The mood in the house the following day was not exactly jolly. Moira had decided that the Kingston Kings should stay down in the cellar when they were off duty, but the thugs were restless and already bored with that. Instead, they were prowling around hunting for something to entertain them. Flintheart was furious when she came across a couple of them trying to break into her and Skinflint’s flat. And it came close to a full-scale fight when Carl discovered that someone had drunk a whole crate of beer that he and Kevin had hidden away for themselves.
Moira noticed none of this. She and Gordon had shut themselves in her office to make plans for that night’s arson attacks on Tarantello. The whole gang knew what they were up to, but no one said a word about it all day. Moira had forbidden any discussion of what was to happen and the Kingston Kings weren’t to be told anything until it was time to set off.
“I see… Why is that?” Kevin wondered. 375
Moira had looked extremely annoyed when she answered. “As long as the Kingston Kings have no idea what we are planning, there’s no way they can forewarn Tommy Tarantello. I have no intention of letting myself be betrayed again!”
I spent the whole of that day hoping that Bernie and I would be ordered to stand guard out on the street. Or in the railway marshalling yard. Either might provide me with an opportunity to escape. But luck wasn’t on my side.
Late that evening Moira summoned the gang to another meeting. The Kingston Kings were also present. They had just learnt that they were to join us in burning down various buildings across the city. None of them bothered to ask why—they were simply excited that a fun activity was being laid on for them.
Using a large street map of Glasgow, Gordon pointed out the pubs, restaurants, dance halls and bookmakers that were to be attacked. He also showed everyone the best ways to and from the different locations.
Skinflint had prepared a couple of dozen bottles filled with petrol, each of them with a rag tucked into the neck of the bottle. He called them fire bombs and found it hard to conceal his excitement when he was telling us how they worked. 376
“Light the rag and then throw the bottle through the window,” he said, smiling one of his most gruesome smiles. “When the bottle smashes, it sprays burning petrol all around and the fire spreads at lightning speed. Everything goes up in flames, everything…”
The Kingston King thugs cheered with delight and crowded round the bottles. No one wanted to miss out!
One of those standing closest to me did, however, clear his throat nervously. He wasn’t much more than a boy and, though he tried to make his voice sound tough, you could hear how uneasy he was.
“How do we know that there won’t be people inside?” he asked Gordon. “At the places we’re setting on fire, I mean.”
His question was met with roars of mocking laughter, but then Gordon said, “It’s Sunday night, lad. And, anyway, we won’t attack until after midnight, when everything is closed. There’s no reason why anyone should get burnt.”
The gangs were then split into four ‘assault groups’, with Gordon, Kevin, Carl and Skinflint each leading a group.
Bernie and I ended up in Carl’s group and our task was to set fire to a number of places of entertainment around Charing Cross Station. We were to start with a dance hall called the Locarno on Sauchiehall Street.
“It’s only fair that that miserable hole gets burned down!” 377one small, cross-eyed thug from the Kingston Kings exclaimed. “I must have asked at least five hundred dollies for a dance over the years and not one of them would dance with me!”
During the afternoon Carl, Kevin and Skinflint had got hold of get-away cars, so four stolen vehicles were now parked in the backyard. Along with the rest of Carl’s group, I had to squeeze into the windowless back of a small van. Carl and one of the Kingston Kings went in the front and we set off.
For the whole of that day the only thing in my head was finding a way to abscond. Now I was on tenterhooks, because an opportunity would present itself very soon!
My plan was a simple one. When the van stopped and the back doors opened, I would run as fast as I could. I was fairly sure that Carl and the rest of them wouldn’t bother to chase me, as they’d have their hands full lighting the necks of their bottle bombs.
We arrived after a short car journey. The van stopped and Carl opened the small hatch between us and the cab and looked through.
“Are you ready with your bottle bombs, boys?” he asked. 378
Everyone apart from Bernie and me nodded eagerly. We were the only ones who hadn’t been given bottles to light, instead we’d been equipped with an iron crowbar each and told to smash the glass in the foyer doors of the dance hall. That would make it easier for the others to hurl their bottle bombs into the building.
I heard the two of them in the driver’s cab get out and a few seconds later Gordon opened the back doors.
“Do what you’ve come to do!” he yelled.
Since everyone wanted to be first out, there was a good deal of elbowing and shoving. I fell on my face on the street, but quickly got back on my feet. We were right in the centre of Glasgow, on a wide, straight shopping street that was poorly lit by the misty light of gas lamps. I could see a tram in the distance. It was coming our way, but apart from that the street was deserted.
I dropped my iron crowbar, leant forward and started running in the direction I was facing: all that mattered at that moment was making my escape!
I hadn’t taken more than a few strides when a big, black car swerved out of a side street a little ahead of me and drove in my direction, engine roaring and rear tyres skidding.
The rear windows had been wound down and two men were leaning out. They appeared to be holding something in their hands… 379
Then we heard the chattering sound of tommy guns being fired.
“Back in the car, boys!” I heard Carl yell. “It’s an ambush! An ambush!”