PART III

Hardened

McCluskey gathered intelligence about gangs in Strathclyde and found that there were 170 of them, with 3,500 members aged from about 11 to 23. She talked to trauma surgeons such as Christine Goodall, who revealed that two thirds of slashings were going unreported to the police. Victims were afraid of reprisals from the gangs – the notorious wall of silence.

The reality was shocking: a serious facial injury every six hours and 300 attempted murders a year.

Gavin Knight, Telegraph, discussing Karyn McCluskey, co-founder of the Violence Reduction Unit

Gardening Leave

The thick blue smoke ae a joint winds its way fae the glowin red cherry, hits ma motor’s roof n splits n spreads. The Subaru is sittin on the corner n Danny’s inside it wae him. He’s meetin McIntire the night, this time wae the correct amount, on time. We’re on the verge ae the Toi’s scheme. Wit Danny cannae see is that wae every gram n ounce he’s descendin deeper n becomin more indebted, a special pal. Danny wid feel trusted – a good mate tae Marcus McIntire. Soon McIntire wull be able tae ask him tae dae anyhin or take anyhin. Danny wull dae it in fear ae offence n simply cos he’s got himself in a position that he cannae say naw. These kind ae relationships quickly become like the eld Faustian pact.

A’m starin in the rear-view mirror n Kenzie is keepin the edge oot the side windaes n the front. Danny’s left a lock-back blade lyin on ma passenger seat in full view. A fuckin hate when people leave shit like that lyin in the motor. It’s nuhin tae them but should a fuckin nosey polis stick their beak through the windae, it’s me left holdin the bag. A never carried a blade, honest, Mr Sheriff. Six month stuck right up yir arse, a serious record n condemned tae this miserable world forever.

‘Fuck sake, Kenzie! Yees always rip the pure pish oot this!’

‘Mate, McIntire likes tae tell yi who he’s smashed recently. The list kin take a while.’

Marcus bounces oot the motor n is carryin three big terracotta-coloured plastic pots, poorly covered by bin bags. A glance towards Kenzie n raise ma eyebrows. He’s seen it anaw. When the plants git too big in a grow, yi need tae transfer them intae a bigger pot n try no tae shock them too much. Basic fuckin horticulture. They’re outdoor-sized pots, aboot a foot n a half deep n the same squared at the top. If yi wurnae a keen gardener, yi wur up tae suhin dodgy. Somehow Marcus McIntire doesnae strike us as a Beechgrove Garden type.

‘Aye, bet a few cunts wid love tae know where they’re dain that.’

‘Mate, who the fuck wid be stupid enough tae rip them aff?’ A ask.

‘Plenty cunts.’

Danny bounces oot anaw n comes joggin back over tae the motor. He’s git his hands up under his jumper tryin tae hide witever he’s just acquired. A see McIntire over his shoulder, comin oot wae another two heads. Danny opens the door n jumps in the passenger seat. A’m shakin ma heed at him.