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

them.  “Who else his been at the receiving end ae their self-styled justice that we don’t know aboot, eh? This could be massive.”
      “Ah’m still no convinced ye’ve telt me anything that wid lead me tae believe we’ve goat rogue polis trawling the streets, dishing oot vigilante justice.  We aw know whit that Irish Brigade are capable ae, bit given whit they awready get away wae, getting shot ae a ten year auld fur breaking shoap windaes seems a bit far-fetched tae me, so it dis.  As Ah’ve awready said, if it hid been gangsters at the receiving end, fair enough.  Ur ye sure that it wisnae jist the local pavement pounders being a bit heavy-haunded wae the boys tae get them tae stoap upsetting everywan?  Tangling wae that Irish Brigade kin be bad fur yer health, so it kin.”
    ”Tell me.  Ah’ve been gaun aboot wae ma arse jumping every time Ah hear a car door slam up there in the Toonheid.”
      “So, hiv ye spoken tae the wee boys?”
      “Naw, they’re slippery as fish, plus there’s a problem.”
      “Surely no?” The Sub asked sarcastically.
      “Ah’ve heard the polis hiv goat a plant in amongst them.”
      “Whit dae ye mean?”
      “That wan ae the young wans is gieing the local plods inside info.”
      “Fur Christ’s sake, Sammy, this is getting muddier every time ye open that gub ae yers.”
      “That’s the nature ae whit we’re dealing wae here.”
      “Whit aboot the deid boy’s family or the maw who seemingly knows aw aboot the law?  Hiv ye spoken tae any ae them yet?”
      “The family ur oot ae bounds due tae the auld man being a bed-ridden invalid and the maw hivving hid a nervous breakdoon when she heard aboot the fire.  They’ve shipped her oot tae Lennox Castle under a section.  Ah’ve tried tae talk tae Ma Barker, bit she gied me a body swerve.  Telt me tae fuck aff in the street this efternoon, she did.  Disnae look as if she takes any prisoners either.”
      “So, how ur we and the other competitors reporting it?”
      “That there wis a fire in a cabin dookit up oan Parly Road that hid a ten year auld boy and his dug in it, who wis probably playing wae matches or a candle and that polis enquiries ur continuing.”
      “Right, this will need tae go tae the editors’ meeting at five o’clock.  Hamish McGovern will hiv the final say.  Keep aw this tae yersel and Ah’ll get back tae ye.  Bit, if he says naw, then it’s naw, and ye drap it like a hot brick.  Hiv ye goat that, Sammy?  In the meantime, see if ye kin get yer hauns oan any ae the boys.”
    “Ye’re the boss, Tom,” The Rat said, smiling as he stood up.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

 
    Chapter Nine
      There wur white wans, broon wans, pink wans, cream wans, black wans, green wans, red wans, blue wans and Johnboy’s favourite…green tartan wans.  They wur aw at the tap ae and attached tae, thin wans, fat wans, stocky wans, dumpy wans, tall wans, bow-shaped wans and even wan-legged wans.  Oan their feet wur size wans, twos, threes, fours, fives, sixes, sevens, eights, nines, tens, elevens and plenty ae fat wans.  The three ae them wur lying oan their backs, face up, wae their heids pointing towards the pavement, under the gap between the bottom ae the windae and the pavement ae Samuel’s The Jewellers oan Union Street.  The gap wis aboot eighteen inches high, jist big enough fur them tae lie and clock aw the pants ae the wummin and big lassies who stoapped tae hiv a look at the jewellery in the windae.  Johnboy hid never seen up a wummin’s dress before, so he thought it wis dead exciting tae see whit the tap ae their legs looked like under their skirts.
      “First wan tae clock a fanny pad gets an apple,” Joe said, crunching in tae wan ae the apples they’d grabbed fae ootside the fruit shoap oan Dundas Street oan the way doon.
      “Ye’re oan,” said Tony, rising tae the challenge.
      “Hing oan.  Whit am Ah supposed tae be looking fur?” Johnboy