Free Jaggy Splinters by Christopher Brookmyre Page B

to check on his writhing companion. ‘What’s the score wi’ that helicopter?’ he called.
    ‘I think an air ambulance might be more appropriate,’ Parlabane said.
    ‘Fuckin’ shut it,’ Tommy hissed. It was the only part of Jyzer’s role he had been so far able to assimilate.
    ‘It’s over, Tommy,’ Parlabane said quietly. ‘Your pal’s in a bad way, there’s polis everywhere, and I’m afraid you’re three hundred miles from the nearest underground postal railway, which is in London.’
    ‘It’s no’. There’s wan here. We’ve had information.’
    ‘Is everybody okay in there?’ asked the policeman.
    ‘STAY OOT!’ Tommy warned again, his voice starting to tremble. ‘The situation’s no’ changed. Stay oot.’
    Jyzer continued to moan in the corner, convulsed also by the occasional cough.
    ‘There’s no such things as Insurance Bonds, Tommy,’ Parlabane told him.
    ‘Shut it. There is.’
    ‘Where did you get this “information”?’
    ‘That’s ma business.’
    ‘Did you pay for it? Is someone on a percentage?’
    ‘Naw. Aye. The second wan.’
    ‘Never done anything like this before, have you?’
    Jyzer moaned again, eyes closed against the pain..
    Tommy shook his head. He was starting to look scared, like he needed his mammy to take him home.
    ‘Somebody put you up to it? Somebody force you?’
    ‘Naw,’ he said defensively. ‘We were offered this. Hand-picked. He gied us the information, an’ we’d tae gie him forty per cent o’ the cally efterwards.’
    ‘You been inside before? Recently?’
    ‘Aye. Oot six weeks. Baith ay us.’
    ‘And I take it you weren’t inside for armed robbery.’
    He shook his head again.
    Parlabane nodded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his compact little mobile phone.
    ‘Whit ye daein’? Put that doon.’
    ‘Just let me call the cops outside, okay? Save us shoutin’ through the wall the whole time.’
    ‘Aye awright.’
    He dialled the number for Gayfield Square, explained the situation and asked to be patched through to the main man on-site.
    ‘Are you sure you’re all right, sir?’ the cop in charge asked. ‘What’s your name? Do you need us to get a message to someone?’
    ‘I’m fine. My name’s Jack Parlabane. Yes, that Jack Parlabane, and spare me the might-have-knowns. I didn’t try to get myself into this, it just happened. Now, Tommy here’s not quite ready to end this, I don’t think. But I was wondering whether you might want to scale down the ARU involvement out there. I’ve got a feeling you’ll be needing them elsewhere fairly imminently.’
    ‘Too late,’ the cop informed him. ‘Somebody hit the Royal Bank at the west end of George St about fifteen minutes ago while we were scratching our arses back here. By the time any of our lot got there it was all in the past tense. We’ve been had.’
    ‘You’re not the only ones.’
    ‘What was that?’ Tommy asked.
    ‘Bank robbery, Tommy,’ he told him ‘A proper one. Carried out less than a mile from here while the police Armed Response Unit were holding their dicks outside a post office. Now who do you think could have been behind that? Same guy gave you “the information” maybe?’
    ‘But… but… we…’
    ‘You were right about being hand-picked, Tommy. And you can both take some satisfaction from the fact that you carried out the plan exactly as intended. Unfortunately, you were intended to fuck up. What were the instructions? Grab the mysterious Insurance Bonds, create a hostage situation, keep the polis occupied, then escape via the magical underground railway? And were you given a specific date and time, perhaps?’
    There was confusion in Tommy’s eyes, but on the whole resignation was starting to replace defiance. Jyzer gave a last mournful splutter and passed out.
    ‘Don’t suppose you want to score a few points with the boys in blue by telling them who set you up so they can get on to his tail?’
    ‘Mair than ma life’s