— Yes I do, but –
— But that doesn’t bring those gadges back. I get it.
He gasps in fear as the plane levels out and the seat belt sign goes boing, and I rise to investigate the lower orders, leaving him to chew on the nightmare his trip has now become.
The economy portion of the plane is essentially a scheme in the sky. Spud is crammed into the window seat. Fuck me, that South Leith scruffbag literally does look like death warmed up. Mikey sits tensely next to him, while Euan is somnolent across the aisle in his grim and depressive thoughts. Amazing this world that we live in, where poking your cock in a hoor’s erse for ten minutes can wreck your life.
— How are the men? The real men, I roll my eyes, still in camply-cruising-at-thirty-thousand-feet mode, — the foot soliders, toughing it out back here in economy class?
— Dinnae you talk tae me! Spud shouts.
Da fellah Morphy won’t be after bein told, sure now he won’t. — I saved your bacon, ya daft muppet! Once again: it was you whae fucked up a simple task for that psychopath, Syme. And you, I snap at Forrester.
— Ah’m his –
— I know, his partner.
— That’s right, Forrester says defiantly.
— And how is it you git tae sit up in business class? Spud moans. — Ah’m the yin that’s sick!
Mikey, and even Euan, breaking out of Tranceville across the aisle, look at me in accusation.
— Eh, because I paid for an upgrade? Under normal circumstances I’d be delighted to spring a biz-class ticket for you boys, but the cost was prohibitive. I couldn’t put it through the company account, as you are not employees of Colleagues. I pause. — The taxman’s hackles would have been raised and I don’t want an audit from those fucking cocksuckers at HMRC right now, thank you. Besides, I look to Mikey, — as Vic Slime’s distinguished partner I would have thought you’d be joining me with the Kate Winslets, Miguel.
Forrester has to eat that one in silence.
I go back to biz class and the queen formerly known as flamboyant still frets in stricken silence. As this broken pansy is now of little interest to me, I opt to chat to the hostess, the one who brought the drinks. Thought I detected that spunky edge of shagger’s glint in her eye. I get a little flirty with Jenny, eventually asking her if she thinks there’s any call for a male escort agency like Colleagues, for travelling women like her. She says it certainly has possibilities, and we swap contact details. Time passes nicely, even if Jenny is forced to bunk off occasionally, to attend to the morose business bores I have to share this compartment with. Then we get an announcement that we’re landing in fifteen minutes. So I quickly head back down to steerage where I reckon it’s time to tell Spud the good news.
Mr Murphy is zoned out. His head, leaking from rheumy eyes, snottery nose and slavering gob, rests on the shoulder of an uncomfortable-looking Forrester. I gently shake him awake, and he jumps with a start. — Daniel, mein burden, I’m afraid to say that we haven’t been quite straight with you.
Spud blinks awake and gapes at me in confusion. — What… what dae ye mean…?
I look to Euan, he and Forrester both tensing in grim concern, as I hunker down in the aisle. Then I turn back to Spud. — Call it poetic licence, deployed in order to keep the patient in a strong frame of mind, and gain his cooperation in expediting our task.
— What… he touches his wound, — what did you dae?
— We didn’t take your kidney. We aren’t butchers.
Spud rubbernecks to Euan, who confirms, — You still have two kidneys.
— But… but what am ah daein here? What are wi gaun tae Berlin fir? What’s that wound meant tae be fir?!
His high, yelping voice incites a few heads on the plane to turn to us. I glance at Mikey and then Euan, leaning forward, whispering, — You see it wisnae what we took oot ay ye, it was what we had tae put in.
— What?
— Skag: several kilos of uncut pharmaceutical heroin. I swivel round. A fat cow who was all ears seems to have returned to her knitting. — Apparently there is a bit of a drought in Berlin right now. Something tae dae wi a big bust.
— You put skag in me? Spud gasps in disbelief, and then looks to Euan. He lurches to me but Mikey pulls him firmly back into the seat.
My brother-in-law can’t look at him.
— See when we land, ah’m gaun straight hame –
— Suit yourself, bud, but I wouldn’t recommend that course of action, I stress, scanning the locale and edging closer again. — Your body fluids will soon break down the latex bags and discharge the auld Salisbury Crag right intae your system. What a way tae go though! There was once a time we’d have thought ay that as a result! And… Toto is still in Syme’s hands, mind?
Spud sits back, bug-eyed and open-mouthed, taking in the horror and impotence of his situation. I feel sorry for him. He was foolish to take this job, daft to bring along the dog and crazy to leave it unsupervised and underfed with the goods. The punishment, however, as it always is for those who suffer from the disease of poverty, is very excessive. — How could you dae that? he squeals at Euan. — You’re a fuckin doaktir! He lunges across the aisle and swings at my bro-in-law, swiping air.
Mikey grabs him and pulls him back into the seat. — Chill, Spud, you’ll burst the fuckin stitches!
The knitting munter glances from us to her shite jumper, in order to ensure that this comment doesn’t apply to her. The completed garment will go to a poor nephew or niece, securing them ritual playground beatings for retardedness.
— This isn’t my fault! Euan pleads.
I beg with Spud to see sense. — Do you think we wanted this mess? Syme literally had a gun to our heads, Danny. You’ve witnessed how he operates at first hand. He was going to kill us all, our fucking family members, and every cunt we ever sat beside on the 22 bus! Get real!
Mikey turns away. — Business partner, he mutters, in a self-denying plea.
— But this is… it’s aw wrong, and fuck me if ma auld mate poor Danny Murphy fae Leith disnae start tae fucking greet, here on the plane. — It’s jist aw-aw wrong!
I have my arm round those pieces of bone they call shoulders. — It is, bro, it is, but we can sort it…
— Aye, it is, but whae dragged us intae this mess by fucking up a simple delivery? Mikey suddenly barks, turning tae his broken travelling companion. — Me n Sick Boy ur jist tryin tae fix the mess!
— Speak for yourself, I tell him, — I’m being blackmailed. Threatened. Forced into this fucking nightmare, by your business partner.
Mikey slumps down in a wee sulk.
— And you try to rectify this… by blackmailing me, Euan hisses.
The stewardess, not the lovely Jenny I was chatting tae, but a low-rent, pleb-serving, varicose-veined battleaxe, bike-rode into decrepitude over decades by the few hetero pilots, without even a hint of a sparkler thrown into the mix, is right over, her crabbit pus rammed into my coupon. — Please, take your seat! We are about to begin our descent!
I comply, thinking that my descent started a long time ago, when I was stupid enough to come back tae fucking Edinburgh for Christmas. That crazy Marianne bitch! I resolve tae pay her back with fucking interest!
Tis a relief to be on the ground, and more so for the squawking queen who is haranguing airport officials about his dogs, as we head out to the taxi rank. In the cab I try to make light of things by telling the tale of the buftie and his labradoodles, but this backfires, only reminding Spud of Toto. — If he hurts that dug, ah’ll kill him, ah’ll no care! Spud bleats. I do believe Murphy would actually try to do this.