Chapter 15: ups and downs

Gavin pulled the door of the apartment building closed behind him and almost ran to the van. He knew it was a mistake to bring Lizzie back here and he had been proven right. The van was moving before he even realised what he was doing and he shook his head to clear it and focus on the road. A quick glance told him where he was and he grinned to himself. His subconscious had steered him in the direction of the Parkhead area of Glasgow and Gavin knew why.

The third drug house he had scoped out was situated on the busy Shettleston Road and Gavin knew his current mood was edging him towards attacking it. That realisation started the adrenaline flowing and helped wipe out all thoughts about Lizzie and what he had left behind in the apartment. There was only the immediate future to worry about, the immediate future and some criminals who had a date with destiny.

Twenty minutes later, he parked the van just off of Edinburgh Road and backtracked to a point where he could watch the pusher. It didn't take him long to pick up on the fact that the pusher now had a pair of minders, sitting in a car parked twenty yards further up the road. Gavin knew that it wouldn't be a good idea to take out the pusher as he had done with the other two drug hits. He wasn't too concerned about that, as using the pusher and the supply car wouldn't be such a big help in taking down the house he was going after now. It wouldn't make much difference to just to miss out the pusher and go directly for the house itself.

A further ten minutes of careful navigation brought him to the street that paralleled Shettleston Road to the rear of the house he was targeting. The house was actually two houses that had been converted into one, two former council houses that dated from the 1960s. Gavin knew he couldn't approach from the front, as the garden space in front of the property had all been cleared away so there was absolutely no cover. That was the reason he was on East Wellington Street, so he could head towards the house from the rear.

He had already spent quite a few hours simply watching the house over the past months so he knew exactly how he was going to approach it. Gavin slipped down the side of a house on East Wellington Street and entered its back garden. Silently, he pulled himself up onto the roof of the garden shed that butted onto the fence separating this house from the one he was interested in.

Gavin flattened himself on the shed roof and remained absolutely still apart from his eyes, which were alert and scanning constantly for any threats. He waited ten minutes before he felt it was safe to move.

It was at this point that Gavin's luck ran out. The drug house was owned by the Turnbull clan and they had taken precautions to safeguard it after learning about the hits in Bearsden and Darnley. Additional gang members had been stationed at the house for some weeks now to protect the money, drugs and personnel in it.

One of the gang members was stationed in the garden of the property, inside another garden shed on the other side of the fence Gavin was now lowering himself over. After weeks of boring sentry duty, the man had become complacent and had in fact fallen asleep at his post. Although Gavin didn't make any noise, some sense woke the sentry up and he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

Rousing himself, the gang member lifted the revolver that sat ready beside him and made for the door of the shed. The fact that he was still a little drowsy from his nap probably saved Gavin's life. He moved clumsily and Gavin heard the noise from the shed immediately.

"Fuck! I've blown it! Gavin thought.

He changed direction in one fluid motion and headed back for the fence as fast as he could. By the time the gang member managed to get the door of the shed open, Gavin was already hauling himself over the fence. There was time for one hurried shot and Gavin felt a stinging sensation in his side as he tumbled over the fence.

The adrenaline was still flooding Gavin's system and the danger leant him added speed. He sprinted down East Wellington Street, dragging off his ski mask and heading in the direction of London Road. A glance over his shoulder told him that there was no immediate pursuit and two turns brought him back to the van.

Gavin had the door open in double quick time and pulled the van away from the kerb. A left and then a right brought him onto London Road and he passed Celtic Park, home of Celtic Football Club. His first priority was to get away from the area just in case the police were called, a possibility given the noise of the gunshot.

That thought reminded Gavin of the pain in his side and he dropped his left hand to feel along his ribs on his right side. The touch made him flinch and when he raised his hand again he saw that it was covered in fresh red blood.

He passed the Gallowgate and turned up Glasgow High Street and then into Castle Street. Gavin felt his head beginning to spin and he found it difficult to keep his eyes focussed on the road. With the immediate danger past, he was becoming more aware of just how painful the wound in his side was. He guessed he was losing a lot of blood and knew he wouldn't be able to make it back to the apartment before he blacked out.

Pulling off of the main road, he navigated to a quiet back street. Looking up, he saw it was St Mungo Avenue and he took that as a good omen. He stopped the van and clambered over the seat and into the back. There was a dust cover there and Gavin used it to try and stem the flow of blood while he pulled out his mobile phone. He hit the speed dial button for Fiona's number and heard her answer.

"Hi," she said.

"Fi, it's me. I've ... I've been shot. I've lost too ... much ... blood to be able to drive safely. I'm sorry to drag you into this again, but I've got nowhere else to go. Can you help me ... please?"

He heard Fiona squeal and then tell someone that he had been shot. Gavin mentally kicked himself for not checking that she was alone before saying anything. He assumed his mother or father or both were now also aware of his situation - Fiona wouldn't tell anyone else.

Fiona's voice returned to his phone.

"Where are you?" she asked, her voice high-pitched, displaying her panic.

"You need to calm down, sis. I'm parked-up in a place called St Mungo Avenue; it's not far from the High Street. Somebody needs to come and get me."

"Sit tight, bro, we're on the way."

The call came into the local London Road police station - a report of what sounded like a gunshot in the vicinity of a well-known gang house on Shettleston Road. The house was a bugbear for local residents and often led them to call out the local force.

Despite the report suggesting that a gun had been fired, it was a normal marked patrol car that responded to the call, not an armed response unit. That most probably reflected the number of call-outs that had been answered in the past in relation to the house, all of which had come to nothing.

The occupants of the converted house on Shettleston Road pleaded ignorance to any gunshots and suggested it had probably been a car backfiring. Needless to say, the police were not invited inside. The two officers weren't surprised and returned to their car, driving next to the house where the call-out had originated.

Both of the constables walked up the path to the house on East Wellington Street and the front door opened as they approached.

"Good evening, sir. Would you be Eric Campbell?"

"That's right officer," the man replied.

"I believe you called-in an incident this evening, sir?"

"Yes, I heard a noise at the back - a kind of popping noise - and when I looked out of the kitchen window I saw a man running through my back garden."

Mr Campbell led the two officers round the side of his house and into the back garden.

"What made you think it was a gunshot sir?" one of the officers asked.

"Well it was kind of dark, but the figure ran through the light coming from the kitchen window and he was wearing a ski mask. I immediately thought of the vigilante - he's the one that's been attacking the criminals isn't he and that house over there is certainly full of them!"

The mention of the ski mask sparked an immediate reaction from the officers. Everyone on the force was well versed in the details of the vigilante by now.

"Exactly how long ago was this, sir?"

"About forty minutes or so," Campbell replied.

One of the officers walked off a few paces and used his radio to contact the station.

"Did you see which direction this man took after he ran through your garden?" the other officer asked.

"Aye, he headed down that way, towards London Road."

The two officers conferred, one sharing the instructions he had received from the station, the other the detail of which direction their suspect had headed in.

"Okay Mr Campbell, I have to ask you not to allow anyone into the garden until we can get somebody here to examine it. I have to stress that there could be important evidence there and we can't have people trampling all over it. Do you understand, sir?"

Fraser Gilchrist was safely indoors for the night, watching a re-run of Blazing Saddles on TV. He loved this film and had watched it countless times, but he never tired of it. The film had just reached one of his favourite scenes...

"Oh Lord, have we the strength to carry out this mighty task in one night, or are we just jerking off?"

... said the preacher on the screen. At that moment, Fraser's mobile rang. He picked it up off of the table and thumbed the button to answer the call.

"Hello?"

"Is that you, Gilchrist?" boomed Shanks Turnbull's voice.

"Aye, it's me Shanks. To what do I owe the pleasure of a late night call from you?" asked Fraser.

"I think this fucking vigilante just tried to hit one of my houses!" replied Turnbull.

Fraser forgot all about the film and focussed his attention on the call.

"What do you mean - tried?"

"I've doubled-up the security around all my places and one of my men caught him sneaking over the back fence. My man got a shot off, but the bastard managed to get away. I don't know if he's been hit or not," Shanks explained.

"Okay, Shanks. Thanks for letting me know, I'll try and follow up on it," Fraser advised.

He ended the call and immediately contacted one of the Cullen sources within the police force. Fraser was advised that so far no news of another vigilante incident had made it through to the Stewart Street station.

"Well I want to know any details as soon as you get them!" Fraser demanded.

"Oh god, what am I going to do? I can't even drive!" Fiona wailed.

"I can drive," said Lizzie, "I'll come with you."

Fiona could see that the other girl was indeed very keen to help. Once again her obsession with Gavin was evident, now she was willingly putting herself in harms way to help him.

"Okay, okay. We need to get a taxi," Fiona said.

The apartment building was on Renfrew Street, only one street over from Sauchiehall Street and they knew they would be able to find a cab there. They locked up the building and ran down the hill to the busier street, finding a cab in less than a minute.

"Ah, St Mungo Avenue please," said Fiona.

"Where is that?" the driver asked.

"I think it's not far off of the High Street," Fiona replied.

The cab driver pulled into traffic and contacted his base to get more detailed directions.

"Okay, now I've got it."

The trip was only around four miles, but it took fifteen minutes through Glasgow's one-way system.

Fiona spotted the van as soon as they turned in to St Mungo's Avenue. By now she had calmed down a bit and was thinking clearly again. She let the cab pass the van and asked to be dropped off on the corner some forty yards away. The fare was seven pounds, twenty pence and she gave the driver a ten pound note.

Once the taxi had driven off, Fiona led Lizzie back down the street towards the van.

"Where are we going?" Lizzie asked.

"That's Gavin's van there, I don't know where he is, but that's his van," Fiona replied.

When they drew level with the van, Fiona could see that it was unlocked and the keys were in the ignition. She walked to the passenger side and opened the door to get in. Gavin's form was immediately obvious in the rear of the van and Fiona told Lizzie to get in and drive.

"Gavin! Gavin, are you okay?" Fiona demanded.

He groaned and lifted his head to see his sister. Turning his head he was surprised to see Lizzie behind the wheel. He knew now wasn't the time to ask questions.

"I'm okay, I'm okay sis. Just get me back to the apartment," he managed to get out.

Lizzie started the van and experimented with the manual gears, getting the feel for the bite point of the clutch. Once she was satisfied she had it covered, she checked her mirrors carefully and pulled away. Gavin couldn't help laughing as he recognised the signs of someone who had, like him, recently passed their driving test.

Ten minutes later Lizzie brought the van to a halt and Gavin looked up to see what was going on.

"There's a 24-hour pharmacy over there. I think we might need some supplies," Lizzie explained.

It was an anxious ten minutes for Fiona and Gavin waiting for Lizzie to return, but eventually they were on their way once more. The remainder of the journey back to St Mungo's Heights didn't take them long and Fiona was out of the van as soon as Lizzie parked. She wrenched open the back doors and leapt in to hold her brother.

"How bad is it?" she asked.

"I don't know, help me inside," Gavin replied.

He held the dust cover tightly to his side, as Fiona helped him down from the back of the van and gave support up the steps to the entranceway to the apartments. Lizzie carefully locked the van and brought up the rear, the carrier bag full of supplies from the pharmacy dangling from her right hand.

Fiona helped Gavin inside the apartment and through to one of the bedrooms. He sat down on the edge of the bed and then collapsed onto his back with a groan. Fiona gingerly took the dust cover and peeled it back to reveal the extent of his wound. She could feel herself struggling to cope with the sight of Gavin's blood and when the raw flesh of the wound was exposed, she felt physically sick.

"It's horrible, I think there's a bone sticking out, I just can't look at it," she cried.

"Let me see," demanded Lizzie, pushing Fiona aside.

Lizzie examined the wound carefully. There was a long furrow, perhaps four inches long and she could indeed see what she assumed was one of Gavin's ribs. She was fairly certain the bullet had just nicked him and a mark on the rib suggested that it might have ricocheted off of the bone.

"It's not too bad really, I think the bullet might have glanced off of your rib. That's the bone you can see Fiona - it's a rib," said Lizzie.

"How can you bear to look at it?" Fiona asked, her back still turned to the bed.

"After you've had a rapist sitting on your chest, with a knife at your throat, something like this is no problem," Lizzie replied, "I'm assuming you don't want to go to hospital with this Gavin?"

There was no reply and it became clear that Gavin had passed out. Lizzie decided that that was a blessing given what she had decided to do.

"Fiona could you boil a kettle and bring me some hot water please?" she asked.

"What are you going to do?" asked Fiona.

"I'm going to clean the wound and then stitch it," Lizzie replied, quite matter of fact.

Gavin might have been unlucky in one sense - in terms of his attack on the drug house failing and being shot. In another sense his luck held however. The possibility that there had been another vigilante attack wasn't passed on to DI MacIntosh.

A perfunctory search of his garden in the daylight had turned up nothing. Gavin had stayed to the pathways at all times and not a single blade of grass looked disturbed. The officers from the London Road police station determined Mr Campbell had in all likelihood introduced the idea of the vigilante as a way to try and get action taken against his criminal neighbours. As a result they wrote off his story and no further action was taken.

In turn that meant that there was no detailed forensic examination of Mr Campbell's property, an examination that would have turned up traces of Gavin's blood.

Since nothing was passed on to Drew, the Cullen clan's contacts inside the Stewart Street police station were unable to confirm the vigilante had been the one who had tried to hit the Shettleston Road drug house. Gavin's luck had held out after all.

Lizzie had applied a liberal coating of antiseptic before strapping the wound she had stitched. Fiona had also volunteered the information that she had a course of antibiotics at home that she had never finished, the prescription issued for a urinary infection she had suffered a number of months previously. Lizzie made Gavin take the Co-Amoxyclav tablets as a further precaution against infection.

The girls had also confined him to bed and if the truth be told, he knew he was too weak to be up and about. Simple paracetamol was all that he had to try and dull the pain from his wound, mostly from the rib that must have been hit by the bullet.

Lizzie had contacted one of the other students on Gavin's course and brought home notes from the classes he was missing. Gavin tried to stay on top of the notes, but found his tiredness meant that he was sleeping a lot more than normal.

Late on the second day after being wounded, he woke to feel the dull pain throbbing away as usual. He forced himself to swing his legs out of bed and shuffled over to the dresser where the paracetamol bottle was sitting. He opened the bottle and shook out two tablets, washing them down with a mouthful of water. He was about to shuffle back to the bed when he heard voices from the bedroom next door.

Intrigued, Gavin shuffled to the door and opened it before stepping into the hallway. The neighbouring bedroom was only a few feet away and he could hear Fiona's voice coming from it.

"Are you sure you're okay about doing this? I know I said that it was an idea that would reassure Gavin you wouldn't squeal on him, but given what you did the other night, I don't think that's necessary any longer," said Fiona.

"If it makes Gavin feel better then we should do it, now hurry up before I change my mind," replied Lizzie.

Gavin shuffled forward a few more feet. The door to the room wasn't fully closed and he could see through it. His view took in the mirror doors on the built-in wardrobes - but that in turn opened up most of the room on the other side of the door. He was stunned to see Fiona standing with her digital camera in her hand and Lizzie lying on the double bed.

"Surely she isn't going to do what I think she is? Surely Lizzie didn't just suggest that this was her idea? What the hell?" Gavin thought to himself.

"Okay, you know these have got to be pretty explicit, don't you?" Fiona asked.

"I know. Look, I'm not very experienced at this kind of thing - maybe you could suggest a few poses?" Lizzie responded.

Fiona's head was spinning. She had almost forgotten that Lizzie had indicated she would allow the pictures when they had been talking on the night Gavin was shot. When the other girl had brought it up again, her mouth went dry and her panties wet at the possibilities. Now, with her hot fantasy about to be played out in front of her, Fiona was shaking with anticipation.