The Silver Arrow (22 page)

  “
Good evening.  My name is John Turney and these are the news headlines in Scotland tonight.

  A well-known drug dealer was shot dead in Stoneyhurst Street in the city’s Possilpark area of the city last night.  Benjamin Farrell had just entered the closemouth where he lived with his wife and young daughter around about eleven o’clock last night, when residents heard gunshots.  By the time neighbours arrived on the scene, it appears that Mr Farrell was already dead.  Local Police Inspector Duggie Duggan admitted last night that Mr Farrell was a player in Possil’s drug underworld, but denied he was involved in the organised trade across the city, believed to be controlled by two major crime syndicates.  Inspector Bobby Mack, leading the murder investigation, stated that he would be concentrating the enquiry locally….

  Car parks in and about the city centre are continuing to be targeted by thieves and police are warning motorists parking whilst shopping not to leave anything of value in their cars…

  Women’s groups in the city are demanding a meeting with Assistant Chief Constable Jack Tipple, after reports that he attended a police retirement and award ceremony social evening and laughed at jokes told by top comedian, Bernard Manning that were offensive to women.  A spokesman for Mr Tipple claimed that the assistant chief constable had left the venue early after awarding long service medals to officers and before he gave a speech in praise of all those past and present serving officers in one of Britain’s busiest forces.  A spokesman at the Ivy Social Club in Rutherglen confirmed the assistant chief constable had already left before Mr Manning came on stage…”

Chapter Twenty Nine

  Simon hid jist sat and listened tae them.  Peter and Ben hid eventually seemed convinced wae whit he’d come up wae, bit Jake still hidnae been too happy wae his tactics, bit hidnae come up wae an alternative.  Simon hid still been a wee bit shaken at the news fae Baby Huey.  It hid been the first time since Tony hid been put away that Simon hid pulled rank oan them.

  “Look, unless youse kin come up wae something better than the shite Ah’ve heard o’er the past hour, then ma plan is whit we’re daeing,” Simon hid informed them.

  “Ye call that a plan, Simon?  Mair like a death wish tae me.  Whit’s the big hurry fur anyway?  It’ll take Wan-bob a few days, at least, tae track doon who wis working that night,” Peter hid come oot wae, tae nods fae the others.

  “We cannae afford tae gie him that time.  We need tae take the initiative, insteid ae sitting waiting fur him tae choose when he goes fur the lassies.  It’s us that need the time,” he’d argued.

  “Well, jist make sure it’s you that tells Johnboy and don’t leave it tae wan ae us, when she ends up deid meat oan a slab in the mortuary doon in the Saltmarket,” Ben hid grumbled.

  “Aye, well, luring Senga and her pal oot tae some country cottage and then haudin them hostage until Tony gets oot tae sort the situation oot wae Wan-bob didnae get too much votes either, Ben, ya fucking eejit, ye,” he’d retorted tae laughter.

  “Ah still think it’s risky,” Jake hid grumbled.  “It starts the race before we’re ready.  Graham Portoy won’t thank ye fur that.”

  “Fuck Graham Portoy.  He’s getting paid tae take instructions,” Peter hid reminded them.

  “Of course it’s risky, Jake, bit it’ll gie us a bit mair control ae the situation than whit we’ve goat the noo, sitting here waiting fur something tae happen.  Ah’m no convinced Tony wid dae it any other way,” Simon hid informed them, keeping Tony’s name in the frame.

  “Right, gie us an example ae why it’s better fur us tae start the baw rolling jist noo rather than wait fur Tony tae get oot.  Ah mean, we’re only talking aboot a few weeks away,” Ben reminded everywan.

  “Wan-bob knows Senga’s ma.  They go back tae the Toonheid in the forties and fifties…”

  “It still won’t save her if Wan-bob believes that it wis her in that room wae The Stalker that night.  He’s too paranoid tae leave something like that floating aboot, oot ae his control,” Ben hid reminded them, butting in.

  “Ben, let Simon finish, fur fuck’s sake.  Right, carry oan, Simon,” Jake hid said, nodding.

  “Right, where wis Ah before Ah wis rudely interrupted by some objecting prick?  Oh, aye…whit Ah wis saying is…Senga’s flatmate his nae collateral.  If her name comes up, she’s a goner…nae question aboot that,” Simon hid declared, emphasising his conviction by snapping they fingers ae his fur full effect.  “The chances ur that Senga will cop it as well, jist fur sharing a flat wae her.  Wan-bob won’t believe that they don’t tell each other everything, will he?  Senga, oan the other haun, is a different proposition aw thegither.  Wan-bob and Charlie Hastie will be well aware that she’s still seeing Johnboy…”

  “As a jail pen-pal,” Ben hid chipped in, still no being able tae contain himsel.

  “…and that they’re talking aboot getting married, even though he’s still goat a good bit ae time left tae dae.  Ah also think Wan-bob might hesitate and contemplate whether it’s worth the risk ae upsetting us,” Simon hid slung in tae remind them that they could command respect fae some quarters in the toon, as the others burst intae disbelieving laughter.  “Ye might laugh, bit who wis it that wiped oot Tam Simpson and Shaun Murphy?  The other thing is, Ah think Wan-bob wid want tae know exactly how much we dae know and how we’re gonnae use that info.  He’s no daft.  As soon as he finds oot that we’ve known aboot the nurse aw alang, he’s gonnae go ape-shit.  He’ll know fine well that we won’t hiv been sitting oan oor arses waiting fur him tae make the first move.  The main thing is, we’ve goat tae be well-prepared tae respond when he decides tae goes fur the lassies…which we know fine well, he will.  That’s the biggest risk if we get it wrang.  The important thing is that we need tae be able tae get in there and dae the business withoot getting oorsels shot, strangled or crushed in wan ae Greasy Jake’s scrap car machines in the process.”

  “Meaning?” somewan asked.

  “We jist need tae keep oor ears tae the ground and an eye oan that pair ae psychos, Spotty Hector and Chic Shand.  We know they work aw day, doon in Greasy Jake’s car-stripping shoap.  It’s whit they get up tae when they’ve finished working there during the day that we hiv tae worry aboot.  Baby Huey his agreed tae gie us a shout if he picks anything up oan his travels,” Simon telt them, before adding, “Look, Ah’m no happy aboot the situation masel, bit we’ve goat tae dae whit his tae be done.  Ah hate tae admit it, bit we wid’ve been goosed withoot Baby Huey’s info. The key here is fur us tae be in control and wan step aheid ae Wan-bob and Charlie Hastie.”

  “We’re aw gonnae die o’er this, ye know,” Peter hid grumbled.

  “Naw, we’re no, Mr Happy,” Jake hid scoffed.

  “So, whit time ur ye meeting up wae Swansea, Simon?” Ben hid asked, at last changing the subject. 

  “Hauf six, which is exactly twenty five minutes fae noo,” Simon hid reminded them, looking at his watch.

  “Dae ye want me tae come wae ye?” Jake hid volunteered.

  “Naw, Ah’m fine.  Efter Ah see him, Ah’ll nip roond tae Senga’s and see if Ah kin blag a hospital timesheet oot ae her flat.  Ah nipped across and goat the spare keys aff ae Harper.  Senga telt Johnboy that they keep a copy ae their rota sheets up oan a board in the kitchen.  If Ah kin get wan, Ah’ll drap it aff tae ye later oan, Peter.  Ah’ll need a good copy done by twelve o’clock the morra.  Make sure it ties in wae the date in The Stalker’s notebook…the same night he blagged himsel intae Stobhill,” he’d said, staunin up and leaving them tae chew o’er whit hid been decided.

Chapter Thirty

  “Nice place,” Swansea said, looking aboot the lounge.

  “It’s a haven fur guys looking fur guys, bit it’s a good place if ye don’t want prying eyes fae certain quarters,” Simon explained, glad that Swansea hid listened tae him and hidnae turned up wearing his bowler hat.

  “Is it now?” Swansea said, removing the Royal Stewart tartan bunnet he wis wearing before taking a sip ae his Eighty Bob that hid been fetched through fae the bar facing oan tae Buchanan Street.  “So, you said there’s been some important developments?”

  “Aye, Wan-bob Broon knows that the nurse that wis run o’er wisnae the wan that wis oan duty the night Haufwit Murray croaked it up in Stobhill,” he replied.

  Silence.

  “What are the implications?” Swansea finally asked efter a long, thoughtful two minutes, letting the news sink in.

  “The obvious wans ur the lassies.  Whit Ah’ve jist telt ye, Ah only found oot this morning.  Ah’ve hid a word wae the rest ae The Mankys and everywan agrees that it’ll probably only be a matter ae a few days before he comes up wae a name.”

  Silence.

  “Is this when we involve the police?” Swansea asked, efter a further two minutes ae perplexed facial contortions and concentrated thinking.

  “It’s funny ye should ask that, bit that’s exactly ma ain thinking oan the situation.  It’s good tae see two great minds thinking alike, eh?” Simon replied, smiling, finding the suspicion oan Swansea’s face amusing.

  “It makes sense, boyo.  We have a legal and moral obligation to ensure the girls’ safety.  It’s the pragmatic thing to do, although, how they’ll keep them safe is anyone’s guess.”

  “Aye, well, as long as we’re in control ae developments, Swansea, we might jist be able tae avoid that wee predicament.”

  “Meaning?”

  “That form Ah signed recently, the wan authorising me tae be able tae gather up statements fae potential witnesses as a precognition officer?”

  “What about it?”

  “Ah’ll need a stamped and signed copy ae it fae the company.”

  “Why?”

  “We’re gonnae interview a hostile witness the morra.”

  “Who?”

  “The Stalker.”

  “Paddy McPhee!” Swansea spluttered, wiping the frothy heid fae his moustache.  “Christ, boyo, for a moment there, I thought you said The Stalker.”

  “Ye heard right.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m a bit confused. You’ll have to expand on what you’ve just said.”

  “Ah need ye tae arrange a meeting wae him the morra efternoon, bit don’t tell him Ah’ll be present.”

  “But why?  Have you spoken to Graham?”

  “Oh, and that’s another thing.  Ye’ll need tae get Graham tae start Johnboy’s appeal proceedings straight away,” Simon informed him, ignoring the question.

  “Simon, I’m sorry…hold on…please?  You’re moving too quick for my simple Welsh head to follow this conversation.  We’re not ready to move on this.  There’s still more evidence gathering required.  Moving at this stage will blow our cover that we’re contemplating an appeal.  We’re just not ready, boyo,” Swansea pleaded, wiping the sweat fae that brow ae his, clearly looking worried.

  “Based oan Johnboy’s written authorisation, am Ah entitled tae instruct the legal team oan his behauf?”

  “Well, technically, you are, but…”

  “Technically?”

  “You can direct and advise, but Graham doesn’t have to accept the advice.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, he can resign from the case if the demands of the client are unreasonable…not that I would anticipate that, but it’s an option open to him…to all legal briefs,” Swansea replied wae a wave ae his haun.

  “Look, let me put it another way then, so that we’re clear and there’s nae dubiety oan either side.  Ah’m instructing you tae pass oan tae Graham Portoy that Ah want him tae start legal proceedings fur a review ae Johnboy Taylor’s case, that’ll lead tae an appeal and his eventual release.  In the meantime, you and me will jist carry oan gathering statements and evidence tae support that move.  He’ll also need tae take prompt legal action tae stoap The Stalker fae destroying any evidence in his possession that shows he obstructed justice by withholding evidence that proves Johnboy Taylor is innocent ae aw charges.”

  “Simon, please, listen to me.  There are still too many gaps.  We haven’t come up with corroborating evidence that supports Johnboy’s innocence.  The Paisley police inspector’s statement is crucial.  Where was Johnboy on the evening that Shaun Murphy disappeared?  They’ll use that to blacken Johnboy’s character.  The statement from the prisoner down in Dumfries won’t hold up.  All we really have is Lizzie Mathieson’s statement to say what she overheard in that hospital room that night.  Senga Jackson’s statement will be deemed as hearsay from a friend.  Think about it,” he pleaded, gieing Simon the impression that Swansea thought he wis talking tae a bloody idiot.

  “Look, we’ve made up oor mind.  Either Graham starts the baw rolling noo, or we’ll get somewan else who will,” Simon retorted, dismissing the Welshman’s advice.

  “We?”

  “Ye heard me.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Swansea replied, visibly shocked.

  “Well, while Ah’m through in the other bar getting ye another pint, Ah’m sure ye’ll come up wae something,” Simon telt him, staunin up and leaving the Welshman wringing they hauns ae his.

  “Can I ask you a question, Simon?” Swansea asked him, as Simon placed the pint ae Eighty Bob doon in front ae him.

  “Fire away.”

  “I mean…can I be frank?”

  “Swansea, Ah widnae want ye tae be anything else.”

  “What’s this all about?  I mean, really about?  For the life of me, I can’t see the logic.”

  “We need tae protect the lassies…Senga.  Wan-bob knows that the nurse they goat rid ae is no the wan that wis oan duty that night.”

  Silence.

  “But I, er, thought you said the last time we spoke, that, er, important though that is, getting evidence on Johnboy’s innocence takes precedence here?”

  Silence.

  “Swansea, dae ye really want that question answered?” Simon eventually asked.

  “Look, I, we, cannot get involved in anything that is illegal, boyo.”

  “Swansea, dae ye really want tae know whit’s gaun oan?” Simon persisted.

  “Only if it’s off the record and deniable on my part,” the Welshman finally replied, looking aboot the lounge.

  “Don’t worry aboot who’s lurking aboot in here, Swansea.  Jist gie me a straight answer tae a straightforward question.”

  “I think we’re at an impasse here,” Swansea whispered, mair tae himsel than tae Simon, trying tae make sense ae the turn ae events.

  “Well?”

  Silence.

  “Okay, explain,” the Welshman eventually blurted oot, nodding, bit no touching that fresh pint sitting in front ae him.

  “Right, Ah’m no expecting ye tae understaun, bit that’s no ma problem.  And whit Ah’m aboot tae tell ye, stays wae us.  Nowan, and Ah mean nowan, including Graham Portoy, gets tae know this.  Hiv Ah made masel clear?” Simon asked quietly, eyes narrowing, the threat clear in his voice.

  “If you insist, boyo,” the Welshman agreed, shivering, wondering how tae extricate himsel withoot causing offence…or worse.

  “The goalposts hiv changed.  In fact, they’re changing aw o’er the bloody shoap, so they ur.  Wan minute they’re there, and the next, they’ve moved o’er tae there,” Simon said, pointing tae the end ae the table wae his finger and tossing a beer mat tae the other end wae his other haun.

  “But…”

  “Ye’re right, the number wan priority is Johnboy, bit things hiv moved oan a bit and become jist that bit mair complicated,” Simon continued, smiling, seeing the ‘That’s the understatement ae the year’ look oan the face opposite him.  “Ah think Johnboy is moving oan if he wins the appeal.  By that, Ah mean, moving oan fae us…The Mankys.  Ah shared a car wae Senga Jackson aw the way doon tae Dumfries and back recently.  While she didnae come oot and admit anything, it became clear tae me that Johnboy wis operating ootwith the original agreed script between him and the other boys doon in Dumfries.  That changes how we deal wae anticipated developments oot here in Civvy Street, so it dis.”

  “Script?”

  “Let’s no go there…it’ll take too long tae explain.  And anyway, if Ah’m right, Johnboy won’t gie a shit aboot winning an appeal if it means Senga Jackson coming intae herms way.  So, the priority fur the next wee while, his tae shift back tae Senga and her flatmate.  Ur ye wae me, so far?”

  “No.”

“Ye ur…its jist that ye’ve still tae catch up, which ye will,” Simon assured him. “Right, here’s where it starts tae get murky.  We’ve found oot how Wan-bob goat tae know aboot The Stalker’s midnight visit up tae Stobhill the night that Haufwit Murray spilled the beans.  The info is getting passed oan tae Wan-bob by a bent bizzy, stationed across in Possil.  We’re no sure how he knew, other than he’s either a pal ae The Stalker himsel or that sidekick sergeant ae his, Bumper.  Anyway, that’s no the point…”

  “Christ, do you know what that means, Simon?”

  “Well, at a guess, Ah’d imagine that the bent Possil bizzy, is partly responsible fur three innocent people getting wiped oot…or at least, he’s implicated.”

  “Good God!” Swansea exclaimed, falling back in his seat in shock, shaking that heid ae his.

  “Wan-bob awready knows that the nurse he goat bumped, is no the nurse that wis oan duty that night up in Stobhill,” Simon explained, swiftly haudin up the palm ae his haun tae stoap The Thompson Twin fae butting in wae questions.  “As Ah’ve awready said, we believe it’ll only take Wan-bob a couple ae days, at the maist, tae find oot the nurse’s name who wis oan duty that night…the nurse being Senga’s best pal and flatmate, Lizzie Mathieson.  We cannae let that happen.  That’s why Ah need tae get intae a room wae The Stalker oan official business.  Ah need tae let him believe that it wis Senga Jackson who wis oan duty that night.”

  “But…but, that means there will be a fair chance that Senga Jackson’s name will get passed to One-bob Brown by the source in Possil!” Swansea exclaimed, alarmed.

  “Exactly.  It’s really, really important that Wan-bob believes that it wis Senga Jackson oan duty that night.”

  “But why?  I don’t understand.”

  “Look, there’s less chance ae something happening tae the pair ae them if Wan-bob thinks it’s Senga.  We need tae think long-term here.  Lizzie Mathieson has far less collateral gaun fur her.  As far as Wan-bob’s concerned, that’s jist a wee added bonus.  It makes the decision tae waste her a lot mair easier.  Senga, oan the other haun, is different.  We need tae shift the focus away fae Lizzie Mathieson and oan tae Senga Jackson.  Senga’s ma wis part ae his social scene back in the forties and fifties.  He’s also aware that Johnboy and Senga ur an item…if ye kin call a jail romance an item, that is.”

  “I’m not too sure I fully understand your logic,” Swansea muttered, still trying tae get his heid roond whit he wis hearing.

  “Wan-bob will shit a brick when he finds oot…which he will…that we wur in there, trying tae get a statement fae The Stalker oan whit wis said up in Stobhill that night.  He’ll come tae the conclusion that we’re working behind the scenes tae save Senga’s arse.  The focus will hopefully shift away fae Lizzie Mathieson.  It won’t take him long tae suss oot that the information contained in The Stalker’s notebook his been compromised…by us.  He’ll be fucking raging, bit hopefully, that’ll throw him aff kilter fur a wee while.  It’s crucial that we get in there first tae make sure that Wan-bob finds oot that it wis Senga oan duty that night…fae The Stalker’s leak across in Possil and no by tracking doon the staff lists oan who wis oan duty that night.  Noo, this is the maist dangerous period jist noo.  We don’t know whit he’s up tae or when he’ll make his move, bit believe you me, Swansea, when he dis, he’ll move fast.  The main thing is fur us…The Mankys…tae be wan step aheid ae him and Charlie Hastie fae here oan in…starting wae oor pal, The Stalker.”

  Silence.

  “That’s if Paddy McPhee…The Stalker, wrote down everything that was said to him.  Lizzie Mathieson claims she only heard snatches.  Let’s be honest, Simon, he could have been drawing up a shopping list, for all we know,” Swansea argued, searching fur holes in the logic.

  “Oh, Ah widnae be too sure ae that,” Simon replied, taking an envelope oot ae his jaicket and upturning the contents ae it oan tae the table.

  “What the bloody…Good grief,” the Welshman yelped, drawing back oan his chair as if a rattlesnake hid jist landed oan the table between them, as a thick pile ae photographs spilled oot ae the envelope.

  “That’s the complete contents ae The Stalker’s notebook that he used tae scribble doon whit Haufwit Murray telt him that night, so it is.  It makes interesting reading, so it dis,” Simon said, smiling.

  “But…er…this will compromise…”

  “Naw it won’t,” Simon interjected, stoapping Swansea in his tracks.  “The Stalker’s still in possession ae that wee notebook ae his, so he is.  Aw we did wis borrow it fur five minutes, withoot his knowledge, and photograph the contents…it’s aw there in his ain haunwriting, ye’ll notice.”