At first I didn’t understand what Tommy Tarantello meant when he shouted across to us. Gordon and Simmons also looked confused. The first to put two and two together was Moira. She snatched the shotgun from Simmons’s hand and pointed its double barrel at his chest.
“So it was you!” she snarled through clenched teeth. “You were the one who told Tarantello where the meeting was to be held!”
Simmons’s mouth fell open in amazement.
“But Moira… Moira,” he stammered and put up his hands. “This… I don’t understand… It’s just not true!”
“Don’t even try!” Moira hissed. “We all heard Tarantello thanking you.”
Simmons shook his head vigorously.
“But I’ve never met the man before!”
Moira’s finger tightened on the trigger of the shotgun. 346Simmons’s face had turned a deathly white and he was having trouble breathing.
“Ma’am… dear lady… you have to believe me. It wasn’t me.”
“Keep quiet!” Moira roared. “I need to think.”
She stared at Simmons and her face grew darker and darker. When she spoke again, her voice was shaking with suppressed rage.
“And this wasn’t the first time, was it?” she said.
Simmons swallowed hard.
“What do you mean?” he asked in a desperate voice. “I don’t understand.”
Moira’s grip on the shotgun tightened as she aimed its two barrels straight at Simmons’s face.
“Oh yes you do,” she continued. “You were the one who grassed to Tommy Tarantello that it was us who stole the Greek’s safe. You were there with us that night, weren’t you?”
Simmons sat open-mouthed, staring mesmerized at the twin barrels of the gun.
“No, no…” he said in a hoarse, broken voice. “I didn’t… I swear…”
“Don’t lie to me!” Moira yelled. “It was you the whole time! You, you vile traitor, you!”
Gordon cautiously placed a hand on Moira’s shoulder and it was that touch, perhaps, that calmed her enough to stop 347her shooting. Slowly, her hands trembling, she put the gun down.
When her breathing had returned to something like normal, she said to Simmons, “Carl and Kevin will beat the truth out of you. They’re good at that kind of thing, I can tell you. And then they’ll take you on one last outing—down to the Twilight Quay.”
The last trace of colour disappeared from Simmons’s face.
The trip back to Glasgow from the Black Cart is without any doubt the worst voyage I’ve ever made. Not even the sinking of the Hudson Queen on the River Agiere was as horrible as this.
Skipper Simmons steered the launch at gunpoint—both his own shotgun and Gordon’s revolver were pointing at him. There was terror in his eyes.
I remembered what Florenza had said to me in the marshalling yard: “I give you my word that Moira won’t find out that you are the one who passed the information to us. My uncle will make sure of that…”
I had a bitter taste in my mouth and I felt sick. Tarantello had tricked Moira into believing that Simmons was the traitor. And he had done it for me—to keep Florenza’s promise to me. 348
The night breeze blowing in from the sea had freshened and we had the rising tide with us, so the launch made good time up the River Clyde. Once we’d passed the lock gates for Govan Graving Docks, I could see the buildings along the Broomielaw and the bridges that crossed the river. We’d soon be there.
I have to do something to help Simmons! But what? What can I do?
Out in front of us, a ferry had just left its slip on the south side of the river. It was one of those twin-decked ferries that carry cars, people and horses across the river. Simmons needed to swerve to one side or the other if he wanted to avoid collision with the ferry.
But he didn’t. He stayed on the same course.
I turned and looked at Simmons. He still looked terror-stricken, but I could see something else in his face too. Determination: he was clenching his teeth as if steeling himself for something. But for what?
I looked at the ferry again. The distance had shrunk to a hundred or so yards and we were still on a collision course. Neither Moira nor Gordon had noticed the danger since they were sitting facing the stern with their weapons pointing at Simmons.
The ferry was getting closer second by second. What was Simmons intending to do? 349
When the ferry was only a stone’s throw or two from us, a tremendous roar rolled across the water. The ferry’s skipper was signalling with his foghorn for us to move out of his way.
The loud noise made both Moira and Gordon jump with surprise and they both looked over their shoulders. At that moment the ferry turned on its searchlights, aiming the sharp, dazzling lights straight at us.
For several seconds I thought we were going to collide with the ferry. I held my breath and felt fear coursing through my veins. But then, just a second or so later, we passed under the bow of the ferry with no more than seven or eight feet to spare.
The engines roared as the skipper of the ferry threw his engines into reverse. And in the beam of the searchlight I caught a brief glimpse of something in the whirling waters of the ferry’s wash.
It was Simmons.
He must have leapt into the river just as the searchlights came on.
And now he was flailing his arms to keep himself afloat.
Moira leapt to her feet with an oath and attempted to aim her shotgun at Simmons. But she never managed to fire a shot—she was distracted by a horrific scream that drowned out all the noise around us. 350
Bernie, as usual, had been sitting hunched up and on his own throughout the trip. But now, head in hands, he’d risen to his knees and was staring wide-eyed into the darkness looking for Simmons. His huge body was shaking uncontrollably. When his lungs ran out of air, the heart-rending scream fell silent, but as soon as he’d gathered his breath, he began to scream again. I had never heard anything like it before.
Moira leapt to her feet, cursing with rage. She went over to Bernie and punched him with all her strength.
“Cut that racket, you bloody idiot!” she yelled.
But Bernie did not stop until Moira had pummelled his face with a dozen or more resounding blows. Then he sank down and began to weep with long, wailing sobs.
By then we were approaching the quay below the house in Oswald Street. Gordon had taken the rudder and was trying to work out how to cut the speed of the launch. He was no seaman, and he obviously knew nothing at all about steam engines. When Moira screamed at him to do something, he panicked and began pushing and pulling at every lever and control he could reach. That was no help, of course. Quite the reverse. It increased the revs and Gordon had to push the rudder right over to starboard to prevent us running straight into the quay.
None of the gang knew I was an experienced engineer. 351I hadn’t had any reason to reveal it to them earlier, but now there was no choice. If we collided with the quay or hit the stonework of one of the bridges, it would end in disaster.
While Gordon swung the boat back out into the river, I stepped forward to the engine controls and cut the steam. The launch slowed down, and when Gordon made another attempt to pull alongside, I put the engine into reverse. In no time, we were lying at rest by the quay.
Gordon gave me a long, surprised look. Moira, on the other hand, paid no attention at all to the revelation of my ability to handle an engine. She was furious and just wanted to get ashore as soon as possible. In spite of that, when she had to squeeze past Bernie who was cowering on the planking, she couldn’t resist giving him a kick.
“Get up! And stop snivelling!” she snarled. “If Simmons drowned, it was only what he deserved. Just like that damned Shetland Jack!”
Then Moira climbed the ladder to the quayside and, with hunched shoulders and fists clenched in rage, she walked quickly to her house.
I helped Bernie to his feet. His eyes were wide with dumb terror.
352A little later I crawled in under the bedcovers in my cellar. Gordon had organized a new guard rota and it would be my turn to guard the Oswald Street entrance along with Bernie in a couple of hours. I needed what little sleep I could get.
However much I twisted and turned on the mattress, I found it impossible to go to sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about Skipper Simmons and wondering whether the crew of the ferry had managed to pull him from the water. Or was he now at the bottom of the river?
And what was it Moira had said to Bernie?
Had I heard wrong? Or had she really mentioned the name of Shetland Jack?