‘Strachan even has that planned to the last detaiclass="underline" we come in the Ibrox gate because Strachan knows exactly who’s on duty at what gate and when. God knows how, but he did. We get in and we drive up the main boulevard of the exhibition. I can’t tell you how weird it was … all of these futuristic buildings and fountains and towers. It was like pulling a job in ancient fucking Egypt or on Mars. Anyway, there’s nobody there now except staff and they’re beginning to leave. We turn into the avenue that leads to the amusement park restaurant and park up, tucked in the shadow of the Palace of Engineering, where we have a clear view of the main drag. We kill the lights and wait. Strachan balaclavas up like the rest of us and, right on time, the security van comes up the main boulevard, heading for the exhibition bank office.
We wait till it makes the pick-up and is on its way back, then Strachan pulls out and blocks the way and we’re out and got the van surrounded. The security men inside are shocked but not too worried, because they’re inside an armoured car, until Strachan shows them that he has a grenade in each hand. He tells them to get out of the van or he’ll start rolling pineapples under it. They know that the van’s not armoured underneath, and even if it doesn’t kill them, they’re going to lose legs or balls or both, so they get out. The Lad gives the driver a hiding, really quick but really thorough, just to prove we mean business, and the other guy opens up the goodies for us. We’ve got the armoured car open and the cash sack transferred to our van all inside fifty seconds, just as Strachan timed it.
‘Then this copper turns up. He’s just a kid in a uniform that’s too big for him, but he comes running over with his truncheon in his hand. I mean, I’ve got a sawn- off, Murphy’s got a sawn-off, Johnnie Bentley’s got a Lee-Enfield rifle and Strachan and the Lad have both got army revolvers. And this kid comes running up clutching fifteen inches of fucking wood. So Strachan shoots him. One shot, right in the forehead. No warning. No shouting for the copper to stop. Fuck all. Then Strachan turns back to us as if nothing’s happened and tells us to get in the van.
We do what we’re told but we see Strachan and the Lad over by the security car men, who we’ve got spread-eagled on the ground. They tell the security men that they’ll have to kill them because of what they’ve seen and take aim at their heads. It’s all show, but the security men believe it and us sitting in the van believe it because of what we’ve just seen. Strachan says he’ll let them live, but if he hears that they’ve told the police anything useful, they’ll be getting a visit. Ten minutes later we’ve dumped the van, transferred the cash into the back of Strachan’s car, and we’re dropped, one at a time, at different places in the city. I end up in the Gallowgate, stuffing my balaclava into my pocket and standing completely fucking dazed, wondering if what happened really happened.’
‘What did you do?’
‘The only thing I could think to do, and it was totally against Strachan’s orders to lie low: I went to the pub where Johnnie Bentley had arranged our first meeting, hoping that the others would have the same idea.’
‘And had they?’
‘Aye. If a copper had come in he would have sussed us right away. Four of us as white as fucking sheets, whispering to each other and looking as if we already had an appointment with an executioner. We talked as well as we could. This really changed everything. Strachan had put a noose around our necks and the only way we could dodge the drop in Duke Street would be to turn King’s Evidence. Now we all knew that Strachan would have worked that out too, so we had no choice. We either went straight to Saint Andrew’s Square and spilled our guts, meaning we’d dodge the hangman but spend thirty years each in the Bar-L, or we kill Strachan and his psycho Lad.’
‘So no choice, in other words.’
‘Instead of turning up at the usual intervals, we all go to the meet at the Railplane a full hour ahead of schedule, and together. We don’t have the weapons we had for the robbery ’cause Strachan was supposed to dump them in the Clyde after we split up, but Johnnie has a Great War Luger that he brings along and I have my own sawn-off. Strachan turns up half an hour after us and we get the drop on him. But there’s no money with him. We’ve got him at gunpoint and the bastard just laughs at us. He tells us that he knew we’d try to pull this so he’s stashed the cash where no one knows about it except him. Stalemate. Johnnie tells Strachan that he’s going to torture him, shoot his balls off one at a time, but Strachan knows we’re not made of the same as him. He could do that kind of thing, but not us. We’re fucked. We can’t kill Strachan because if we do, we’ll never get the money and, anyways, we’re all a bit squeamish about committing murder and Strachan knows that. The bastard knows everything.
‘So we’re just standing there shouting at each other ’cause no bastard knows what to do next when we realize that the Lad’ll be there at any moment. So Johnnie, who’s kind of taken everything over, sends me out with the shotgun to wait for him arriving. No squeamishness about killing now. We all know that the apprentice is an even greater danger than the master, if you know what I mean, so I’m ready to blow the fucker’s head off if he turns up. So I’m outside and don’t know what the fuck is happening in the hangar and by now it’s getting dark and there are no lights at the site. I’m standing there in the dark with the Bennie Railplane above me and only four shells for the shotgun.
‘I see the shape of someone coming my way from the main road. More of a silhouette than anything else but I can tell from his build that it’s the Lad. But I have to wait till he gets really close. A sawn-off is useless at anything more than a few feet. He’s still far too far away when all hell breaks loose inside the hangar. There are a whole load of shots fired and Johnnie and Ronnie come running out, shouting for me to make a run for it. Johnnie’s shouting “He’s dead, he’s fucking dead”, but I don’t know if he’s talking about Strachan or Mike Murphy. The Lad starts running away too and I chase, firing one barrel at a time, but just for show because there’s no way I could hit him, but I guess he’s unarmed and I don’t want the bastard coming after me.
‘End of story? Four men run off in opposite directions, never to meet again, without a penny from the robbery in their pockets. Three of them are going to have to keep running. Who’s dead in the Railplane hangar? It could be Joe Strachan, it could be Mike Murphy, it could be both. All I know is that years later I read that Johnnie Bentley and then Ronnie McCoy meet with tragic accidents.’
‘You never saw them again?’
‘Naw. We all did a disappearing act. I even used a fake name for a while, but after a time I thought it was safe and, anyway, I met the wife and had to get married under my legal name. But I never heard another word from the others and I didn’t go looking for them, so I’m stuck not knowing if it was Strachan or Mike who’d been killed.’
‘The body …’ I said. ‘Surely the police found a body?’
Provan shook his head. ‘Not that I heard about. And believe me, I checked. Every day, all the papers.’
We both fell silent for a moment.
‘And where did you get the money for this?’ I gestured vaguely to indicate the bungalow we sat in.
‘I pulled a few jobs on my own. A couple in Glasgow and a few in Edinburgh. I’d learned a lot from Gentleman Joe and I decided that all of my jobs would be big takes. Strachan always said that robbing fifty quid carries the same risk as fifty thousand. When I had enough to keep me going, I gave the business up. Went straight. Even got a job for appearances’ sake and actually did well for myself.’