Chapter Forty Two
The madness ae the New Year hid started tae recede intae the distant past, which wis fur the best, The Stalker thought tae himsel, plapping that arse ae his doon oan tae the cauld, shiny, wooden pew in St Teresa’s. He wis fair chuffed wae his new sergeant, Fitzgerald Kennedy, or King Bushwhacker, as he wis referred tae behind his back by aw the wee neds in the toon. Fitz hid a history that went back years wae Tony Gucci’s manky mob, which meant that even if The Stalker goat distracted by the demands ae his new promotion, Fitz could be trusted tae keep the pressure oan the thieving toads. The Stalker smiled, thinking aboot Fitz’s first night oan the job in Springburn. Unfortunately, Fitz hid managed tae get his nose broken oan Hogmanay, bang oan the third chime ae the bells at midnight. He’d started his very first shift at ten p.m. efter being informed by Central that he hid tae report fur duty at the Springburn polis office that very night. The Stalker hid been fair chuffed wae the appointment. Fitz wis wan ae the biggest basturts ye could ever meet...even bigger than Bumper, and that wis saying something. He wisnae anywan’s mug, took nae shite fae anywan and could staun his ground as and when required. Jist before the bells, him and another couple ae pavement pounders, Hope and Glory, hid arrived up at the Balgrayhill flats tae try tae calm doon a domestic situation before it goat oot ae haun and spread like wild-fire. There hid been at least a dozen domestic incidents up in Balgrayhill every week since the mid- sixties, when the flats hid been built tae hoose aw the folk that wur being cleared oot ae the slums in the Toonheid, Coocaddens and Maryhill. Within seconds ae the arrival ae Glesga’s finest, it hid become clear tae them that it wis gonnae be difficult tae work oot who the real hooseholders wur and who wur the guests. Their initial quandary hid been due tae the fact that battles wur taking place in the parking bays at the front ae the building, up and doon the stairwells and oan the six sets ae landings that ran horizontally alang the side ae the buildings.
“Fur fuck’s sake, how the hell ur we supposed tae sort this oot?” Bob Hope hid exclaimed, looking at his partner, Spencer Tracy Glory.
“Er, should we no be shouting fur a wee bit ae back up here, Fitz?” Glory hid asked.
“Ach, it’s the New Year, boys. It’s only a wee bit ae boisterousness that’s goat oot ae haun. Wance the bells start, they’ll aw start hugging the fuck oot ae each other,” Fitz hid said confidently, jist as the bells started tae chime, announcing midnight and the start ae a new year.
“Duck!” Hope hid screamed.
Glory hid jist managed tae get that neck ae his doon intae his collar as a McEwen’s Pale Ale screw-tap bottle whizzed by his hat like a Polaris missile. Fitz wisnae as fortunate as he swung his heid roond tae see whit it wis he wis supposed tae be ducking oot ae the way ae. When the base ae the thick green glass bottle landed smack oan that beak ae his, Fitz hid hit the ground as quickly and as loudly as a sack ae shite being slung oot ae the tap flair windae ae a multi-storey flat. By the time Hope and Glory hid managed tae cart him aff back tae the car and up tae Stobhill Hospital, the celebrations ae the Families At War hid fizzled oot. There hid been nae witnesses, of course. Two hours efter Fitz's unfortunate introduction tae life in sunny Springburn, Bumper hid gone and goat himsel stabbed in the arse wae a screwdriver efter ladling intae a gang ae wee neds who wur battling amongst themsels in front ae the fire station oan the corner ae Keppochhill Road, jist opposite Jonah’s Lounge. Froggie Shearer, Bumper’s partner, hid suffered a few cracked ribs in the same fracas. Earlier oan in the evening, well before the bells, Biscuit Smith, The Stalker's auld partner, hid goat kicked fuck oot ae by a bunch ae hairys, fur trying tae lift wan ae their husbands or boyfriends, fur flashing his tadger at a couple ae Sally Army virgins who wur oot collecting money fur the poor weans in Africa. Normally, Biscuit widnae hiv bothered, bit the mad flasher hid hid his troosers roond aboot his ankles and hid been scurrying efter the shrieking vestals wae a hard-on that resembled a pickaxe haundle…an offensive weapon in anywan’s book. Despite verbal warnings fae Biscuit that he wis committing a breach ae the peace, the mad chopper-wielding ignoramus hid jist continued tae terrorise the vestals. When Biscuit hid withdrawn his baton fae his pocket and whacked the swinging wan-eyed monk wae his big stick, the wummin who’d been wae the flasher, hid pounced. Fur a week efter the New Year, people hid kept saying tae Biscuit that they hidnae been aware that he suffered fae severe alopecia. The madness hidnae calmed doon until aboot the fourth ae January when everywan’s booze and money hid run oot. By that time, hauf the wummin in Springburn hid been walking aboot wae black eyes and the men folk wur sporting bald patches oan tap ae their heids where the doctors up at Stobhill hid hid tae shave their nappers before inserting stitches. Christ, even Happy Harry, the desk sergeant back at the station, hidnae escaped being assaulted while he wis at work. The Stalker sighed, shaking his heid in disgust. Wan ae the female trapeze artists, who wis a wee midget, who’d been entertaining the masses across in the Kelvin Hall o’er the Christmas period, hid goat arrested. She’d swung between the two lights that hung fae the ceiling in the station reception and hid gied Happy a swift kick in the gub when he’d refused tae let her man, a Polish fire-eater, oot efter being lifted fur being drunk and disorderly. The Polish consul hid eventually turned up oan New Year’s day, claiming diplomatic immunity fur the fire-eater and hid managed tae get him oot, so the show could go oan, bit no before The Stalker hid made sure Cannonball Kate hid copped it good and hard. The flying flea hid goat remanded tae Gateside wummin’s nick, protesting her innocence, despite hivving been caught, bang tae rights, in mid-air, oan camera by Slipper, the photographer fae The Glesga Echo, who jist happened tae be in, enquiring if there wis anything worth photographing.
Before Springburn, Fitz hid pounded the pavements in some ae the biggest middens in the city, hivving started as a constable in the early sixties across in the Gorbals, before moving oan tae Bridgeton, Possil and then back across the Clyde tae Govan and Kinning Park as a sergeant. Fitz hid goat his nickname efter spending nine months in the car-blagging squad that hid been set up in the late sixties, tae monitor aw the car parks in and aroond the city centre. This hid involved bizzies sitting oan tap ae the colleges and university buildings in the blagging triangle ae Cathedral Street, Cunningham Street and John Street, checking oot whit wis happening at street level through high-powered binoculars. Every day, thousands ae cars converged oan the surrounding streets and parked up fur the day. It also attracted aw the car thieves and blaggers fae aw o’er the city, who saw the unattended cars as easy pickings. When a known or suspected car-blagger wis spotted, the boys oan the roofs radioed doon tae the team oan the ground who then swung intae action. The car-blaggers themsels hid started talking aboot how they’d been bushwhacked by the plain-clothes boys and then the emphasis hid shifted tae Fitz as King Bushwhacker. Efter that, the name hid stuck and hid followed him wherever he went. Within six months ae the car-blagging squad being set-up, car thefts and car break-ins in and aroond the car parks and streets ae the toon centre hid plummeted tae an all-time low. While this hid been heralded, at the time, as evidence that the bizzies wur tough oan crime, the blagging squad hidnae completely wiped oot the problem. In fact, the day efter Harold Sliver hid done a feature oan the squad in The Evening Citizen, Tony Gucci’s manky mob hid decided this wis jist too much ae a challenge tae ignore. Sliver’s article hid included a panoramic double spread picture ae aw the cars, parked wae their noses intae the pavement, oan baith sides ae North Fredrick Street, between Parly Road and George’s Square, taken fae the Stow College Building oan Cathedral Street. There hid also been a cracking photo ae a couple ae the squad, lying stretched oot oan the roof, wearing balaclavas, binoculars up tae their eyes and trained oan the streets below. Jack Tipple, the newly-appointed Assistant Chief Constable at that time, hid come doon tae the squad room tae commend Fitz and the boys fur daeing such a wonderful job and hid goat his photo taken shaking Fitz’s haun, wae The Evening Citizen’s panoramic photo blown up as a backdrop. The photo hid eventually been published in the Polis Gazette. Because ae aw the shite that hid been flying aboot wae the big corruption investigation gaun oan, everywan hid been desperate fur a good news story, as moral within the force hid been lower than a black adder's fanny at the time. Sliver’s article hid appeared in the Monday evening’s edition. Oan the Tuesday, seven radios hid goat ripped oot ae cars that hid been sitting, parked up oan Grafton Square, five radios and five cameras hid been blagged fae John Street, which ran aff ae Grafton Square and oan North Fredrick Street, it hid been even worse...seventeen cars hid been targeted. Their contents, including radios, cameras, tartan rugs and other odds and sods hid been taken. The icing oan the cake though, hid been the three cars that hid goat blagged, especially the wan that belonged tae the guy who played James Bond in the 007 films. Tae make matters even worse, aw the pillaging hid happened right under the noses ae the squad up oan the roof. Grafton Square, John Street and North Fredrick Street hid been the three closest streets tae the Stow College building. Fitz hid gaun ballistic.
“Welcome tae oor world,” The Stalker remembered Bumper saying tae Fitz as Fitz demolished a chair in the squad room by smashing it against the wall.
That hid been Fitz’s first introduction tae Tony Gucci, Paul McBride, Joe McManus, Johnboy Taylor and the quiet mute, Samuel Smith, who’d jist arrived oan the scene, oot ae the blue. They’d aw been aged between thirteen and fourteen-years-auld at the time and hid still hid a long way tae go before they’d become involved in the murder ae wan ae Glesga’s tap gangsters. Tae gie Fitz his due, it hid been acknowledged within Central that it hid been doon tae Fitz’s persistence and determination that the polis hid eventually managed tae suss oot and detect how the manky basturts hid still been managing tae body-swerve the surveillance. Efter the humiliation and challenge fae Gucci and his wee manky-arsed crowd, Fitz hid become a man possessed and obsessed, so he hid. Needless tae say, the other two newspapers, The Evening Times and The Glesga Echo, who hidnae been in oan the exclusive ae getting tae be up oan the roof wae the car-blagging squad, hid hammered Fitz’s team. The Evening Times hid run wae ‘CARBUNCLE’ whilst The Glesga Echo hid hid ‘CAR-BUNGLERS’ splashed across their front pages. Efter the heidlines, it hid gone quiet fur aboot a week tae ten days, and then the blaggers hid come back as if nothing hid changed. A few cars hid started tae get their windaes tanned here and there and the contents ae the back seats, alang wae their radios swiped. Then the cars themsels hid started tae disappear. The thefts in the toon centre overall hid still been doon, bit it soon became clear tae aw and sundry that somewan or some crowd wur jist carrying oan as if the costly anti-crime initiative wis aimed at somewan else and no them. Eventually, efter aboot two months ae sleepless nights and scratching that heid and arse ae his, Fitz hid goat the break he’d been praying fur. By a stroke ae luck, Fitz hid been up oan the roof, gieing wan ae the spotters a break, when he’d clocked a wee red Ford Escort parking up oan a bit ae spare ground that wis being used as a temporary car park at the tap ae North Hanover Street. The Escort hid stoapped fur a few minutes, engine idling, withoot anywan getting oot ae the car and hid then driven aff again. It hid been while it wis sitting stationary that Fitz hid thought he’d caught a reflection fae the sun aff ae wan ae the back side windaes ae the car. It hid been aw o’er in a flash, so tae speak, and hidnae made any impression oan him at the time. Wance the car hid moved aff, something hid kept niggling at him aboot how the sun hid managed tae beam aff the back passenger windae, given that he’d no clocked anywan stepping oot ae the vehicle. Aboot an hour later, the car hid come back tae the same car park, edging its way roond the makeshift road, looking fur a parking space. Fitz and Big Bob Bleacher hid baith followed it through their binoculars. It hid stoapped, and then reversed in wan swift movement intae a space. It hid been too perfect. Even fae where Fitz and Big Bob hid been lying watching, they could see that the parking space itsel wis as tight as a nun’s fud. Whoever hid been driving that red Escort hid been jist a tad too cocky in parking a brand new car…unless they didnae gie a fuck...because it didnae belong tae them. Fitz hid said later that he’d been dying tae scratch his arse as the sweat hid been trickling doon between his crack, bit he’d been scared tae breathe, let alone tae turn roond and poke his middle finger up his bum.
“There! Did ye catch him, Bob?” he’d squealed at Big Bob lying beside him.
“Aye, Ah bloody well did that, Fitz. Ah’ll jist gie Beanpole a shout oan the radio.”
“Naw, naw, leave it. Let the fuck-pigs go. They’ll be back. Ah want tae watch this fur a wee while yet tae see whit else they get up tae,” Fitz hid said gleefully, rolling o’er oan tae his back, thanking God, who he didnae believe in, as the red car took aff oot ae its parking space and drove aff doon Cunningham Street towards Dundas Street.
Baith Fitz and Big Bob hid clocked a fleeting glimpse ae Johnboy Taylor’s carrot-red heid, appearing fae underneath a parked car beside the Escort, before quickly slipping oot fae under it and in tae the back seat ae the Escort. It hid looked like he wis dragging a broon sack behind him. Sure enough, throughoot the rest ae that day, as owners returned tae their cars, Central reported that they’d received calls that eleven cars hid been broken intae in that wan car park alone. O’er the next ten days, Fitz and his team hid tracked suspicious cars as soon as they arrived. They’d built up a picture and hid identified Gucci, McBride, McManus, Taylor and Smith as the culprits. They wid arrive, sometimes in two freshly stolen cars and park up. Wan ae them, who wid be in the back, wid slip oot ae the back door and crawl under the cars adjacent tae the wan they’d arrived in. The driver wid then piss aff fur aboot an hour and then return and park up in the same row as he’d parked in earlier. Fitz hid reported that aw ae them hid taken turns ae driving. Within a few minutes ae parking up, the blagger wid crawl towards the parked car that hid jist arrived tae pick him up and slip in, usually carrying a bag ae goodies, and that wis that. Two attempts at cutting them aff and arresting the basturts hid failed, bit the fact that everywan knew who it wis that wis daeing aw the damage hid been enough. At that time, Gucci’s crowd hid aw been oan the run fae various approved schools. When they’d eventually been caught, they’d aw been charged wae car theft and breaking intae cars. As they’d awready been daeing time in approved schools, aw the charges against them hid eventually been drapped, much tae Fitz’s irritation. Fur him, it hid meant aw the angst and grief hid been fur nothing. He'd gone through aw that humiliation and sleepless nights tae finally catch the bad guys, or boys, as it hid been in this case, only tae find oot that nothing could be done tae them and the wee basturts hid jist laughed at him. Then, tae add insult tae injury, Fitz hid bumped intae Gucci in wan ae the corridors doon in Central, jist as Gucci wis being escorted back tae whitever approved school he’d absconded fae.