Run Johnboy Run: The Glasgow Chronicles 2 (68 page)
“Whit’s the situation at the hoose?”
“Forensics obviously don’t realise whose hoose it is, so they’re fannying aboot, taking their time getting up there. Ah put in Paddy McPhee tae check it oot wance the fire boys hid finished though.”
“Paddy McPhee? Is he the wan they call The Stalker?”
“Aye, he’s wan ae the best.”
“Aye, Ah know Paddy. He’s a good man. Did he come up wae anything?”
“Ah’m no sure. He’s nipped up tae The Royal tae see if Fin O’Callaghan, the other sergeant, managed tae hiv a word wae Mad Mick, although it sounds unlikely. Ah’m expecting word fae them anytime noo,” Colin hid said.
“Okay, Colin. Ah’ll come in first thing in the morning. Kin ye dae a wee summary fur me wae aw the relevant details…if ye know whit Ah mean?” he’d said, hinging up the phone.
He opened the folder and slipped oot the two sheets and started reading. It only took him ten seconds tae confirm his worse fears. Pat Molloy hid possession ae the blue folder. While the report didnae come oot and say that in black and white, it did say that a substantial number ae Chevalier Casino chips wur observed lying scattered across the flair in the burnt-oot hoose. The chips, highlighting various denominations oan wan side, hid Reo Stakis stamped oan the other. He lay doon the folder. He felt the sweat break oot oan his brow.
“Ah’m fucked…we aw ur,” he growled tae himsel.
He slowly went across and locked his door fae the inside before returning tae his comfy leather chair that he’d won at the card table fae Sir Hugh Fraser. He fumbled aboot in his jaicket pocket until his fingers found whit he wis efter. He withdrew the key and unlocked the drawer oan the left haun side ae his desk. When he opened it, he took a sharp intake ae breath. He reached in and lifted oot the Webley MK IV service revolver. He put the barrel intae his mooth and pulled the trigger.
The crunching ae the car wheels oan the gravel gaun up the driveway woke Johnboy up. He wis still in agony. He’d noticed that he’d been pishing oot blood when they’d slung his arse in the cells doon at Central. He couldnae eat anything when they’d gied him a piece wae cheese and a mug ae tea at seven o’clock that morning. He’d tried taking a sip ae the tea, bit it wis like drinking a mug ae battery acid. They’d never said a word tae him when they came tae take him back. He’d been bodily slung intae the back ae the car, his hauns still hauncuffed behind his back. Beck, the deputy heidmaster, hid sat in the front passenger seat while that orange basturt, Campbell, drove.
“Oot!” Beck snarled, wrenching open the door, efter they pulled up ootside the front door ae the reception.
Johnboy tried no tae wince as he managed tae wriggle his sore guts oot ae the car and staun up oan his ain two feet jist before he wis roughly dragged through the door by two other big basturts who’d come oot ae the reception tae meet them. They followed Beck and Campbell alang the corridor until they stoapped ootside the secure cell.
“In!” Campbell snarled, swinging open the door, staunin aside tae let Johnboy limp past.
The first punch, delivered by Rolled Back Neck, caught Johnboy oan the side ae his napper as he entered the cell. He wisnae too sure how many ae them wur lying in wait, bit he managed tae clock that Beanpole Wilson and Sandy Button, the joinery teacher, who they’d helped build the stage at the Christmas concert. Johnboy hit the deck and curled up intae a ball as best as he could, trying tae protect himsel, seeing as his hauns wur still cuffed behind his back. At wan point, he wis aware that they wur pushing each other oot ae the way tae get a kick in, while screaming the odds at him. He wis a bit confused aboot whose screams wur the loudest…theirs or his. Efter whit seemed like ages, he lay in the corner, whimpering in pain, as they stood o’er him, panting like a pack ae slobbering hyenas.
“Right, Taylor, ye’re in here fur the duration ae yer stay wae us, ya wee basturt, ye. Ye’ll be getting shipped up tae Oakbank in Aberdeen within the next few weeks. Let’s see how far ye get, running away fae there,” Beck The Basturt snarled, slamming the door behind them, leaving Johnboy lying there wae the cuffs still digging intae his wrists.
Johnboy didnae know how long he’d lain there. He thought he must’ve blacked oot because he remembered that it hid been daylight when he’d arrived and light hid been coming in through the frosted wired glass windae up oan the wall above him. There wisnae any light coming intae the cell noo, apart fae the bare electric light bulb, encased behind the glass oan the wall above the cell door. He also noticed there wis a plastic plate wae nae cutlery and an untouched meal sitting beside a mug ae something that hid a deid bluebottle floating in it oan the flair across at the door. He managed, wae a lot ae pain thrown in, tae sit himsel up wae his back against the wall. He noticed that he’d pished himsel. At least it wis only a pish, he telt himsel. He hoped Skull hidnae noticed as he wis sitting straight across fae Johnboy.
“Aberdeen? Ach, ye’ll manage tae get doon the road fae there, nae bother, Johnboy,” Skull assured him.
“And where the fuck hiv you been hiding?”
“Me? Ah’ve been waiting fur you, ya diddy ye. Where hiv you been, ye mean?”
“Ach, it’s a long story and Ah’m too sore tae explain jist noo,” Johnboy groaned, trying tae get comfortable.
“Hiv ye noticed anything different then?” Skull asked, staunin up, his hauns stretched up above his heid like a highland dancer, while he did a wee twirl oan wan leg.
Johnboy looked at him through his wan good eye. Skull wis still wearing the same fitba boots wae the white moulded soles wae the studs worn doon through wearing them aw the time. His troosers wur still trailing doon aboot his arse, despite being held up by a snake belt. His da’s auld faded Partick Thistle jersey wis still needing a good wash and he still looked only ten years auld. Johnboy wis jist aboot tae say ‘Ah gie in,’ when he clocked it. Skull saw that he’d spotted it and his face lit up wae a big cheesy grin.
“Ye goat yer Celtic tammy back,” Johnboy winced, surprised and pleased tae see it back oan that wee baldy Mr Magoo napper ae his.
“Er, look, Johnboy…Ah…Ah need tae tell ye…Ah, er, cannae hing aboot…Ah’m late as it is,” Skull said hesitantly, quickly glancing behind him.
“Why? Ye’ve only jist goat here,” Johnboy said through his split lip, spitting oot a bloody dollop oan tae the concrete flair.
“Bit, that’s whit Ah’ve been trying tae tell ye, ya eejit, ye. Johnboy…Ah’m gaun hame…the door’s been left open fur me…Ah’m getting in the night,” Skull panted wae excitement, a happy smile and a look ae relief splashed across that manky face ae his.
Run Johnboy Run is the second book in The Glasgow Chronicles series.
Parly Road is the first book in The Glasgow Chronicles series by Ian Todd and is also available on Amazon Kindle:
It is the summer of 1965 and things are looking up for ten-year-old Johnboy Taylor in the Townhead district of Glasgow. Not only has he made two new pals, who have recently come to his school after being expelled from one of the local Catholic schools, but their dream of owning their own pigeon loft or ‘dookit’ and competing with the city’s grown-up ‘doo-men’ in the sport they love, could soon become a reality. The only problem is that The Mankys don’t have the dosh to pay for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Lady Luck begins to shine down on them when Pat Molloy, aka The Big Man, one of Glasgow’s top heavies asks them to do him a wee favour. The Mankys are soon embroiled in an adult world of gangsters, police corruption, violence and crime.
Set against the backdrop of a condemned tenement slum area, the fate of which has already been decided upon as it stands in the way of the city’s new Inner Ring Road motorway development, the boys soon realise that to survive on the streets, they have to stay one step ahead of those in authority. The only problem for The Mankys is working out who’s really in charge.
Parly Road is full of the shadiest characters that 1960s Glasgow has to offer and takes the reader on a rollercoaster journey that has been described as irreverently hilarious, bad-assed, poignantly sad and difficult to put down.
The Lost Boy And The Gardener’s Daughter is the third book in The Glasgow Chronicles series and will be available on Amazon Kindle from 1
st
November 2014:
It is 1969 and 14-year-old Paul McBride is discharged from Lennox Castle Psychiatric Hospital after suffering a nervous breakdown whilst serving a 3-year sentence in St Ninian’s Approved School in Stirling. St Ninians has refused to take Paul back because of his disruptive behaviour. As a last resort, the authorities agree for Paul to recuperate in the foster care of an elderly couple, Innes and Whitey McKay, on a remote croft in the Kyle of Sutherland in the Scottish Highlands. They have also decided that if Paul can stay out of trouble for a few months, until his fifteenth birthday, he will be released from his sentence and can return home to Glasgow.
Unbeknown to the authorities, Innes McKay is one of the most notorious poachers in the Kyle, where his family has, for generations, been in conflict with Lord John MacDonald, the Duke of the Kyle of Sutherland, who resides in nearby Culrain Castle.
Innes is soon teaching his young charge the age-old skills of the Highland poacher. Inevitably, this leads to conflict between the street-wise youth from the tenements in Glasgow and the Duke’s estate keepers, George and Cameron Sellar, who are direct descendants of Patrick Sellar, reviled for his role in The Highland Clearances.
Meanwhile, in New York city, the Duke’s estranged wife orders their 14-year-old wild-child daughter, Lady Saba, back to spend the summer with her father, who Saba hasn’t had contact with since the age of ten. Saba arrives back at Culrain Castle under escort from the American Pinkerton Agency and soon starts plotting her escape, with the help of her old primary school chum and castle maid, Morven Gabriel. Saba plans to run off to her grandmother’s estate in Staffordshire to persuade her Dowager grandmother to help her return to America. After a few failed attempts, Lady Saba finally manages to disappear from the Kyle in the middle of the night and the local police report her disappearance as a routine teenage runaway case.
Meanwhile in Glasgow’s Townhead, Police intelligence reveals that members of a notorious local street gang, The Mankys, have suddenly disappeared off the radar. It also comes to the police’s attention that, Johnboy Taylor, a well-known member of The Mankys, has escaped from Oakbank Approved School in Aberdeen.
Back in Strath Oykel, the local bobby, Hamish McWhirter, discovers that Paul McBride has disappeared from the Kyle at the same time as Lady Saba.
When new intelligence surfaces in Glasgow that Pat Molloy, The Big Man, one of Glasgow’s top crimelords, has put the word out on the streets that he is offering £500 to whoever can lead him to the missing girl, the race is on and a nationwide manhunt is launched across Scotland’s police forces to catch Paul McBride before The Big Man’s henchmen do.
The Lost Boy and The Gardener’s Daughter is the third book in The Glasgow Chronicles series. True to form, the story introduces readers to some of the most outrageous and dodgy characters that 1960s Glasgow and the Highlands can come up with, as it follows in the footsteps of the most unlikely pair of road–trippers that the reader will ever come across. Fast-paced and with more twists and turns than a Highland poacher’s bootlace, The Lost Boy and The Gardener’s Daughter will have the readers laughing and crying from start to finish.
Further books in the series will be available on Amazon Kindle soon and include
:
The Mattress
The Wummin
Dumfries
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