The Mattress: The Glasgow Chronicles 4 (14 page)

Chapter Eighteen

  The Stalker yawned and opened his windae tae let oot the smoke.  Bumper sat oan the passenger seat beside him, eating a packet ae crisps wae a bottle ae Irn Bru clamped between his thighs.  A lit fag wis sticking oot between the fingers ae the haun that wis haudin the crisp packet.  They wur sitting in a Black Maria van, across the road fae Gucci’s hidey-hole in Petershill Road, no saying a word tae each other.  The only sound tae be heard, apart fae the noises coming fae the cars and bus engines heiding alang Petershill Road, wis the chomping sound ae Bumper’s teeth, demolishing his crisps.  The Stalker wis still well pissed aff wae Bobby Mack, fur evicting him oot ae the interview wae Gucci oan Saturday.  The fact that Chic Thompson, his ain inspector, hid gone alang wae Bobby, hid made it worse.

  “So, why ur we playing alang wae aw this shite, Chic?  That thug through there is jist bloody-well laughing at us, so he is,” he’d howled at The Inspector.

  “Because Bobby is right and Ah agree wae him, Paddy.  You sitting there, slinging Gucci daggers wae they eyes ae yours, will only inflame the situation further.  He’s awready put in three complaints against ye and two against Fin fur yer heavy haundedness when ye’ve been accosting him in the street, gaun aboot his business.”

  “Illegal business!”

  “Lawful business.  Ah never saw any evidence ae wrangdoing efter Fin pulled ye aff him in October.”

  “Staunin there, telling me Ah’m a pathetic wanker, well-known fur peeping through wee lassies’ bedroom windaes when they’re getting undressed, is malicious rumour-mongering against a public official and constitutes a breach ae the peace in ma books,” he’d snarled back.

  “Naw, being baited by a wide boy in front ae his mates, who, as witnesses, ootnumbered yersel and Fin, three tae two, is a breach ae common sense, so it is.  Christ almighty, you and Fin ur supposed tae be auld hauns, demonstrating leadership tae some ae the younger wans coming intae the service.  Squaring up tae Gucci and that manky mob, in the middle ae the street, like an auld stag, isnae leadership.”

  “The fucker punched me.  Whit wis Ah supposed tae dae?  Pull doon ma troosers and let the him kick me oan ma bare arse?”

  “Paddy, ye’re nae gonnae be part ae Bobby’s interview, so gie it a rest.  Ye’re no helping ma aching piles either, so ye’re no,” The Inspector hid growled, gieing Bobby the nod tae take Happy Harry, the desk sergeant, in wae him as back up.

   The Stalker turned and looked at Bumper in disgust.  As well as the sound ae chomping, the front ae Bumper’s shirt, tie and jaicket wur covered in crisp crumbs.

  ”Whit?” Bumper asked.

   The Stalker ignored the question and went back intae contemplation mode ae looking across at Gucci’s closemooth.  Gucci hidnae changed wan iota since he wis a wee whipper-snapper.  Back then, aw the wummin in the Toonheid used tae grab him by the lugs and press his heid between their paps.  It wis probably tae dae wae his Atalian background.  Even noo, he still hid that dark sophisticated suntanned look aboot him that aw the wummin seemed tae go fur.  He wis always immaculately dressed and that Colgate toothpaste smile ae his melted aw the local young lassies like an ice cream pokey-hat left oot in the efternoon sun.  He couldnae believe that wee Chinky thing he wis hinging oot ae couldnae see the vicious, psycho killer behind that holiday poster smile ae his.  There wis nae justice in the world.  Why wur wummin so fascinated by these basturts, he wondered?  Gucci hid the Tally blue-black hair and stood aboot five feet ten in his socks.  His build wis deceptive though.  Behind the flashy clothes that he wore, wis a trunk and erms that wur made ae hard steel.  When he threw a punch, it wis meant tae deck whoever wis oan the receiving end.  The Stalker should know as he’d been oan the receiving end ae it mair than a few times o’er the years.  Baith The Stalker and Bumper hid made up their minds a few years back, that they'd aim their fists at they pearly white teeth ae his, whenever they goat in a tussle wae him.

  “Aye, let’s knock that smarmy, smile aff that greasy face ae his,” Bumper hid beamed, when The Stalker hid first brought it up.

  Despite hivving made every effort tae succeed, they hidnae accomplished their mission as yet, although it wisnae fur the want ae trying.  No that he’d admit it tae anywan, bit getting intae a fight wae Gucci and scoring a direct hit wisnae as easy as it might sound.  He should know.  He’d actually ended up hivving a square-go, toe tae toe, wae the greasy basturt and hid come oot second best.  Tae start wae, Gucci wis fast as fuck oan they feet ae his.  That, coupled wae a flurry ae knock-oot punches coming yer way constantly, meant that staunin still in front ae him jist wisnae tae be recommended.  Another thing that hid caught The Stalker oot wis that the basturt wis ambidextrous.  Ducking fae a right or left hook didnae necessarily get ye oot ae trouble either, he remembered, as he suddenly felt a twinge in the side ae his face, bringing back the memory ae when his jaws hid hid tae be wired up, efter him and Gucci hid fought it oot in wan ae the big lifts across in the Cowlairs Works.

  “That wis an interesting wee story oan the front page ae The Echo this morning, eh?” The Stalker said tae his partner, turning tae pleasanter thoughts before he upset himsel any mair than whit he wis awready daeing.

  “Whit wis?”

  “The ring that goat blagged oot ae wan ae they big fancy hooses across in the West End that wis worth five thousand squidly-didlies.”

  “Ye mean the big sapphire wae the twelve diamonds surrounding it, that’s been broken up and scattered tae the four winds?  The wan that’s noo become untraceable...that wan?”

  “Fuck, imagine being able tae afford tae spend five grand oan a ring, eh?  It’s aw right fur some, so it is,” The Stalker sighed, shaking his heid.  “It said in the paper that it wis fit fur a princess, so it wis.”

  “So, whereaboots wis the hoose then?”

  “It didnae say.  The article said that it’s keeping the location and the owner a secret.  They must be pretty important.”

  “Aye, some basturt’s gonnae hiv a nice wee Christmas this year.”

  “If they kin shift it, that is.  That ring will be hotter than yer arsehole efter scoffing doon wan ae Pardeep Sing’s vindaloo specials at The Fire Ae India oan a Saturday night, doon in Gibson Street, so it will.”

  “Why wid they no say how much the reward money wis?”

  “It said that the reward will be substantial.  Ah think they’ve goat it aboot right.  If ye say the exact amount, then it might be attractive tae some grasses, while tae others, it could come across as being buttons and no worth the hassle ae getting involved,” The Stalker replied, shifting his arse tae get mair comfortable.

  “So, how long ur ye prepared tae keep me away fae ma paperwork then?” Bumper asked him sarcastically, changing the subject, efter slinging his crisp packet oot ae the windae, oan his side ae the van.

  “Listen, don’t involve me in yer problems.  Ye should know by noo no tae use the van as a tool tae disrupt a gang fight,” The Stalker scowled.

  The previous night, The Stalker and Biscuit hid goat caught up in a gang fight between The Springburn Peg and The Milton Tongs, even though things hid been pretty quiet recently between the dafties who seemed tae enjoy stabbing and clubbing fuck oot ae each other o’er territory.  Bumper and him hid informed The Inspector that they still wurnae too sure who’d caused the ruckus, as none ae the bampots who’d goat lifted hid owned up tae anything.  They’d jist blamed each other.  The fight hid started jist ootside The Boundary Bar oan the corner ae Springburn Road and Hawthorn Street.  The Stalker and Biscuit hid jist wandered doon fae the Balgrayhill flats when they’d come across the melee.  The baith ae them hid started wading in, wae aw batons blazing.  Biscuit hid radioed fur assistance and Bumper hid arrived oan the scene behind the wheel ae a Black Maria, hitting three ae the dafties, before grinding tae a halt.

  “Ah skidded oan the icy road when Ah applied the brakes,” he’d telt Chic, The Inspector, as they waited fur an ambulance tae take two ae the street fighters up tae Stobhill.

  “Well, Ah want that paper work done by the morra morning then.”

  “Whit paperwork?”

  “The paperwork fur the damage ye’ve done tae the front ae the van,” hid been the reply.

  “Ah should’ve took the forms wae me.  If Ah’d known we wur gonnae be sitting oan oor arses, across here in Petershill Road, daeing sweet fuck-aw bit looking at nothing aw day, Ah wid’ve brought them wae me,” Bumper girned.

  “Jist tell Chic we wur oot chasing up a lead oan that Henderson’s milkman that wis stabbed recently.  That’ll keep him aff yer back fur at least five minutes, so it will.”

  “And that’s another thing.  Who the fuck wid want tae stab a poor milkman, oot delivering milk, eh?  Kin ye imagine if aw they guys went oan strike and we ended up withoot any milk?  There wid be rioting in the streets, so there wid.  This bloody dump ae a place is rotten tae the core, so it is.”  Bumper moaned, clearly working himsel up intae a right auld tizzy.

  “Ye need tae look oan the bright side, Fin.  If we wurnae sitting anchored here, we widnae hiv noticed that fat basturt, Baby Huey O’Hara, slinking intae Gucci’s closemooth, noo wid we?”

  “Oh, well, that’s awright then, so it is,” Bumper retorted sarcastically, winding doon his windae before clearing his nose doon the back ae his throat and letting fly, scoring a bulls-eye oan the napper ae a wee mongrel dug that hid been dawdling alang the street oan the scrounge.

  “Naw, c’mone noo, be honest, ya big prick, ye.  Who wid’ve thought we wid’ve clocked that lump ae lard, Baby Huey, up here in Springburn, eh?”

  “Well, blow me doon wae a feather.  This his definitely been worth it, sitting here, twiddling ma thumbs, so it his.”

  “Ye obviously don’t see the connection, dae ye?”

  “Okay, Ah gie in, put me oot ae ma misery,” Bumper asked, looking at him.  “Ye’re gonnae tell me whether Ah want tae hear it or no, so fire away.”

  “The connection is The Big Man,” The Stalker replied, wae a knowing look oan his kisser.

  “Pat Molloy?”

  “Aye, Pat Molloy.  Who dis Baby Huey work fur?”

  “Wan-bob Broon, who’s supposedly across in Spain.”

  “And who dis Wan-bob Broon work fur?”

  “The Big Man…also reported tae be across in Spain”

  “So, we hiv wan ae Tony Gucci’s best pals getting stabbed tae death, wan ae The Simpson’s gorillas, Frisky Frank, mentioning Gucci’s name while being carted aff in an ambulance, Toby Simpson and Jo Jo Robson ur clocked coming oot ae Burns’s the same night as Frisky goat huckled by us, and noo we hiv wan ae Pat Molloy’s apprentice strong-erm thugs up visiting The Atalian Stallion.”

  “Fuck’s sake, Paddy, ye’re guaranteed a conviction oan that evidence, so ye ur.  Ah cannae wait fur the court appearance...whit did ye say the charge wis again?” Bumper scoffed, reaching fur his lighter and packet ae fags oan the dashboard.

  “It might sound flimsy as evidence, and it is, bit we’ve noo goat a direct connection.”

  “Wae whit…tae whit?”

  “When wis the last time ye clapped eyes oan that big fat ton ae lard, Baby Huey, venturing up here intae Springburn, eh?  He usually hings aboot up in Roystonhill, when he’s no working oot ae the toon centre.  Put that alangside Toby Simpson popping up in Springburn and ye hiv two ends ae the same string joining up.”

  “Coincidence?”

  “There’s nothing co-incidental when it comes tae Tony Gucci, Fin.  Believe you me, there’s a whole pile ae shite aboot tae come raining doon and we’re gonnae be in the middle ae it when it dis.  Him and The Simpsons hiv been taking pot-shots at each other aw year, so they hiv.”

  “Like whit?”

  “Don’t you start.  Ah get enough ae that fae Chic back in the station.”

  “Ye need tae stoap taking things so personally, Paddy.  Even though it wis totally bang oot ae order, it wis jist you and him in that lift at the end ae the day.  Ye said it yersel.  He could’ve let the rest ae them wade in, bit he didnae.  Wid we hiv been as generous if the boot hid been oan the other fit?”

  “Fin, don’t ever compare us wae they manky toe-rag basturts, especially if ye’re suggesting that we widnae be as up front as them,” The Stalker growled, looking across at the tenement closemooth, as Bumper lit up his fag and took a schoosh fae his bottle ae Irn Bru.

Chapter Nineteen

  Tony lay back and stretched oot oan the couch.  He’d jist goat himsel a wee cup ae tea which wis noo sitting cooling doon oan the coffee table, within reaching distance, beside his Glesga Echo.  The Stalker and that Bumper wan wur still sitting in their Black Maria across in Bedlay Street, being paid fur daeing fuck-aw.  The radio wis oan doon low and The Who wur belting oot ‘Won’t get Fooled Again.’  He could feel the excitement in his stomach.  It looked as if things wur noo starting tae move and there might jist be a Santa Claus efter aw.  He’d been surprised tae see Baby Huey.  Tony hid been lying in his kip, no long efter Kim Sui hid heided aff tae college, when he’d heard the stomping ae the feet coming up the stairs.  Before the feet hid reached his landing, he’d nipped oot ae bed and slung a pair ae troosers and a jumper oan.  He’d also lifted up the baseball bat fae under his bed, as a wee precaution, as he fumbled fur his shoes.  By the time the feet hid stoapped ootside his door, the baseball bat wis leaning oan the hinged side ae the door as he peered through the wee spy hole.  A big roond baw-heid, wae unblinking piggy eyes, hid stared back at him.

  “So, how did ye know where tae find me, Baby?” he’d asked, as three hunner pounds ae mean man-flesh filled his living room.

  “Ach, ye know whit like?”

  “Fuck, is nothing sacred in this place any mair?  Ye probably know whit colour ae Y-fronts Ah’ve goat oan.”

  “Aye, well, it’s no only me.  Ah’ve jist clocked a couple ae yer pals sitting in a Black Maria across the road.”

  “Who?”

  “The Stalker and that Bumper prick.”

  “So it is them?  Ah’ve been keeping ma eyes oan the van aw morning, so Ah hiv.  Did they see ye?”

  “Well, they wurnae blind the last time they tried tae lift me.  Ah wis awready turning up the close when Ah clocked the basturts.  Ah didnae see any point in turning back and heiding alang the road.  They widnae be sitting there if they didnae know ye wurnae up here awready,” Baby hid said, looking aboot the living room.

  “So, whit ur ye up tae then?” Tony hid asked him.

  “Me?  Ach, this and that, and then some mair, if ye know whit Ah mean.  

  “Aye?” Tony hid replied, wondering whit the fuck Baby wis up tae.

  “Did ye hear aboot Freckles?”

  “Aye, Ah couldnae believe it…none ae us could.”

  “And wae Joe as well.  It jist goes tae shows ye,” Baby sniffed.  “Ah met an auld pal ae yours recently,” Baby said, changing the subject.

  “Did ye?” Tony hid replied, feeling himsel getting annoyed at aw this farting aboot.

  “Aye, kin ye remember that wee fat grassing basturt who used tae hing aboot the Stanhope Street stables when we wur aw weans?”

  “No that Alex Milne, the fat basturt who, alang wae his mates, knocked fuck oot ae Silent when he first started tae run aboot wae us back in the Toonheid, efter him and Paul fucked aff fae The Grove?”

  “That’s yer man.  He’s lost a good bit ae weight since then.  Ah widnae hiv recognised him masel, except that he complained tae Shaun Murphy aboot me, the prick.”

  “Really?  So, whit’s the score there then?  How wid a fat squealing basturt like that know how tae get access tae somewan like Shaun Murphy then?”

  “He’s still oan the fringes, so he is.  Wan night, him and a couple ae his pals came intae The Oak oan Duke Street, aw hauf-cut and making an arse ae themsels.  Tip McKay, behind the bar, widnae serve them and yer pal started tae gie him a moothful.  Ah wisnae aboot because Ah wis in the lavvy, daeing a pish, or Ah widnae hiv let them in, in the first place.  Anyway, Ah walked up towards the commotion.  They wur aw staunin wae their backs tae me and yer fat pal wis moothing aff tae Tip, who could see me heiding in his direction.  It wisnae that big a deal or anything as Ah hiv tae haundle they kind ae situations aw the time, so Ah dae.  Ah managed tae get a grip ae a thick clump ae Fat Boy’s hair oan the back ae that napper ae his as Ah bounced that face ae his aff the edge ae the bar.  It must’ve been a sore wan because Ah clocked aw the faces ae the barflies wincing, as his heid ricocheted up aff ae it.  It’s jist as well that coonter is solid mahogany, so it is.  That nose ae his splattered like a tomato hitting a brick wall jist before he went flying through the double doors oan tae the pavement ootside.”

  “So, how did ye recognise him then?”

  “Ah telt ye, the prick went tae Shaun and put in a complaint.  Charlie Hastie pulled me in and telt me that he’d stood watching some young plasterer guy called Alex Milne whine like a stuck pig.  ‘Don’t worry, Ah’ll hiv Charlie Hastie deal wae him, Alex,’ that scar-faced tadger telt him.”

  “So, whit did Charlie say then?”

  “Charlie?  Fuck-aw.  He telt me that whenever Ah see that squealing fat basturt in any ae the pubs and clubs, he’s tae get banned fur life.  Charlie said that he’s been passing gossip tae Shaun fur years.  Charlie also said that he wis always telling Tiny and that Horsey John wan everything that you and aw yer manky Toonheid pals wur up tae when youse wur snappers.”

  “Wis he noo?” Tony hid said, eyes narrowing.

  “So, whit shite ur ye reading noo?” Baby hid asked, still no getting tae the point, as he picked up a well-thumbed book that wis lying open, face doon, oan the lamp table o’er beside the fireplace.

  “It’s aboot a guy called Sun Tzu who wis good at ootwitting his enemies by using his loaf.”

  “Is it any good?  No that Ah’m intae reading masel,” Baby hid asked, looking fae the cover tae the page that wis open and then back tae the photo oan the cover.

   “Hiv ye ever heard the saying, ‘Keep yer friends close, and yer enemies closer’ or ‘If ye’re strong, appear weak, bit if ye’re weak, appear strong?’”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, if ye hid, ye’d know that it wis him that made up they wee sayings, so it wis.”

  “Anyway, ya Atalian greaser, ye.  Ah’ve goat a wee message fur ye,” Baby hid said, at last, swiftly changing the subject, piggy eyes shining wae excitement and anticipation.

  “And?”

  “Aye, it’s fae Wan-bob, straight fae the tap, so it is.”

  “Wan-bob?  He’s back?” Tony hid demanded, trying no tae show his excitement.

  “Why ur ye wanting tae meet The Big Man?”

  “Whit’s that supposed tae mean?”

  “It’s whit Ah’ve jist said, whit’s the meeting aboot?”

  “Baby, Ah’ve been trying tae meet Wan-bob or The Big Man fur nearly a year noo.  Whit’s aw this shite aboot why Ah want tae meet him?”

  “Tony, Ah’m jist the message boy here.  If ye’re no happy, take it up wae Wan-bob.  Fuck, Ah thought ye’d be happy efter aw this time.”

  “Listen, Baby, tell Wan-bob that if Ah wisnae gonnae tell that Shaun Murphy prick whit Ah wis efter, then Ah’m certainly no gonnae tell him, noo, am Ah?” Tony hid retorted angrily.

  “Wan-bob’s different, Tony.  He’s always been a good supporter ae yersel, Johnboy and Silent, as well as Joe and Paul, before they baith disappeared aff the scene.”

  “Ah don’t want any support, Baby.  Aw Ah want is five fucking minutes wae The Big Man oan ma ain.  Is that too much tae ask?  Efter everything we’ve done fur that basturt o’er the years?  The bloody ceiling is falling doon aw aboot oor ears up here, fur Christ’s sake!”

  “Look, Ah shouldnae be saying this, bit, er, ach, never mind, it’s nothing, furget whit Ah’ve jist said,” Baby hid spluttered, avoiding Tony’s angry eyes which wur drilling intae his.

  “Whit?”

  “Naw, it’s nothing, so it’s no.”

  “Fur Christ’s sakes, Baby, don’t you start.  How long hiv we known each other, eh?  Ye know Ah’m in Shite Street up here in Springburn, wae they Simpsons oan ma back.  Look whit they done tae poor Joe and him awready a cabbage as well.  Whit dae ye think they’re gonnae dae tae me when they catch up wae me, eh?”

  Silence.

  Tony looked across at Baby and felt bad.  Baby wis wan ae the maist loyal guys anywan could ever meet.  He’d break yer neck as soon as look at ye, bit if ye wur part ae his circle, ye’d never be betrayed by him.  A few years back, he’d been gonnae see if Baby wanted tae run aboot wae The Mankys bit Joe McManus hid blocked that move.  Joe and Baby’d hid a massive row a couple ae years previously.  It hid been jist efter Baby’d started working oan the doors and hid started tae get regular wages fae The Big Man.

  “Ye’ll change and become a right prick, like the rest ae that crowd, Baby.  And don’t staun there and tell us any different or Ah’ll get really annoyed, so Ah will,” Joe hid shouted at him.

  It hidnae mattered whit Baby hid come back wae tae try and dampen doon Joe’s rage.  Joe hid jist blasted Baby’s protestations oot ae the water.  Tony hid been forced tae intervene at wan point because he’d thought that Joe wis gonnae attack Baby.  Things hidnae goat much better when Paul hid started in oan Baby wance Joe’d seemed tae cool doon a bit.  Tony remembered getting a wee bit worried at the time.  There wis nae way he wid’ve been able tae pull Paul and Joe aff ae Baby if they’d gone fur him.  He remembered that Baby hid turned as white as a sheet and hid looked across at Tony and Johnboy fur help.  He didnae know where the hell Johnboy’s heid hid been at the time, bit it hidnae been in that room that night.  Johnboy wis well-known fur intervening oan behauf ae people, some ae them fully fledged wankers, who widnae hiv done the same fur him, bit that night, he’d jist stood leaning against a wall, taking it aw in, bit no saying a word.  Tony remembered the relief he’d felt when Baby hid disappeared.  Baith Paul and Joe absolutely hated aw The Big Man’s crowd…the only exception being Wan-bob Broon and Charlie Hastie.

  “Look, whit Ah’m aboot tae tell ye his tae stay within this room.  Noo, ye cannae tell a soul, that means nowan or Ah’m deid meat, so Ah am,” Baby hid finally spluttered.

   “Whit?”

  “The Big Man his been away.”

  “Say that again?”

  “Ye heard me.”

  “Away where, fur Christ’s sake?”

  “Jist away, that’s aw.  Noo, Ah’m no supposed tae know that...nowan is.”

  “So, is that why Ah hivnae been able tae get in touch wae him then?”

  “Aye.”

  “Is he back oan the scene noo?”

  “Ah don’t know...Ah doubt it.  If he wis, there widnae be aw this secrecy, noo wid there?”

  “Baby, whit the fuck dae ye know then?”

  “Look, aw Ah’ve been telt is tae heid up tae this dump and find oot why the fuck ye want tae meet The Big Man?”

  “Baby, it’s me ye’re talking tae.  Is Pat Molloy back oan the scene?”

  “Right, Ah’m seriously gonnae be buried in the boot ae an auld Morris  thousand, doon in Greasy Jake’s, if this goes anywhere, Tony.”

  “Baby, spit it oot, fur fuck’s sake.”

  “Aye, he’s back, bit nowan knows aboot it, including Shaun or any ae the other top brass.”

  “How dae ye know that?”

  “Because Ah jist dae, Tony.  Kin ye no jist take ma word fur it, fur a change, eh?  Ah’m in enough shite telling ye whit Ah’ve jist telt ye.”

  “Baby, Ah need tae know exactly whit ye know.  We’re no playing games here.”

  “Aw Ah know is that Ah overheard Charlie Hastie telling Wan-bob that he’d goat a nice wee farmhoose wae a big garage tae keep the cars oot ae sight and that nowan could approach the place withoot being clocked, well in advance.  Wan-bob whispered that nowan apart fae them and The Goat wis tae know he wis back.”

  “Fuck!”

  “Tony, ma life depends oan Wan-bob and Charlie Hastie no knowing that Ah know whit they know, because if they know that Ah know, then Ah’m deid,” Baby hid rambled.

  “Wheesht, Baby, gie’s a minute.  Ah need tae clear that heid ae mine,” Tony hid scowled, staunin up and pacing the flair, feeling elated fur the first time in God knows how long.

  It wid’ve probably been obvious tae Wan-bob and Baby why he wanted tae talk tae Pat Molloy.  Tony knew they’d assume he wid’ve been wanting tae try and convince The Big Man tae back him up against The Simpsons.  He hid tae come up wae something that wid make The Big Man take the bait.  He knew this wis probably the last chance he’d get before he ended up doon in the morgue beside Joe.  The crucial thing wis tae get a face tae face meeting.  If he’d telt Baby the real reason, Tony wid probably hiv ended up in Greasy Jake’s car crusher alangside Baby.  Bit whit could he use?  He’d looked doon at the coffee table and clocked his answer staring up at him.  He let oot a sigh ae relief.  He wisnae a hunner percent sure if it wid work, bit at that moment in time, there wisnae exactly a lot ae alternatives in the room.

   “Right, Baby. Tell Wan-bob that Ah’ve goat something worth five grand that needs shifted quickly and that Ah’ll only go through The Big Man tae move it oan.”

  “That’s it?  That’s whit aw the panic his been aboot fur aw these months, that ye’ve goat something worth five grand that ye hiv tae get rid ae, and ye’ll only deal wae The Big Man himsel?” Baby hid asked, no believing a word ae it.

  “That’s it,” Tony hid said, turning his back oan Baby, wanting tae avoid his piercing piggy eyes by peering through the net curtains at the bizzy van, doon oan the corner ae Bedlay Street. 

  “Well, ye cannae be in that much ae a hurry if ye’ve still goat whitever it is that’s worth five grand, efter aw this time.”