The Silver Arrow Read online

  “Simon Epstein?” Swansea asked, getting an affirmative nod fae the brief.

  “With regards to corroboration, if what the girls have said is factual, there are now three clear corroborating references that prove Johnboy Taylor was not in the bank that day.”

  “Three?”

  “The well-known underworld gangster, Danny Murphy and the Paisley police inspector, the death bed statement by this Sandy ‘Halfwit’ Murray, believed to have been recorded by Paddy McPhee in his service notebook and the inmate currently serving time in Dumfries for the murder of the young Stirlingshire girl, who apparently overheard Tony Gucci and the other boys imply that Johnboy was not in the bank. Of course, we really only require two definitive corroborative statements that will be able to withstand a robust challenge,” The Brief reminded Swansea.

  “Talking of which?”

  “Silas Abraham’s other client, James Baxter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, I think the serious risk to the girls requires us to keep this recent sensitive information in-house for the time being. We can bring Silas into the frame later if required. It stands to reason that if we can prove, without a shadow of a doubt, that the corroborative evidence is solid, then the outcome of the evidence will certainly impact on Silas’s client, Baxter, positively…but, we may not actually need to use the statement made by the schoolgirl killer. As I’ve already said, we really only require the corroboration of two independent witness statements. The problem is whether those esteemed law lords in Edinburgh would accept the word of a notorious gangster like Danny Murphy. The key witness for the time being has to be the disgraced Paisley inspector.”

  “And the disappearance and possible demise of the older Murphy brother, Shaun?”

  “Yes, we all know what they say about no smoke without fire. The Crown would almost certainly use that to demolish our argument and paint a negative picture of Johnboy Taylor’s character. There would need to be a solid alibi there that can stand up to aggressive challenge and scrutiny on what Johnboy Taylor was doing on the night Shaun Murphy disappeared. I must admit, Swansea, the more I think about this, the more I want to bury my head in the sand,” the brief admitted, smiling.

  “So, where does that leave us?”

  “Oh, I think it would be fair to say that our lives could be in danger as well. Look at who the key players are here. What would the impact be if all of this became public? Whether Johnboy Taylor did or did not shoot Shaun Murphy, there would be serious health implications from his brother, Danny or One-bob Brown and his associates. You can see why Johnboy is urging caution.”

  Silence.

  “To successfully challenge and overturn this conviction, what is it that we require, that we would deem as A-plus evidence?” Swansea asked.

  “Well, we already have two signed statements from the girls and Abraham Silas’s client, the schoolgirl killer. Given who they are, particularly the obvious close relationship between Taylor and Senga Jackson, this could inadvertently prejudice any statements made by her. Access to Paddy McPhee’s service pocket notebook, which would almost certainly be robustly denied to us by the police and the Crown in equal measure, would be a crucial element of our argument for a retrial. We would need a signed statement from this Paisley inspector, identifying the exact time and location he supposedly handed over the information that was supplied to The Glasgow Echo. A rock solid alibi as to where Johnboy Taylor was on the night Shaun Murphy disappeared would be another crucial piece of the jigsaw. The Crown would use every means at their considerable disposal to undermine Johnboy Taylor’s character by establishing involvement in other serious crimes,” the brief said, smiling grimly.

  “Is that all?” Swansea asked, showing the first sign that there wis a sense a humour lurking behind that ragged featured face, as he uttered a wee chuckle.

  “Johnboy’s right. Simon Epstein could be crucial in gathering evidence. However, the only one of The Mankys I would fully trust for this purpose is the accused himself. I’ve known all the boys for years, and although they can come across as being quite friendly and civil, they wouldn’t hesitate for one moment to use tactics out with the bounds of what we would call acceptable behaviour. Of all the boys currently not in prison, Simon Epstein, along with Jake McAlpine, would probably be the last people I would wish to be involved in seeking out corroborating evidence. Oh, don’t get me wrong…Simon is very loyal, clever and could charm the hind legs off a donkey, but he has an almost psychopathic side to him that can erupt without the slightest provocation. In fact, come to think of it, those sentiments could probably apply to most of them,” The Brief said, as him and Swansea smiled at each other. “In different circumstances, they would, in all probability, have had successful careers in whatever profession they chose…other than crime. I hate to admit it, but given the safety implications and the people involved, we’ll have to trust Johnboy’s instincts here. That means you having to work closely with Simon Epstein, but restricting your activity to desk research. I think you’re best placed as a conduit, for the time being, until we see how this pans out. I’m still extremely concerned about the tactics that Simon or the other Mankys may apply in the gathering of evidence. It must be made absolutely crystal clear to him that although we welcome his assistance with precognition work, we cannot tolerate, under any circumstances, any illegal activity that may undermine the case of Johnboy Taylor, as well as the company as a whole. Have I made myself clear, Swansea?”

  “Got you, boyo.”

  “In the meantime, I’ll put together a synopsis for when Stuart McKenzie gets back from the States. I think the wider political ramifications could be explosive, if our friends down in Central are sitting on evidence that disproves the Crown’s case against a young man sent to prison for a long period of time and the possible suppression of critical evidence that has allowed unsolved murders to drop off the radar without being thoroughly investigated.”

  Chapter Five

  “Here’s to you, boyo,” Swansea said, taking a healthy gulp ae his pint ae Eighty Bob in The Horseshoe Bar in Drury Lane.

  “Cheers,” Simon nodded, reciprocating wae his glass ae orange juice.

  It wis jist efter five and the punters fae the shoaps and offices in the toon wur arriving tae catch a pint oan the way hame. It wis a good place fur a confab, Simon thought tae himsel. It wisnae quiet enough fur them tae be overheard, and a well-known tea-leaf like himsel, meeting an easily identifiable precognition officer, fae a well-known criminal law firm in the toon, widnae raise any eyebrows fae snoopers, sniffing aboot, looking tae unearth a bit ae gossip.

  “So, how did the lassies dae?”

  “Oh, fine, fine. The Jackson lass is certainly the stronger of the two. She’d do well up on any witness stand under pressure. The other one would need careful handling, though.”

  “So, whit dae ye think then?” Simon asked him, as Swansea’s eyebrows lifted, in the throes ae hivving another gulp fae his pint glass.

  “It’s not bad…not Double Dragon, but it’ll do,” he replied, swiping a wodge ae froth fae that big moustache ae his wae the back ae his haun.

  “C’mone, ye know whit Ah mean, Swansea.”

  “It’s dangerous. There’s a lot that could go wrong, not to mention serious health hazards for anyone privy to what these two nurses have unearthed…including for those in the legal profession,” Swansea added as a wee reminder.

  “Aye, well, we won’t be trying tae negotiate a discount, if that’s whit ye’re hinting at. And anyway, Ah thought somewan like you liked a wee bit ae a challenge?” Simon chided him, smiling.

  “Graham’s worried that you, or some of the other boyos, will compromise the case,” Swansea said tentatively, watching tae see whit kind ae a reaction he goat.

  “Is he noo?”

  “Yes. He agrees that having you involved is a good thing, given the players involved and the serious implications, should word get out that we’re on to something. His concern is more to do with ho
w you obtain clarification or access information to strengthen the case for us to move for an appeal…if you get my drift?”

  “The decision tae delegate me tae act oan behauf ae Johnboy wae the likes ae yersels wisnae taken lightly. There wis other people such as Jake McAlpine, Peter Paterson or Ben McCalumn, tae name bit a few, who could’ve been asked tae dae it, bit Ah goat the pleasure. If ye’re saying everything needs tae be above board, then ye kin rest assured that it will be. We might be a bit oan the shady side, bit we’re no daft. The important thing here is tae gather credible evidence that’ll eventually lead tae Johnboy Taylor’s early release, while keeping they lassies safe, at the same time.”

  “Can I ask you a question, boyo…a sensitive question?”

  “Fire away.”

  “Now, don’t take this the wrong way, but if you were to choose the order of priority between Johnboy being freed and the girls’ safety, which would you choose?”

  Silence.

  “Getting Johnboy oot is the number wan priority, bit no because ae whit you might think. The general feeling is that we’re oan borrowed time. It’ll only be a matter ae time before Wan-bob or The Stalker picks up that it wis Lizzie Mathieson that wis oan duty that night up in Stobhill. If that happens we’ll be lucky tae save either ae them, although we’ve put thegither a wee back-up plan tae try and prevent that fae happening. In the meantime, oor priority is tae strengthen whit we’ve goat before the shit hits the fan. Dis that answer yer question?”

  “Is there any way the girls can be moved to a different location…to another area of the city, perhaps?”

  “Naw, we’ve deliberately kept them in the dark fur their ain good. Ye’ve met them. There’s no way they’d agree tae move withoot being telt why. And anyway, there’s naewhere in the city that they’d be safe wance the word went oot tae find them. The best we kin dae is tae get whitever Graham needs, as soon as possible. That’ll be oor tap priority.”

  “I see,” Swansea murmured, feeling a shudder go up his spine.

  He wis glad he’d goat the question oot ae the way, and wisnae surprised by the response. He’d known, or should that be, he’d hid professional involvement wae maist ae Tony Gucci’s young gang members fur a number ae years noo. Tae look at them, wan could be excused fur thinking that they looked jist like any ae the other well-dressed young thugs that queued up in Graham Portoy’s front reception, until ye sat up close tae them, observed and listened tae them argue and put forward the rationale behind their thinking. They didnae come across as braggarts, bit oozed a confidence that made everywan in the firm, particularly the younger female staff, fall o’er themselves tae work wae them. Swansea wisnae too sure how truthful the rumours wur…the stories ae whit they goat up tae…their use ae extreme and some wid say, murderous violence against people who crossed them. They always came across as charming and accommodating, especially the wan sitting across fae him, wae no a hint ae the potential fur violence that everywan hid them marked doon fur. Despite the fact that hauf ae them wur currently serving time, he’d been surprised at their rapid rise intae the upper echelons ae the criminal fraternity and the world ae legitimate business enterprise. He’d worked in some ae the toughest cities in Britain, such as Cardiff, Manchester, Liverpool and London. Tae survive and thrive in a place like Glesga, wae whit The Mankys goat up tae at their age, wis nothing short ae a miracle. Tae Graham, they wur jist his boys, bit tae Swansea, they wur heiding fur the big time and everything that came wae it…or tae an early grave. Whitever it wis, Swansea wanted tae be part ae that journey. He knew fine well that maist ae the precognition officers scattered throughoot the city wid gie their left eye tae be sitting where he wis sitting. He’d furgotten the number ae times he’d been approached by aw the tap law firms in the city, offering him big money, bit he’d stayed where he wis…and anyway, none hid offered whit he wis earning, working fur Graham Portoy.

  “So, whit dae ye need, Swansea?”

  “Well, first of all, I need you to sign this chitty, boyo. It’ll give you some legal protection, should the boys in blue want to know why you’re going around asking questions on things that aren’t supposed to be the business of a layman. It should also protect any evidence that you may gather up or at least, allow us to get back, if our friends down in Central attempt to confiscate it.”

  “Nice wan,” Simon acknowledged, grinning, as he signed the sheet ae paper. “Dis that mean Ah kin tell them tae fuck aff because Ah’m oan legal business?”

  “Up to a point, it does. As long as what you’re doing isn’t breaking the law…although, from my experience in this city, telling right from wrong holds no currency with the local constabulary.”

  “So?” Simon reminded him.

  “How correct is the Mathieson girl’s supposition that the deaths of the farmer, doctor and the young nurse are connected?”

  “Ah’d say it wis guaranteed.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Swansea, take it fae me,” Simon replied, looking him in the eye. “She hid it, spot oan, although Ah’m seeking oot confirmation fae other sources, as we speak.”

  “I see.”

  “Which means we cannae go snooping aboot in there alerting Wan-bob or The Stalker. Ye’ll jist hiv tae leave that wan tae me.”

  “The Stalker’s service notebook?”

  “Ah’m working oan that.”

  “Graham has asked you to give that a miss.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, although it’s crucial and may provide the evidence to prove Johnboy’s innocence…”

  “And The Stalker’s collusion oan haudin back key evidence.”

  “…we can only use the contents of it in court if we obtain it through the proper legal channels.”

  “Carry oan.”

  “We can easily find out who the inspector is that passed on the corruption information to The Glasgow Echo, but we need to ascertain if he would be willing to, er, corroborate that it was Johnboy that he passed the information on to, on the same day as the bank was being robbed up in Maryhill.”

  “We’d need tae go caw-canny oan that wan, so we wid. Ah suspect that wid need tae be sanctioned through Wan-bob. Any approach tae the inspector wid open up a big can ae worms…and put the lassies bang in the middle ae the spotlight where we don’t want them tae be.”

  “Why?”

  “Swansea, take it fae me, that’s dangerous territory, so it is.”

  “Graham wishes to know why Johnboy didn’t use the fact that he was in Paisley at the same time as the bank was being robbed. That part of the statement from Senga Jackson came as a shock.”

  “He wis oot at the Rangers Social Club in Linwood…no Paisley. The inspector wis based in Gilmour Street Polis Station in Paisley, jist alang the road fae the train station. And the reason fur no using the evidence is the same answer as Ah’ve jist gied ye. It wis too dangerous,” Simon replied, trying tae change the subject.

  “But why?”

  “Leave it at that, Swansea.”

  “Simon, whatever you say to me isn’t under sub judice in law, therefore wouldn’t affect Johnboy’s future appeal case in a court of law. Even if I did repeat it, it would be my word against yours.”

  “And probably yer last.”

  “Pardon?”

  “The reason Johnboy didnae say anything wis because ae who the driver ae the car wis.”

  “Danny Murphy.”

  “The files they wur picking up wur exposing polis corruption oan the south side ae the city. Nothing that wis being haunded o’er hid anything in it that wid’ve implicated or impacted oan The Big Man’s territory.”

  “So?”

  “So, the south side ae the Clyde is ruled by The McGregor Clan. When the shit hit the newspapers aboot the corruption, it didnae only affect the bizzies. Aw backhanding networks The McGregors hid built up o’er the year’s wae the corrupt bizzies wur blown oot ae the water. Kin ye imagine the reaction there wid’ve been if it hid goat oot that The Big Man
, Pat Molloy, through that right-haun man ae his, Wan-bob Broon, wis behind it?” Simon replied, laughing. “Christ, there wid’ve been rivers ae blood pouring doon the streets. Glesga widnae hiv seen anything like it.”

  “Oh, I see,” Swansea said, nodding, the penny drapping.

  “So, that’s why ye cannae approach this ex-inspector. Tony will address that when he gets oot.”

  “Are you aware of a chap called Robert Connor?” Swansea asked, keen tae change the subject.

  “Naw, should Ah be?”

  “He’s an inmate down in Dumfries Young Offenders Institution.”

  “So?”

  “He’s serving life for the murder of a young schoolgirl in a small village called Cambusbarron in Stirlingshire. Apparently, he overheard a conversation between Johnboy and Tony Gucci, Samuel Smith, William Johnston and Pat McCabe whilst they were all in solitary confinement down in Dumfries. Seemingly, the conversation makes it clear that Johnboy wasn’t in the bank on the day that it was robbed,” Swansea said, explaining the background tae Silas Abraham’s approach by Robert Connor’s ma, and the possibility ae his client, Jimmy Baxter, being able tae ride oan the back ae Johnboy’s claim fur a retrial.

  “Ah knew aboot Baxter’s nine year sentence fur the bank. Talk aboot being unlucky, eh? And this beast…he’s signed a statement, his he?”

  “Yes, in exchange for legal representation to fight for an appeal. Have you come across Mr Abraham?”

  “Aye, Ah widnae use him tae wipe that arse ae mine, never mind represent me.”

  “That good, eh?” Swansea said wae a straight face, as the baith ae them smiled.

  “Ah’m still no sure whit ye’re getting at, Swansea?”

  “Even though we may not have to use the signed statement by this schoolgirl killer, Silas Abraham fears that if anything happens to him…should he be killed for example…his signed statement on its own, may not be enough to withstand a challenge from the Crown, particularly regarding our client, Johnboy and his other client, Jimmy Baxter. For some reason, Mr Abraham believes that…er…you…The Mankys…wouldn’t wish further harm on jeopardising Jimmy Baxter’s fight for freedom.”