Free Run Johnboy Run: The Glasgow Chronicles 2 by Ian Todd Page A

night.  There’s mair.  The forensic report, which Ah’ve read by the way, oan the windaes that hid seemingly been shot oot, never mentioned a gun being used.”
      “So, whit did it say then?”
      “It claimed the boys used glass marbles in a sling.”
      “Ye mean bools?”
       “Aye.”
      “Sammy, so far, ye’ve telt me nothing that wid lead me tae believe that the polis in the Toonheid hiv set themsels up as some sort ae avenging vigilantes who ur operating ootside ae the law.  Noo, if they wur attempting tae pop aff Pat Molloy, The Big Man, or some ae his boys, then that wid be different.  Granted, Ah widnae want tae be first in the queue when Billy Liar and Daddy Jackson wur dishing oot the second prizes.  Ah’ve seen some ae the pictures that hiv been taken efter The Irish Brigade hiv dealt wae eejits that didnae take a telling.”
      “There’s a lot mair.  The wee bampots widnae take a telling and carried oan whit they wur daeing.  Then wan Sunday, wan ae the young crowd wis spotted crossing St James Road by wan ae the local squad cars.  No only did they gie chase, bit they ran him o’er before reversing o’er the tap ae him.  This wis in broad daylight.  Despite his injuries, they bundled him intae the boot ae the car and fucked aff wae him.”
      “Naw.”
      “Oh, aye.  Remember, we’re talking aboot a ten year auld here.  There wur plenty ae witnesses aboot.  Again, that’s whit probably saved the wee tink’s life.  Who knows whit wid’ve happened tae him if people hidnae spotted him being bundled intae the back ae the car?”
      “It certainly sounds as if they wur a bit heavy-haunded.”
      “Tom, we’re no talking aboot a wee slap oan the lug or a kick up the arse here fur stealing an apple oot ae somewan’s garden.”
      “Wis he okay?”
      “Well, they refused tae take him tae the hospital, despite being bruised fae heid tae toe. They slung him in solitary confinement fur aboot ten hours withoot a drink or anything tae eat, alang wae his other three pals who’d been arrested earlier the same day.”
      “Don’t tell me?”
      “Aye, whit a bloody hiding they goat.”
      “Wur they charged?”
      “The polis?  Ur ye kidding.”
      “Naw, the boys?”
      “Wan ae the maws, a right tough cow, goat word ae whit hid happened and gathered up aw the other maws and charged doon tae Central.  She nearly caused a riot, so she did.  Started hitting them way aw sorts ae legal shite, jist like a real lawyer, aboot the wee wans’ rights…no gieing them food or water…assaulting them…you name it, she rattled aff aw the illegal stuff tae them.  Seemingly, she’s notorious fur charging aboot the area wae a gang ae local wummin, aw nutters, jist like hersel, turning up at aw the local warrant sales, causing mayhem by attacking the sheriff officers, gaun aboot their business.  Knows the law like the back ae her haun by aw accounts, so she dis.”
      “Bit, did they charge the boys wae anything?”
      “She bloody walked right oot ae the door wae the lot ae them in tow, withoot a charge tae their name.”
      “Christ, that must be a first fur doon there.”
      “Aye, The Irish Brigade wur seemingly jumping up and doon fur a week at the inspector who let them walk.  That’s when the word wis put oot.”
      “Fur whit?”
      “Tae crush they wee basturts at any cost, nae questions asked.”
      Silence.
      “Ah still don’t know, Sammy,” The Sub finally said, pursing his lips.
      “Whit don’t ye know?”
      “It aw seems a bit heavy o’er nothing.  So they tanned a couple ae shoaps?  Hardly a capital offence, is it?”
      “Tom, ye’re no listening tae whit Ah’m saying here.  Kin ye imagine the heidlines fae the competitors if we’re no oan tap ae this?  ‘Vigilante Polis Operating in the Second City ae the Empire’,” The Rat crowed, spelling oot the big heidlines wae the fingers ae baith hauns in front ae