I knew of Eddie. Most people in our game did. A major player down south. Old school. Friend of the Krays and all that.
‘He’d died a while back. Car crash somewhere in the sticks,’ I said.
‘Spot on. Only thing was that he was found with no head. Nothing to do with the crash. It would seem that Eddie got in the car — minus his head, which would make steering difficult, drove into a tree and the petrol tank exploded’
‘Anything else.’
‘Chuck Semple.’
Another name I knew and another dead man.
‘Went swimming in a DJ in St Catherine’s dock.’
‘And? Were they connected?’
‘Rumour mill says so. Add to that about half a dozen of both Eddie’s and Chuck’s senior crew going missing and you can see a pattern.’
‘Fuck. That’s serious shit.’
‘Could be. Might just be a turf war. I left London before Chuck went for a dip so I’m a little out of touch.’
I knew how hard it had been for Martin to come home. He’d offered up a raft of future favours to Mr Read before he was allowed back. Read had taken his offers and tripled them. Martin was in for a few years full of crap. No wonder he was opening up. I represented a way out.
‘So why would they approach me. I’m hardly in Read’s inner circle.’
‘Story goes,’ he says, ‘that this new mob don’t want the old guard when they move into an area. Too unreliable. Too likely to rebel. They don’t need thinkers, just doers. Foot soldiers they can mould. If they are coming to Scotland then you fit the bill.’
‘Me?’
‘Take Jack Rushent. He worked for Eddie. Low level but bright. A month after Eddie and his team vanish Jack suddenly has money on his hip and has moved up a social circle or two. He’s about your age and was about your level.’
I mulled this over.
‘Look,’ said Martin. ‘I think you’ve just been made an offer you can’t refuse.’
‘How do you figure? It could be Read checking me out.’
‘Could be — but unlikely. If someone is moving in, Read has far better things to do than check up on every grunt in the team. Besides what would he learn? That some of his trusted men were willing to jump sides for a wedge. Hardly a revelation is it? I think the offer is genuine.’
‘So what do I do?’
‘Why ask me?’
‘Because I think you know more than you are letting on.’
Martin closed his eyes and shook his head — loosing the cobwebs.
‘Tell you what,’ he said. ‘You cut me in for a cut of your cut and I’ll help you out.’
‘What about Read?’
‘If this is really going down I’d rather be on the winning side. He was an idiot with the job in London. From what I hear he is history, with a motorway support as a grave in his near future. But you’re going to have to be plenty smart if you want to get through this intact. If Read gets wind you are on the flip he’ll nail your balls to the City Chambers.’
I wanted time to think but I knew my decision. Martin was right. Hobson’s choice.
A day later I offered him twenty percent of my cut and he agreed. I phoned the number on the piece of paper and was told to go to Tennents Bar in Byres Rd in the west end of Glasgow. I told them about Martin and was asked to bring him along. They didn’t seem bothered about him.
I was to meet a man carrying a copy of the Daily Telegraph. Brave man — that could get you killed in some pubs in Glasgow back then.
I turned up with Martin in tow and we were bundled into a car and driven to a small flat in Yoker. We were told to cool our heels in the flat for forty-eight hours and we would be contacted. We had no guards but it was clear what would happen if we stepped outside the door.
Two days later and David Read was headline news on Scotland Today when his body was found in a coalbunker behind a small hotel on the south side. We later found out that he had been discovered with a dick in his mouth. Not his own but Craig Laidlaw’s. Craig’s body was found on wasteland near the Clyde and three other known associates of Read’s were declared permanently AWOL.
On the third night the gunman and his mate reappeared and told us how it was going to be. We didn’t have much choice so went along for the ride.
Chapter 13
You would think that my life was full of the cloak and dagger nonsense back then and, to be fair, it sometimes felt like that. But most of the time I just put my head down and got on with life. True I was no nine to five guy but I looked on work as work and that way kept my head screwed on — at least for a while.
As soon as we were dropped off at the Albany Hotel I knew things were changing for the better.
How did I know this?
Simple really. Full length leather jacketed, jewellery-laden guys with bottle blondes on each arm don’t walk up to me every day and say ‘Welcome aboard son.’
I was ushered into the hotel lobby, whisked to the top floor and shown into a suitably plush suite. Martin and I were herded into one corner, handed a large whisky and told to chill.
I often wondered what was going through Martin’s head back then. Maybe you would know?
No?
Well time to move on.
Mr Leather dropped the blondes on a chair and flipped them a bottle of champagne and a couple of glasses. The girls were all fur coat and nae knickers but the way they got to work on the champagne showed they were no strangers to the good life.
Our driver lifted me by the elbow and led me to the next room where Mr Leather was stripping to a Saville Row suit and an outrageously out of date kipper tie.
He motioned for me to take a seat and the driver dropped another three fingers of malt into my glass.
‘Names don’t matter son,’ said Mr Leather. ‘You won’t see me again.’
He stood at the far end of the room and I noted that his hair seemed to have a life of its own. Expensive wig. A crap one but expensive. Add to that the way the fat round his waist failed to move with him and I suspected that a twenty-four hour Playtex was de rigueur for my new leather coated friend.
‘I’ll keep it short,’ he said. ‘Life’s changing. Small time gangs are on their way out. Think big, that’s the secret. This is nearly the eighties and we need to change. Take your Mr Read. Nice operator — until he pulled that diamond stunt. Wrong job, wrong place and no thought to the future. Hard to think that he expected us to let a million quids worth of ice just walk.’
A million and all I got was a lousy grand.
‘ Glasgow wasn’t high on the list for us but your Mr Read changed that. A bit of research and a bit of planning and here we are.’
He paused to sip at the beer he had just poured.
‘Anyway new management needs new personnel. Personnel with ambition and drive. Word goes you’re not half daft and a whizz at the old safes. So, we say to ourselves, we need someone with a bit of nonce and cool under pressure. You seem to fit the bill, so here’s the script. We set you up in an office. None too grand but nice — if you know where I’m coming from. We give you a contact and he passes on a few errands we need done. You help us out and we cut you in for five percent of the action.’
‘You’re going to need some help. I’m assuming that is why your friend is here. It’s up to you how you fund
