Uniform didn’t know what to do. Walked out, leaving the bucket behind him.
Inside a minute two gut-huge inspectors appeared. They took an arm each and dragged me out the door.
Together they said, ‘Walk.’
They took me to another cell. Table and chairs, camera in the corner.
‘Sit.’
‘Don’t mind if I do.’ I knew they were the real deal. I also knew I’d already been through the worst. From here on in, we got down to the meat and potatoes.
‘Gus Dury,’ said the heavier of the two, Markies shirt, Farah trousers and a Freddie Mercury tache.
‘That’s what they call me.’
‘Lose the fucking attitude.’
I leaned forward, said, ‘Lose the fucking tone, you’ve nothing on me. Whereas I’ve a delightful tale of police brutality to splash over the papers tomorrow.’
They both laughed. Looked at each other, I expected back slapping.
‘Who’d print anything from a piss-wet old soak like you, Dury?’
The second doughnut-muncher stood up. He looked about five-eight in his comfortable Clarks shoes that squeaked on every step. ‘We have a stack of witnesses to your resisting arrest, Mr Dury. I’d recommend you cooperate, it’s to your advantage.’
‘Christ almighty. Spare me the good cop bad cop routine, eh?’
Silence. Then: ‘Cigarette?’ said Clarks shoes.
‘Silk Cut?’
‘I’m cutting back.’
‘Have you no real fags?’
The pack went down. I picked out a tab, the cop lit me up.
‘Like a breath of fresh air,’ I said.
‘That’s how I’m hoping this, shall we say advice, will greet you, Mr Dury.’
‘Come again?’
‘Stay away from Mr Zalinskas.’
‘Am I hearing right?’
The cop with the tache leaned forward, banged on the table. ‘I’m warning you, you’ll take this-’
‘Is that what you say to your men friends? You charmer.’
He had to be held back after that, it was like Hill Street Blues all over.
‘Mr Dury, I’d take my partner’s advice.’
‘Partner, so that’s how it is. Tell me this, I’ve always wondered, is it better to give than to receive?’
Moustache got out his seat again, managed to land a slap on my face. ‘You cheeky pup, I’ll hang you the fuck out to dry, do you hear me?’
‘Reg, Reg… control yourself.’
‘Och, I’m fucking through with this.’
‘Reg…’
He headed for the door. ‘Dury, I swear to Christ, you’ll be in the Forth if I hear your name in the same breath as Benny Zalinskas’ again.’
He left.
‘Excitable chap your partner.’
‘I wouldn’t treat his advice so glibly. Mr Zalinskas is a very influential person in this city.’
‘With both criminals and the police, I see.’
‘Mr Dury, please…’
‘Please? Fuck off. What’s he got on you? Some pictures of you two fags in flagrante delicto?’
A shake of the head. ‘I can see you’re going to cause us some trouble, Mr Dury. I’m very sorry to hear that.’
‘Oh, I bet you are.’
‘I’m prepared to ignore your actions on this occasion. Put them down to, shall we say, misplaced chutzpah.’
I laughed.
‘But, I can assure you, if we have cause to speak again, you will regret it — most assuredly you will.’
42
I spent the next twenty-four hours in a cell. When they let me go I got handed a polythene bag holding my watch, wallet, phone and some change.
Guy on the front desk said, ‘That’ll be you off to get hammered.’
I’d never seen him before. ‘What?’
‘The booze is oozing out of you.’ He shook his head, slammed closed the black diary he’d been writing in, said, ‘Fucking alkies.’
On the way out the door, I started to shiver. My mouth felt like an open wound. Missing teeth catching the cold air of morning. I had managed a hundred yards when I heard my name spoken under breath.
‘Gus — Gus, over here,’ was called out from a dark vennel along from the police station.
I looked about. I wasn’t keen to venture into more trouble.
‘Gus, come here, would ya?’
I recognised the voice this time. Tried to make it look casual as I walked into the narrow street.
‘Christ, Fitz, this is a bit close to home for you, isn’t it?’
‘I had to grab you.’
‘Why? What’s wrong with the caff?’
‘Why do you think? You’re a marked man, Dury. By the Christ, aren’t ye ever!’
I let out a sigh. ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’
Fitz eyeballed me. ‘Jaysus, they did some job on ye boyo. Was Rambo, no doubt.’
‘What?’
‘London fellah. Built like a brick shithouse. He came up here about six months ago, playing the Big I Am, so he was. No one was afraid of him, mind. Christ, haven’t we Celts been sending them home to think again for long enough?’
‘Yeah, sounds like him.’
‘Ah, he’s a gobshite, I wouldn’t sweat over him.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Arrah, I wouldn’t give the likes of him the steam off my piss.’
I saw Fitz had a personal animus for this cop, but knew he hadn’t pulled me up to have a wee office bitch. ‘Fitz, did you have something for me?’
‘Have I ever.’
‘Well, let’s hear it.’
‘I’ve done a bit of digging about, like you said I should.’
‘And?’
‘You were right. If vice are interested in Benny Zalinskas, I’ve started taking it up the Gary Glitter.’
‘So someone was feeding you a cover story. Who?’
‘Not so fast, Dury. Remind me why I should tell you anything?’
I had Fitz on side, that much seemed clear. But it didn’t mean he wouldn’t make me work for any information he had.
‘Because, Fitz, when this blows, you’re the main beneficiary and you know it,’ I said. ‘I won’t bullshit you about being a good cop and doing right. Fuck, I know you’re as bad as the rest. This is your chance to settle some old scores. Think of all those bastards who laughed at you when you hit the slide. Give me the name behind this and
