Chapter 2: Tit for tat

"Who did it? WHO FUCKING DID IT?" screamed Rab 'the tram' Cullen.

His foot soldiers were all careful to avoid eye contact with their leader. They had experience of his towering rages and knew no one was safe if he decided to lash out.

Cullen had earned his nickname through his unique, evil and vicious method of scarring his victims. From the age of sixteen he had carried a Stanley knife - a razor sharp box cutter. What made Cullen different from many other knife-carrying youths in Glasgow's gang culture was the way he modified his weapon of choice. By fitting two blades to the box cutter, separated by the width of a broken piece of matchstick taped in place, the resulting wound was virtually impossible to stitch together neatly. The scars produced were truly horrific to see - like a tramline, and so the name Rab 'the tram' Cullen was born.

Probably borderline insane, Cullen ordered violence or carried it out himself as easily as breathing. His own men were just as likely to be the target of his easy aggression as anyone else was. As a result, only one of those in the room had the nerve to answer.

Fraser Gilchrist was the closest thing the clan had to an intellectual. Most of the members were brutal, cunning even, but he was a notch above them all. While not exactly book smart he was still very bright and could run rings round the others, even Cullen himself.

His normal role was in managing the flow of money around the organisation as well as laundering it when necessary.

"Our grasses don't know anything. If it was one of the other clans then no one is saying anything," Fraser said now.

"Well get out there and find out Gillie. I WANT ANSWERS! NO ONE FUCKS WITH ME AND GETS AWAY WITH IT. Somebody has to pay."

A heavy crystal glass went sailing across the room and exploded against the wall.

"Jimmy, get in here!" snarled Cullen.

A broad shouldered man of about 6'2" entered the room nervously. Despite having four inches on his boss he was no match for the ruthless clan head and he kept his eyes down.

"While the bean counter here finds out exactly who did this I want you to whack some of the opposition as a fucking warning."

"Boss, I don't think that's such a great idea," said Fraser.

"Who's fucking asking you? Get out of here and do what I told you!"

"Rab, you're going to start a turf war," Gilchrist warned, knowing he was pushing his luck with his already angry boss.

"It's maybe slipped past you but somebody else has already started a war ya smart prick. I'm gonna make sure I finish it but. Now, fuck off!" replied Cullen.

It was at times like these that Fraser thought his life really sucked. He had somehow drifted into the hardened world of gangland Glasgow, graduating from petty crime as a teenager and several short sentences in youth offender institutions. Violence was definitely not his thing and on the few occasions when he was dragged into it, when he saw it up close and personal, it sickened him and he questioned what he was doing mixed up in it.

He had tried twice before to 'retire', but Cullen knew his value to the clan and had made it clear there was only one way for him to retire - to do so permanently, in a box.

"I'm surrounded by a bunch of fucking gorillas, in fact that's an insult to gorillas," he thought.

"How did I end up in this fucking mess? Well at least I don't have to deal with that prick Miller anymore."

Fraser had had an uneasy relationship with Stevie Miller inside the clan. For some reason Miller had taken great delight in constantly needling him, perhaps in response to feeling inadequate beside Fraser and jealous of his standing with Cullen.

"Glasgow's a better place without the maniac. Whoever slotted him has done the rest of us a big favour," he thought, a smile reaching his mouth.

He climbed into a series three BMW with two minders and they headed out onto the streets of Glasgow to try and find some answers - "before Rab kills half of the city," he thought.

Gavin enjoyed the relaxed family banter around the dinner table. He looked round the faces and felt grateful for what the Anderson's had given him.

Glen Anderson, his wife Christine and their daughter Fiona had played a large part in the recovery of the damaged young man Gavin had been nine years before. The first six months with the Anderson family had been difficult. Social services had only told the family that Gavin had been recently orphaned, leaving out the details of his mother's violent ending. Christine had sat with him on the nights his nightmares had been at their worst, wondering what he had endured to inspire such terror.

The Anderson's were a working class family with basic protestant values. The security provided by the family unit around Gavin had probably done more to help him slowly heal than anything else. Ironically, he undoubtedly had a better upbringing with the Anderson's than he ever would have had if he had remained with his own mother.

Glen and Christine constantly encouraged him and his confidence grew as the years passed. The young Gavin had gradually come to terms with his mother's death and a focus began to emerge for the youngster.

He worked hard at school. When he found himself the target of bullies for being a good student, he was determined to do something about it. He hadn't forgotten his fear and overcoming it now was one of the goals he set himself early on. He persuaded the Anderson's to let him begin to study martial arts and took up swimming to build up his stamina. It wasn't long before the bullies learned to leave Gavin alone and as a result his confidence grew even more.

Things were good for Gavin. He had a stable home environment, was doing well at school and was competing successfully at a national level in swimming. Life got even better in his second year at St Andrew's High School.

Fiona, his 'sister' had started first year, a year behind him, and two months into the year he came across four older boys picking on her. More than three years of martial arts three times a week and swimming every day had turned Gavin into a solid, fast, lump of muscle. His feeling of gratitude to the Anderson's and his reading habits (of which more later) caused him to see himself as something of a white knight in this situation. He remembered the incident vividly.

2003

Turning the corner in the school grounds on his way to second year physics, Gavin found four boys who had cornered a younger girl. Her book bag was already on the ground and her textbooks were strewn around. He had instantly decided to intervene - William Tell Sackett wouldn't allow a woman to be subjected to this," he thought - when he recognised the girl. It was Fiona.

"Leave her alone Smith!" Gavin said in a low menacing voice.

"Fuck off, geek! This has got nothing to do with you," the boy replied.

Two of the other boys rounded on Gavin, their numbers giving them a sense of superiority.

"Yeah, fuck off swot. This is none of your business!" one of them added.

"She's my sister, that makes it my business. Now leave her alone," Gavin replied.

He was already calculating how he would handle the four of them and had moved his feet and stance to balance himself in readiness.

Gavin still hoped they would simply let it drop, but he didn't expect them to. Adam Smith was one of a gang of boys who were constantly causing trouble around the school.

While Smith and the other boy continued to struggle with Fiona, the two who had turned on Gavin began to circle him, trying to make sure one of them could take him from behind. His martial arts training regularly involved fighting against multiple opponents and the situation didn't faze Gavin at all. He was confident enough to even keep one eye on what was happening to Fiona. When he saw her fall to the ground under the other two boys he decided he had to end this quickly.

Gavin feinted an attack on the boy in front of him and then dropped down, anticipating the opponent behind him would try to rush him. His guess had been right and he was able to sweep his attackers legs out from under him, causing him to crash to the concrete yard with a yelp.

Springing up athletically, he swung his leg in a high arcing roundhouse, catching the second boy on the very point of his chin. The boy's head snapped back and his eyes became glassy at the force of the kick. Gavin spun again and stamped on the leg of his first attacker who was still on the ground.

Satisfied that the first two were no longer an immediate threat, he leapt towards where Smith and the remaining boy were still wrestling with Fiona. To give her her due, she was fighting for all she was worth and Smith and his accomplice were already scratched and bitten.

Gavin didn't waste time with any further warnings and didn't feel bad in the least for attacking Smith from behind. His right arm swept from right to left in a blur, his hand stiffened knife-like, as it delivered a vicious kite strike to the liver. Smith howled and rolled over clutching his side in agony. The last remaining attacker whirled round and took in the sight of his three buddies all in a heap.

He wasn't feeling so brave any longer and opted to run for it before he suffered a similar fate.

"Are you alright sis? What happened?" Gavin asked, as he crouched to help her to her feet.

He made sure to keep the three groaning boys in sight the whole time, wary of another attack.

Gavin knew the danger wasn't over yet. They could both be in trouble for fighting if he didn't do something immediately to address that.

"Come on sis, we need to get to the school office and report this before they do and try to twist what happened."

Fiona was still racing on adrenaline and not quite in the here and now. Gavin took her hand and tugged her along with him towards the school office.

Fortunately a teacher had witnessed the whole incident from a classroom window and he arrived at the school office right behind Gavin and Fiona. The Anderson's were called. Christine was at home and rushed to the school to make sure they were okay. By the time she arrived the head teacher was also in the school office and had been brought up to date on what had happened. Christine burst into the office, her concern obvious despite the reassuring message that the school had passed on.