The Silver Arrow (28 page)

Chapter Thirty Eight

  Simon hid jist turned intae Barrington Avenue at the Great Western Road end when he clocked Jake’s wee Merc hammering doon Great Western Road towards them.  He swung the steering wheel ae his 1972 Jenson Interceptor Mark Three tae the left, as he screeched tae a halt, wan wheel mounting the pavement, before he jumped oot.

  “Whit the fuck ur ye daeing, Simon?” Ben yelped, jumping oot ae the passenger side.

  Simon ran back tae the road end and flagged Jake’s sports car doon jist as he turned intae the avenue.

  “Look, Ah’ve jist clocked a car turning right oan tae West Princess Street at the tap ae the avenue.  It might be them.  Here’s the keys tae Senga’s flat,” Simon shouted, throwing the keys through Jake’s passenger windae.

  “Whit if they’ve managed tae get intae the flat?” Jake asked, looking up the avenue, a worried look spread across that face ae his.  “It’s been aboot ten minutes since Ah spoke tae her.”

  “Then there’s probably no much we kin dae aboot it.  Get yer arse up there while me and Ben try tae heid that car aff.  They might hiv her in the boot wae them.  Ah’ll speak tae ye later,” Simon shouted, running across tae the Jenson as Jake sped up the avenue.

  Simon put the car intae reverse and shot back oot oan tae Great Western Road wae the wheels screaming in defiance, before heiding aff westwards.

  “Whit kind a car ur we looking fur?” Ben asked, checking that there wis a full clip ae ammo in the haungun he held in his hauns.

  “Ah’m no sure.  It wis the brake lights Ah clocked,” Simon cursed through gritted teeth, slowing doon and stoapping at the traffic lights at the junction ae Park Road, as his wiper blades kicked in.

  “That’s a big help,” Ben murmured, looking up the deserted road as he lowered his windae tae get a better view.  “Whit dae ye think?”

  “Pass” Simon admitted.

  “Dae ye think they’ve heided towards Gibson Street?”

  “Maybe,” Simon replied, shifting intae first gear, continuing alang the road at an even speed as the wipers came oan intermittingly.  “Keep yer eyes oan they side streets, Ben.”

  Efter crossing the bridge o’er the River Kelvin, Simon turned left intae Otago Street and then took a sharp right turn intae Glesga Street.  They wur only hauf way up the hill when they spotted the latest Vauxhall Cavalier Mark Wan model passing fae the left tae the right ae them, further up oan Bank Street.  They could clearly see that the driver wis Spotty Hector.

  “Thank fuck,” Ben grunted, as he leaned forward, placing his foreheid oan the dashboard in front ae him, before withdrawing another haungun fae under the seat. ”It looks like they’re heiding across tae Maryhill, so it dis.”

  “Hiv ye goat silencers fur them?” Simon asked, turning tae look at him while keeping wan eye oan which direction Spotty Hector wis gonnae take them, as they arrived at the junction ae Bank Street, the powerful engine idling.

“Ah’ve jist goat the wan,” Ben replied, lifting up the gun wae the silencer attached, as they clocked Spotty turn left oan tae Great Western Road.  “Ah’ll rephrase ma earlier prediction.  They’re aff tae Loch Lomond,” Ben announced, smiling, the green light being reflected aff the wet tar ae the road, as Simon turned right and followed Bank Street doon tae the junction before turning back oan tae Great Western Road, where he’d exited a few minutes earlier.

  “Then that’s whit we’re using.  Ah’ll take the other wan as back up, jist in case ye fuck up,” Simon telt him, keeping an eye oan the Cavalier up aheid and happy tae stay tucked in behind a black Hackney taxi.  “A tenner says they’ll turn doon Byres Road.”

  “Ye’re oan,” Ben agreed, jist as the Cavalier signalled tae go left.

  “That’s a tenner oan tap ae aw the other tenners ye still owe me,” Simon reminded him, happy that the taxi behind the bright yellow Cavalier also turned intae Byres Road.

  “So, whit’s yer thinking then?” Ben asked him.

  “Aboot whit?”

  “Aboot whether they’ve goat Senga stashed in the boot or no?”

  “Ah’m no sure, bit we’ll find oot soon enough.  Noo, listen up, Ben…don’t fuck aboot noo.  The first chance we get, Ah want they basturts dealt wae.  Make sure it’s heid shots.”

  “Don’t you worry aboot me.  They basturts won’t be watching the sun setting by the time Ah’m finished wae them,” Ben replied, switching oan the radio.  “Where dae ye think they’re heiding?”

  “Ah don’t know…it looks like Dumbarton Road,” Simon murmured, switching the wipers fae intermittent tae full, as the rain pelted doon heavier, tae the rolling bass beat ae Stevie Wonder’s ‘Living fur the City’ filling the inside ae the car.  “Innervisions.”

  “Dae ye no mean a penny fur yer thoughts?”

  “Ah meant the album the song came fae, ya twat, ye,” Simon scowled, as Ben laughed.

  “Ah knew that, ya tit, ye.  And Ah meant where dae ye think they’re heiding tae?”

  “Ah’m no sure, probably back intae the toon centre.”

  “That’s no very helpful, is it?”

  “We need tae take this pair oot ae the game the night.  We might no get another chance that’s as good as this,” Simon replied, cursing, as the taxi turned right oan tae Lawrence Street, leaving nae cover between them and the Cavalier.

  “No too quick noo,” Ben murmured, as the baith ae them watched the brake lights come oan, lighting up the wet road in front ae them, before they continued oan across Dumbarton Road, swinging left at an angle intae Benalder Street and doon towards Auld Dumbarton Road.

  “Ma money’s oan the Clyde, so it is.  It looks like they’re heiding intae the toon via the Broomielaw,” Ben volunteered.

  “Is that double or quits?”

  “Too true, it is,” Ben replied, as Simon managed tae get across Dumbarton Road oan the amber, as the Cavalier in front slowed, before turning right oan tae Ferry Road.

  Simon knew they’d be in trouble if the Cavalier reached the toon centre.  Even though it wis the middle ae the night, there wid still be plenty ae traffic heiding in and oot ae the centre, wae people gaun aboot.  It widnae hiv been so bad if he hidnae been using his ain car.  He could only hope their luck continued and they’d get a chance ae getting at them before reaching The King George Bridge at Oswald Street.  It felt weird tae be following a car wae two ae The Big Man’s tap killers behind the wheel, wae the possibility that Senga Jackson could be lying tied up and gagged in the boot.  It hid crossed his mind tae try tae take them oot at a set ae traffic lights, bit there wisnae any guarantee that Ben wid manage the two ae them.  He knew fine well that wance they started, it hid tae be a hunner percent successful.  It didnae only concern him and Ben, bit the rest ae The Mankys wur also deid if they didnae manage tae get Spotty Hector and whoever wis sitting beside him in the wan go.  It wis also crucial tae make sure that if Senga wis lying oan the back seat or in the boot ae the Cavalier, she wisnae caught up in any crossfire.  He wondered how Jake wis getting oan.

  “Telt ye,” Ben exclaimed, clearly chuffed wae himsel, as Spotty turned left oan tae Pointhoose Road, heiding in the direction ae Finnieston.

  At the far end ae Pointhoose Road, the Cavalier turned right oan tae Finnieston Street.

  “Right, this is where we hiv tae be careful.  This place is like a graveyard at this time ae the night wae aw these big warehooses and Spotty Hector isnae daft,” Simon warned his passenger, turning aff his heidlights as he slowly turned intae Finnieston Street.

  “Whit the fuck is he up tae?” Ben whispered oan behauf ae the two ae them, as Simon pulled o’er tae the pavement, avoiding touching they brakes ae his and glad that the rain hid stoapped.

  They sat and watched Spotty Hector drive intae whit looked like a wee narrow lane jist before the junction ae the Broomielaw.

  “Greasy Jake disnae hiv a warehoose this far oot, dis he?” Ben wondered, turning roond and looking back up the street.

  “Ah don’t know, bit there’s only wan way tae find oot,” Simon replied, reaching across and lifting the spare haungun aff ae Ben’s lap before opening the door and stepping oot.

  “Fuck, it’s bloody freezing,” Ben growled, catching up wae him.

  By the time they reached the cobbled lane, there wis nae sign ae the Cavalier.

  “Look, Finnieston Lane,” Ben whispered, nodding at the street sign above their heids.  “Whit dae ye think?” Ben asked again, looking up and doon the street.

  “Ah’m no sure.  Ah think this cuts aff tae the right further in and comes oot oan tae the Broomielaw,” Simon replied quietly, starting tae shiver wae the cauld, looking up and doon the street.

  “Hmm,” Ben snorted, no convinced.

  “Let’s go,” Simon commanded, disappearing intae the dark, quickly followed by Ben.

  “This reminds me ae that song, so it dis,” Ben said, catching Simon up.

  “Song?  Whit song?”

  “Living Fur The City.”

  “Whit aboot it?”

  “A boy is born, in doon toon Mississippi,” Ben sang quietly, grinning. “Ghettos. that’s whit the song’s aboot.  Living in Ghettos…Christ, Ah’d love tae be able tae run aboot in a ghetto…Ah’d show the basturts.”

  “Ben, wis there any particular event that happened tae ye when ye wur a wee snapper growing up in the ghetto that wis Springburn or wur ye jist fucking thick fae birth?”

  “Aye, Ah ended up getting in tow wae thick pricks like you when a wis at school, so Ah did,” Ben retorted, as the pair ae them ground tae a halt at the corner ae the turn-aff tae the right.

  The baith ae them pulled their scarves up o’er their gubs, so as no tae gie themsels away wae their breathing in the freezing temperature and peered roond the corner, jist as a Glesga Echo van whizzed past the entrance ae the lane doon oan the Broomielaw, where the Cavalier wis sitting parked up aboot twenty feet in fae it.

  “Kin ye see anything?” Ben whispered, as a ship’s horn let rip somewhere in the distance.

  “Naw,” Simon replied.

  The inside ae the Cavalier suddenly lit up, as the passenger struck a match and lit up a fag.  They could hear the faint sound ae music.

  “Well, they’re definitely at hame, bit whit the fuck ur they up tae?”

  “Ah’m no sure.”

  “Whit’s doon oan the Broomielaw, at this end, that wid be so interesting tae that pair ae pricks at this time ae the night, other than the stench ae cat’s pish?”

  “Who knows?  The Finnieston Ferry is jist alang tae the left.  The rest ae it is surrounded by docks and quays.  Tae the right is the Queen’s Dock and the wee pedestrian tunnel that takes ye across tae the other side ae The Clyde.  Straight in front ae us is the Lancefield Quay, wae Govan beyond that oan the other side ae the water.”

  “Dae ye think they’re waiting oan somewan?”

  “Or looking oot fur somewan, mair like,” Simon whispered.  “Whitever…this is oor chance.  Ur ye ready?” Simon asked him, looking Ben straight in the eye, slipping the haungun oot ae his jaicket pocket.

  Ben checked the silencer oan his Walther PP.

  “So, how dae ye want tae play this?” Ben asked him in a whisper, nodding tae let Simon know he wis ready.

  “Ah think we keep it straightforward and jist wander doon.  This place is practically pitch black, so it is.  They won’t be expecting us, as long as we don’t kick a can o’er or tread oan a pishy cat oan the way.  Jist before we reach the Cavalier, move oot oan tae the road, in case Spotty tries tae make a quick getaway,” Simon whispered.

  “Don’t ye worry, he’ll be the first tae cop it,” Ben replied grimly, as the two ae them moved aff.

  Simon let Ben go in front as he wanted tae haud back, in the interests ae safety, making sure no tae let his body get in the line ae fire.  He tapped Ben oan the shoulder.

  “Remember Ah’m here, so don’t fucking shoot me, Ben,” Simon whispered in warning, as Ben chuckled and nodded.

The shapes ae the two figures inside the car started tae come intae focus as they drew nearer.  ‘Mama Telt Me No Tae Come’ by Three Dog Night could be heard playing oan the radio.  The passenger windae wis open a quarter ae the way doon, despite the cauld, and the smoke fae a fag wis being blown oot in a straight, sharp stream. 

  “Make sure ye don’t let loose intae the back seat or the boot, in case Senga is there.  Johnboy wid never furgive us,” Simon whispered, as Ben turned and gied him a dirty look before stepping aff the wee narrow pavement oan tae the square cobbled surface ae the lane.

  Nothing happened in slow motion like the first shooting Simon hid been involved in.  Ben hidnae fucked aboot.  He quickly walked roond tae the front left wing ae the parked car, jist in front ae Chic Shand in the passenger seat, crouched doon wae his feet splayed, haudin the pistol wae baith hauns in front ae him and let loose, jist as Spotty Hector wis in the process ae lifting up the sawn-aff shotgun.  The back passenger windae behind the driver’s seat exploded in front ae Simon, causing him tae jump back.  In that same instant, Chic Shand, in the passenger seat, made a spirited effort tae try and get oot ae the car.  Simon watched as that heid ae his appeared briefly above the open passenger door, a second before it exploded in a puff ae black mist, silhouetted in the semi-darkness by the street lights doon oan the Broomielaw, before disappearing back in tae where it hid exited fae a millisecond or so earlier.  Simon walked past the driver’s door, peering through the glass.  Spotty Hector wis sitting shaking, slumped back in the driver’s seat, his heid twisted tae the side, bent back o’er the back ae it, wae his mooth wide open and the right haun side ae his foreheid missing.