Craig Russell - The Deep Dark Sleep

‘But one of the other guys slips me a note. It’s got the address of a pub in Maryhill and a day and a time we’re to meet. Strachan is such a twisted bastard that I worry that it’s a set-up to test our loyalty or security or God knows what. But I go along anyway. I stand in the pub like a fucking lemon because I’ve got no idea what he looks like and he’s got no idea what I look like. I’m just about to leave when this bloke comes up and asks if I’m Mr Fox. I say I am and he tells me that he’s Mr Bear. Turns out he’s Johnnie Bentley. He tells me that he gave the same note to Mr Wolf and Mr Tiger, but he can’t tell if either of them are there yet.

Half an hour later we goes up to this fella sitting on his own nursing a pint. Right enough it’s Mike Murphy. Ronnie McCoy sees the three of us together and works out we’re his furry workmates. We leave the pub and sit in the bus stance for two hours talking everything through. Turns out that the other two have the same thoughts I did and reckon that we’re going to get shafted by Strachan and the Lad.’

‘So you decide to do some shafting yourself?’ I asked.

‘Not there and then, but we meet four or five times after that. We had to be careful because there was no way of knowing if Strachan had his Lad following us. Christ knows we would never have been able to recognize the bastard. Anyway, we agree that after the Exhibition Robbery, we’ll deal with the pair of them. Problem is that we have no idea when and where we’re supposed to meet to split up the cash, but we guess it’s going to be the Bennie Railplane, so we agree that, whatever time we’re given by Strachan, we’ll all turn up, tooled-up, fifteen minutes earlier.

To start with, we agree that if we can just make sure that we get our fair share, as Strachan promised we would, we’ll leave it at that. But we have to see the Lad’s face so’s we know who to be looking over our shoulders for. But then Johnnie Bentley says about the gamekeeper and how there’s no chance that Strachan or his masked monkey will let us get away with holding them up. So eventually we agree that we have to kill them both. It was a big step. Not one of us was a life-taker, not like them other two, and it would be murder. You hang for murder. Anyway, it all became academic after what Strachan does during the robbery.’

‘The copper?’

Provan nodded. ‘Strachan only gives us the full details on the day of the Exhibition job. Nothing’s last-minute though, somehow he’s been able to train us up, to prepare us for it in bits. Like a jigsaw puzzle. Then everything comes together when he tells us how it’s going to go down. The bastard was good, I have to give him that. If he hadn’t been a villain, he’d have made a good general.’

I decided not to tell Provan about the supposed sighting of Strachan in officer garb during the war.

‘The only fly in the ointment is that he tells us on the day of the robbery that we’re to split up after the robbery and stay low for a week, then we meet up at the Railplane. So we’re sitting in the back of the van, masked up and tooled up, but we can’t arrange to meet to discuss our next move, because the Lad is sitting right there next to us. We arrive at the Exhibition site at Bellahouston, just when it’s closing. It’s a Saturday night so the Exhibition is closed the next day and the armoured car will be picking up the whole week’s banked takings. We go in through the entrance opposite Ibrox Stadium. Strachan’s driving and he tells the gateman that he’s got an urgent delivery for Colville’s Steel, who had a pavilion. There’s a bit of argy-bargy and we hear Strachan tell the gateman that that’s fine if he isn’t going to let him in, it’s no skin off his nose but he’ll need a note of his name because Colville’s are going to go spare. The gateman’s an old codger with bottle-bottom glasses and although he’s looking straight at Strachan, he can’t give a description later.

‘Strachan even has that planned to the last detail: we come in the Ibrox gate because Strachan knows exactly who’s on duty at what gate and when. God knows how, but he did. We get in and we drive up the main boulevard of the exhibition. I can’t tell you how weird it was … all of these futuristic buildings and fountains and towers. It was like pulling a job in ancient fucking Egypt or on Mars. Anyway, there’s nobody there now except staff and they’re beginning to leave. We turn into the avenue that leads to the amusement park restaurant and park up, tucked in the shadow of the Palace of Engineering, where we have a clear view of the main drag. We kill the lights and wait. Strachan balaclavas up like the rest of us and, right on time, the security van comes up the main boulevard, heading for the exhibition bank office.

We wait till it makes the pick-up and is on its way back, then Strachan pulls out and blocks the way and we’re out and got the van surrounded. The security men inside are shocked but not too worried, because they’re inside an armoured car, until Strachan shows them that he has a grenade in each hand. He tells them to get out of the van or he’ll start rolling pineapples under it. They know that the van’s not armoured underneath, and even if it doesn’t kill them, they’re going to lose legs or balls or both, so they get out. The Lad gives the driver a hiding, really quick but really thorough, just to prove we mean business, and the other guy opens up the goodies for us. We’ve got the armoured car open and the cash sack transferred to our van all inside fifty seconds, just as Strachan timed it.

‘Then this copper turns up. He’s just a kid in a uniform that’s too big for him, but he comes running over with his truncheon in his hand. I mean, I’ve got a sawn- off, Murphy’s got a sawn-off, Johnnie Bentley’s got a Lee-Enfield rifle and Strachan and the Lad have both got army revolvers. And this kid comes running up clutching fifteen inches of fucking wood. So Strachan shoots him. One shot, right in the forehead. No warning. No shouting for the copper to stop. Fuck all. Then Strachan turns back to us as if nothing’s happened and tells us to get in the van.

We do what we’re told but we see Strachan and the Lad over by the security car men, who we’ve got spread-eagled on the ground. They tell the security men that they’ll have to kill them because of what they’ve seen and take aim at their heads. It’s all show, but the security men believe it and us sitting in the van believe it because of what we’ve just seen. Strachan says he’ll let them live, but if he hears that they’ve told the police anything useful, they’ll be getting a visit. Ten minutes later we’ve dumped the van, transferred the cash into the back of Strachan’s car, and we’re dropped, one at a time, at different places in the city. I end up in the Gallowgate, stuffing my balaclava into my pocket and standing completely fucking dazed, wondering if what happened really happened.’

‘What did you do?’

‘The only thing I could think to do, and it was totally against Strachan’s orders to lie low: I went to the pub where Johnnie Bentley had arranged our first meeting, hoping that the others would have the same idea.’

‘And had they?’

‘Aye. If a copper had come in he would have sussed us right away. Four of us as white as fucking sheets, whispering to each other and looking as if we already had an appointment with an executioner. We talked as well as we could. This really changed everything. Strachan had put a noose around our necks and the only way we could dodge the drop in Duke Street would be to turn King’s Evidence. Now we all knew that Strachan would have worked that out too, so we had no choice. We either went straight to Saint Andrew’s Square and spilled our guts, meaning we’d dodge the hangman but spend thirty years each in the Bar-L, or we kill Strachan and his psycho Lad.’