2007 - A tale etched in blood and hard black pencel (38 page)

“I think he’s smart enough to realise there’s nothing to gain but suspicion by withholding information that the polis are going to find out anyway. He was knocked sideways by us turning up with the DVD, but he regrouped. Only really lost it around the subject of his wife.”

“Understandably so.”

“More understandably than you know, Tom.”

“How’s that?”

“He said it himself: guys like Turner always see a bigger picture. If Turner’s shakedown of Temple had all worked out, McGeechy would still be in the same boat. Instead of Colin Temple dangling the DVD over him, it would be Johnny Turner. That’s an even worse prospect if you ask me, because unlike Temple, Turner would have nothing to fear by way of legal comeback if he deployed his ‘zero option’, because
he
didnae make the recording. Plus, as he also said, there’d never be any way of accounting for all the copies. Until now, all we’ve had are reasons why Turner and Temple might want rid of each other. Now we’ve got somebody whose problems would be solved if he could get rid of both. Somebody who knew they were meeting up and would therefore be conveniently in the same place at the same time.”

“He didn’t know where or when they were meeting, though.”

“No,” Karen corrects. “He never
said
he knew those things. Big difference.”

“True. So what’s the script with the wife?”

“He lost it when he was talking about her, which was understandable, as you said. But once he calmed down, it struck me that he seemed more rattled than ever.”

“Scared he’d given something away while his emotions had the better of him? But you cooled everything down at that point. Why didn’t you keep the pressure on?”

“I did, in a way. I asked him his wife’s name. And I had to ask several times before he would give me it. Anna Logue.”

“You know her? Knew her?”

“Knew the name, knew the face. As McGeechy said, she was a couple of years below us, so I was only aware of her because she was the cousin of somebody in my class.”

“Who?”

“James Doon.”

§

“Time we went for a single fish,” Noodsy says.

“I’ve just been two minutes ago,” says Turbo.

“I know, ya daft bastart. I mean it’s time we
went
.”

Another Madness single has just finished;
Baggy Trousers
this time. Noodsy made a pest of himself to the DJ until he caved in and played it just to get rid of him. Daft bugger would have no idea that getting a record played was just a fringe benefit. Making a pest of himself was the true point of the exercise. Same as doing that wee routine that made Mr Kerr laugh. It was about getting noticed, about giving the impression they were busy having the time of their lives.

Noodsy has learnt a lot about impressions. He’s learnt the hard way about how the folk in charge only need a wee bit of information in order to make up their minds, and how no amount of contradictory evidence will then change them.

“Aye, awright,” Turbo agrees, though he’s not exactly jumping at the prospect.

He’s been a bit funny about the whole thing. Noodsy reckons it’s mainly to do with the mood he’s in after the glue carry-on, but there’s other stuff as well. He’s definitely not happy about Boma and Joe being involved, even less so that it was Noodsy’s idea to talk to them, but he didn’t see how else they could make it work. There are weird vibes in that house between those brothers, so there are. They give Turbo a right fucking hard time, but that’s why Noodsy thought he’d be happier for the chance to get on the right side of them.

To be fair, he did spring this on Turbo kind of at the last minute, but Noodsy wasn’t sure himself whether he would go through with it. If Boma and Joe hadn’t been home when he went round to Turbo’s bit, Noodsy would have said nothing, probably. Just kept the idea for another time, or forgot about it altogether.

It’s kind of weird, it being Noodsy who’s had to chivvy Turbo along, considering it was Turbo who got Noodsy started on knocking stuff. He remembers that first time at the Paki shop on a Saturday afternoon in Second Year. He was starving, they both were, neither of them due in for their tea for ages. He was always hungry these days. Must be because of growing. Turbo only had enough money for a packet of Polo Mints, while Noodsy never had a bean. Turbo said he’d buy the mints as a distraction while Noodsy knocked some chocolate. He said no at first. He was shiting it about getting caught, but more because of his maw finding out than about the shopkeeper or the polis. Maw was always going on about honesty, how low it was to steal stuff. And Noodsy agreed. But he was branded a thief on his first day at primary school, and he’s been picking up the blame for shite ever since. Nobody ever listened, they all made up their minds.
Vee-lan. Bawd igg. James Doon! What are you doing rummaging about in there?
So if he was taking the shite for it anyway, he might as well get a free fucking Ritter Sport for his troubles. Honesty had got him fuck-all.

They leave the dinner hall and go up the stairs, then hang about in the corridor for a wee minute to make sure nobody’s coming, before going right outside. The school’s built on a slope, so it’s on three levels, but all the main entrances are in the middle tier, apart from fire exits. The staff aren’t daft enough to be wanting dozens of unsupervised weans stoating about the place on a Friday night, so they’ve locked the big barrier doors that cut across the main inside thoroughfare. This cuts off access to most of the classrooms, including the whole of the top floor. On the mid-level, the staircase down to the dining hall is open, obviously, plus there’s access to the First and Second Year bogs and cloakrooms. You can get to the Third-to-Sixth-Year bogs and social area through the fire doors, but the lights are off and there’s a paper sign taped to the wall saying: “Out of Bounds!”

They’ve been playing these daft games for ages, about knocking stupid stuff from the classrooms. It’s pish-easy, but it’s useless as well, which got Noodsy to thinking there must be some more valuable gear worth libbing from the place. Then, as luck would have it, his RE class got taken to the lecture theatre to watch some minging film about abortion, and that’s when he realised: same as burglars when they tanned your house, the top merchandise to go after was the video. Or, in this case, two videos, and both VHS as well.

Noodsy doesn’t have a video any more. They used to have a Betamax on rental, but it had to go back after his da got laid off again. He’d love to knock one from the school and bring it home, but you can’t see his maw and da believing him if he said he just found it, eh? Naw. Especially when it’s going to be all over the town that the school’s machines got tanned. Kind of hard to get home with one under your arm and not get noticed, too. All of which is why he needed to bring in Boma and Joe. Noodsy reckons he can get the machines out of the building, but he needs somebody to move them after that, move them in more ways than one.

Noodsy leads the way round the back, along the outside wall, until they get to their science classroom, and a window that’s had more traffic through it recently than half the corridors. That’s what Noodsy was busy with this afternoon—while Turbo was farting about with a clamp-stand and some bawsack was planking glue in Turbo’s bag—undoing the window lock at the top, then wedging a wee bit of a broken ruler between the frame and the sill. The windows are meant to be locked when they’re closed, but the teachers and the janny are only liable to check if they notice one still open. That’s why Noodsy’s only opened it enough to get the ruler through and no more. It’s enough, though. The ruler’s still in place and the window’s not locked.

They wait there a wee minute until they see the motor: Joe’s pal Benzy’s Allegro. It pulls up on the back road that goes past the school, just trees and fields along it, and no houses. The headlights flash, then go off altogether.

Right.

They’re both giggling a wee bit as they climb in. Turbo’s looking a lot more into it now, which is not surprising, because it’s some buzz. Better than anything he could’ve hoped for off the glue, that’s for sure. It’s like being nervous and really excited at the same time. His heart’s pounding, his stomach’s burling but he can’t keep the smile off his face. There’s a wee moment of concern as they approach the door, in case it’s been locked from the outside, but it opens no bother. Come to think of it, the only doors Noodsy’s ever seen the staff locking up with keys are the tuck shop and the school offices, in both cases because there’s money sometimes kept there.

It’s right weird walking through the place with nobody about and the lights off. The corridor’s practically pitch dark, with just a wee glimmer of the exterior lighting coming through glass panels in some of the classroom doors. They go upstairs to the top level, and it gets a bit brighter as they approach the gallery. This is the bit that looks down into the big social area. The overhead fluorescents are off down there, but there are two storeys of tall windows to let in the orange glow from the school yard and the car park. The lecture theatre’s at the end of this, after it becomes a closed corridor again. Noodsy and Turbo have been whispering to each other up to this point, but now they have to zip it altogether. They’re getting close to the corridors that are open downstairs, plus there’s only an unlocked fire door separating those from the social area.

They walk on the soft soles of their trainers; it’s definitely not a night for Docs. They’re just about all the way across the gallery bit when somebody makes a moaning noise and Noodsy nearly jumps over the railing. He turns and looks at Turbo, and he can tell he shat it as well. Then they take a careful look over the side at what’s below.

There’s two folk sitting in one of the big window-alcoves, their legs dangling over the brickwork, their top halves merged in the shadows. Noodsy holds his breath, feart any noise will make them look up, but after a second or so he realises he could be playing a mouth organ and they’d still not notice, as they’re too wrapped up in getting off with each other.

It’s Temps and Eleanor. Aye, called that one right. They’re kissing away, and that dirty bastard Tempo’s feeling one of her tits.

Noodsy turns to see Turbo’s expression, so’s they can have a quiet wee laugh, but he looks all serious. Could be jealous, Noodsy supposes. It’s a laugh to be watching, but he knows he’d prefer to be the one doing it. Not that either of them fancies Eleanor, but who wouldn’t want a feel of a nice pair of diddies?

Aw, here we go, check this. Temps’s hand goes down to her thigh for a wee minute, then he tries to slip it under her skirt, but she pushes it away. He plonks it back on her tit instead, then starts kissing her neck. She puts her heid back and Noodsy panics for a second, till he sees that her eyes are closed. Then the hand goes for the legs again, and this time it’s a different story. She even shifts in her seat so she can hitch her skirt up a wee bit, and opens her legs as Tempo’s hand disappears out of sight.

Noodsy nearly hurdles the barrier again when Turbo taps him on the shoulder. He looks even more serious, pissed off in fact. Then Noodsy remembers: he’ll not want to keep Boma and Joe waiting. Plus, the quicker they’re back on the dance floor, the tighter their alibi. Noodsy reluctantly pulls himself away from the spectacle and follows Turbo to the lecture theatre. It’s safe to turn on the lights because there are no windows in here. When he does, he sees that they’re a video short. There’s one that sits on a trolley, underneath a portable telly, and the whole shebang is away somewhere. It’ll be in one of the classrooms, but they’ve no time to start searching. It would take all fucking night. The other video’s there, but. It’s a big, heavy bastard of a thing, and not exactly state-of-the-art. Right enough, he can remember it sitting there since First Year, probably the first video he ever watched anything on, so it must have been an early model. Still works fine, but, and that’s the main issue. It’ll be less of a pay-out, just tanning the one machine, but on the plus side, it takes the both of them to carry this fucking thing, so maybe coming back for the other one would have been a risk too far.

It takes them no time to get back to the science block, because their eyes are more used to the dark, plus there was no waiting around spying on Temps and Eleanor. They could still hear them as they passed, right enough, loads of slurping and heavy breathing. Lucky bastard, getting to feel her fanny and everything. Bet Temps wouldn’t have gone near it a couple of years back, but.

They go back into their science class, where Joe and Boma are already waiting at the window.

“It’s just the wan,” Turbo says as they approach. “The other yin wasnae there.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Boma grunts, looking all angry.

“Better than nothin,” says Joe, leaning in over the worktop. “Gie us it oot.”

“Hing on,” Noodsy says, and lowers his side of the video to the floor so that Turbo has to do the same.

“Whit ye daein?” Turbo and Joe both ask.

“Money first,” says Noodsy. He’s heard Turbo talk enough about his brothers to know if they don’t get paid before they hand over the goods, then they’ll never see a penny.

“We’ve got to flog it first,” says Joe.

“Aye, and you’ll get a sight more than you’re payin me, so cough up or this stays where it is.”

“Watch your mooth or I’ll come in there an leather ye, ya wee cunt,” warns Boma.

“Shut up, Boma,” says Joe. “Naw, fair dos,” he tells Noodsy. “Here’s twenty.” He holds up two tenners.

“It was fifty for the pair. Hauf ay fifty’s twenty-five.”

“Cannae fault your arithmetic, son, but twenty’s all you’re gettin. Take it or leave it.”

Noodsy takes it, handing a tenner to Turbo, then they pass out the video. It’s better than nothing, but a tenner still seems a shite return for his grand plan.

They watch Boma and Joe run towards the fence, Benzy getting out the car to help. Turbo climbs on to the worktop, readying to climb out the window, but Noodsy stays where he is.

“You comin, well?” Turbo asks.

“I want to see if there’s anythin else worth havin afore we go—”

“Aye, right enough.” Turbo nods. “Need to be quick, but.”