Cyclops

 

Cyclops 

‘Just so we’re clear,‘ Cyclops said, staring into Jim McCourt’s eyes, ‘that five hundred becomes six hundred the morra and seven hundred the next day. It goes up a hundred a day until it’s cleared. You fuckin understand me?’ Jim nodded, intimidated by the sheer bulk of the local moneylender. I’ll get ye it by the bells, nae worries, Cyclops.’ The big man looked at him with his one functioning eye, the other was said to have been lost in a prison fight. ‘You dae that or ye can say cheerio tae a few of yer fingers.’ Then, almost as an afterthought, he said, ‘either that or you can start delivering Special K for me, work it aff over a few months. I’ve got a big delivery coming oan Saturday, just in time for the new year. Either way, I’ll see you soon, Jimbo.’ 

Jim McCourt watched the bulky figure of Charlie ‘Cyclops’ Todd, walk along the street, the swaggering master of all he surveyed and a grade A bastard. He knew Cyclops’ money lending business was one of a few criminal enterprises he had going. Parasites like him controlled the drug trade in the scheme and cared not a jot about the lives it destroyed. As long as the tainted bank notes rolled in, he was happy. Jim headed for home, his thoughts gloomy and his prospects poor. Why- oh-why had he borrowed money from that particular shark? He knew the answer of course; to give his two kids a decent Christmas. Being sacked from his job and having a long wait for universal credit, he thought it the only way he could do it. Now, Christmas was over and the birds had come home to roost. 

Jim McCourt sat in the North Stand at Celtic Park, watching as Celtic attacked a Ross County side who had come to park the bus and hope for the best. Celtic were on a long unbeaten run. His long-time friend, Brian McAllister looked at him, ‘you ok, mate? You look as if the troubles of the world are on yer shoulders.’  Jim nodded, ‘aye, I’m fine Brido, just thinking about next week’s match at Ibrox. Any sign of a ticket?’ Brido knew him better than that but didn’t push it. ‘Still got the feelers oot, ye never know.’ No sooner had he said that when Erik Sviatchenko hit a low shot towards the Ross County goal. It evaded everyone and nestled in the corner of the net. No one looked more surprised than the stocky Dane but a last the visitors resistance was broken. 

Later as Jim and Brido stopped off at McChuills’ for a pint, Jim finally told Brido his problem. ‘I owe that psycho, Cyclops a grand and it’s growing at a hundred at day. If I don’t pay him by the bells, it’ll be my fingers or I’ll need tae sell his latest batch of poison. He tells me he has a batch arriving oan Saturday.’ ‘Fucks sake, Jim,’ Brido replied. ‘Why did ye get mixed up wi that crackpot?’  Jim shrugged, ‘needed money for Christmas.’ Brido regarded him, ‘I could scrape a couple of hundred together, much are you short?’ Jim sighed, ‘I’ve scraped about £400 together, so even if you loaned me some, I’m still nowhere near, I need £1200 by Hogmanay.’ Brido exhaled, ‘might need tae head tae yer brother’s place in Blackpool for a while?’ Jim shook his head, ‘and leave Liz and the weans tae face that screwball? No chance.’ They sipped their beer in silence for a while before Brido spoke, ‘I’ll see what I can borrow and if we dae get tickets for Ibrox, we’ll sell them on. Try not to worry, we’ll find the money somehow.’ 

The next two days limped past and Hogmanay arrived, grey and sullen. ‘I’m going tae watch the match at Brido’s, Liz. I’ll see you later,’ Jim said puling on his coat, a feeling of dread rising within him. He had scraped together £625 and was heading to Cyclops’ house before the football to pay him this amount and hopefully buy enough time to find the rest. As he turned into the street where his nemesis lived, he bumped into Brido. ‘Alright Mucker? We going tae this match?’ Jim was a bit confused, ‘I thought we were watching it at your place?’ Brido grinned, ‘naw, I’ve still got the two tickets and the bus leaves in an hour.’ Jim’s face spoke volumes as he replied, ‘mate, you know I need tae go face up to this fucker today, I’m really no in the mood for goin’ tae the fitbaw.’ Brido looked at him, ‘you not heard the news? Cyclops was caught with enough ketamine tae light up Glesga this morning. Seems he was meeting some big-time suppliers from Liverpool when the cops pounced.’  Jim McCourt’s mouth fell open, ‘whit?’  ‘Aye,’ Brido continued, cops had guns, the lot. Wi his list of convictions, he’ll be doing ten years at least. They’re taking his hoose apart as well. God knows what they’ll find there.’  

Jim McCourt looked at the carrier bag he carried. It contained the £625 he intended to pay to Cyclops. Brido saw his confusion, ‘mate, he’s gone and he won’t be back for years. Save that for you and Liz. Noo come on, we’ve got a game to go too. They passed Cyclops’ house on the way to the pub where the supporters bus left from. Four police cars were parked outside and men in white overalls were carrying boxes to a waiting van. As they passed a small group gathered nearby to watch proceedings, Jim overheard one of them saying, ‘couldn’t happen to a worse bastard. Hope we never see him again.’ He had to agree. 

Jim and Brido were in the second row from the front of the Broomloan stand as a titanic struggle played itself out. Rangers scored early through Miller but Moussa Dembele had controlled a corner and volleyed an unstoppable shot high into the net to make it 1-1. As the game moved into the second half, Celtic were looking the more likely team to win. Celtic attacked down the right wing. Patrick Roberts moved infield with the ball and seemed to be well covered. Suddenly Stuart Armstrong darted past him into the box and Roberts slipped the ball into his path. Jim watched as if in slow motion as Armstrong fired the ball hard and low across the six-yard box. He glanced to his right just in time to see Scott Sinclair bundle the ball home. The Celtic end exploded and Brido grabbed his friend. ‘Yaaas! We’ve done it!’ They hugged each other as they had done as kids watching their first derby match years before. There would be no come back now. Rangers were a beaten team and the 7000 away fans roared out their delight. 

Later that night a noisy pub, the songs were flowing as was the beer. Some of their friends from the supporters’ bus were talking about Cyclops being jailed. Jim said nothing but tuned into the conversation. ‘Seems they caught him wi a lot of gear. He’ll be getting a long stretch for that,’ said one guy. ‘Aye,’ his friend responded, ‘the cops seemed tae know what he was up tae. Probably hacked his phone or got a tip off.’ As Brido came back from the toilet, Jim smiled at him and handed him a beer, ‘alright mate?’ Brido returned his smile, ‘I’m buzzing, Jim boy, I’m feckin’ buzzing.’ Jim knew he had told Brido about Cyclops expecting a big delivery and wondered if he’d quietly told the cops. As the fans started another song, he let the thought slip away. However they found out, it was for the best. The streets were safer with the likes of Cyclops off the scene. He slipped his arm across his friend’s shoulder as they joined in the song... 

‘Piling on the agony, putting on the style! 

1-2-3-4-5-6-7 scoring all the while 

There’s nothing in this whole wide world 

That makes you want to smile 

As watching Glasgow Celtic putting on the style!’