The Long Glasgow Kiss

‘He’s not. Anything but. Largo represents serious opposition, and the Corsicans don’t take kindly to opposition. Trust me, John Largo has more to fear from his swarthy islander competitors than he does from law enforcement. Fact is the Syndicate is largely made up of Neapolitan and Sicilian families. There’s some kind of animosity between the Italians and Corsicans. The Corsicans are the wrong type of Guinea or something, I guess. And Largo has been undercutting their prices. So, he’s slowly been carving out a bigger share of the US market.’

‘How did you find out about him?’

A couple of young women walked past and we again raised our hats. The girls laughed in a stupid way and walked on. No class, I thought. The one nearest to me had on a white linen skirt so lightweight that the sun shone through, outlining her thighs and hips. No class but nice ass.

‘Six months ago I got a lead,’ said Devereaux. ‘The Italians don’t talk because of their omertà, but they have to work with others. In the Syndicate and out of it. They’ve been setting up a network of coloured middlemen throughout Harlem. One of them was a guy called Jazzy Johnson, who also happened to be one of my snitches. Johnson wasn’t able to pass on information of any quality because they never told him anything more than the barest minimum he needed to know. But what made Jazzy a good snitch was the way he was all ears and he told me everything he could pick up. One of the things he overheard was a conversation about an overdue shipment that was coming from Glasgow, and the name John Largo was mentioned.’ Devereaux shrugged. ‘That’s it … not much to go on, but at least I was able to put the name to a figure we knew was operating in Europe. Still not much information there except he was an ex-soldier …’

‘Ain’t we all?’ I interrupted.

‘Sure, but Largo is supposed to be some kind of ex-professional. You know, career-type soldier.’

‘Which army?’

‘Don’t know. US, Canadian … maybe even British. The start of the supply chain has to be out in the Far East and it could be that John Largo started out in some Brit colony like Hong Kong. Or fought the Japs rather than the Krauts. Wherever he did his fighting and whoever he did it for, the rumours are that he is one deadly son-of-a-gun. There’s been a lot of blood spilt across Asia and Europe just setting this thing up.’ Devereaux stopped again and looked around the park. ‘Say, do you think we could do this wet?’

I looked at my watch. ‘The pubs are open. I know a place near here …’

There tends to be an architectural style or design vernacular that unites buildings used for a common, specific purpose. Glasgow bars seemed to be themed eternal gloom. Where there were windows, the glass was frosted or misted for the twin purposes of concealing the earnest business of Scottish drinking from the outside world and to attenuate any sunlight into an insipid milky-white bloom.

We didn’t speak further about Largo or the FBI all the way through the park and onto the main road. Instead, we talked about Vermont and New Brunswick. Different sides of the border but pretty much the same way of life and pretty much the same way of looking at life. A few heads had turned in our direction when we entered the gloom of the bar, but we were ignored once we had ordered a couple of whiskies and sat over at a corner table away from the smattering of other customers.

‘So your informant. Can’t he find out any more about Largo?’

‘He can’t find out anything about anything any more.’

I raised an eyebrow but Devereaux shook his head. ‘Bar fight. The same old crap … about a woman, or a spilt drink, or a remark. He took a knife in the ribs.’

‘Oh, I see,’ I said, and a fleeting thought that Glasgow was maybe twinned with Harlem fleeted. ‘And you have no other leads?’

‘You got all I got.’ It was the first time I’d seen Devereaux close to gloomy. But it might just have been the pub.

‘Listen,’ I said, ‘don’t get me wrong, I’m not haggling … but a thousand dollars isn’t much for the FBI to be offering for information leading them to someone as big, and someone who you have so few leads on, as John Largo.’

‘We have other priorities. Commies, mainly. Between Hoover and McCarthy we’ve spent the last five, six years chasing red spectres and letting the Syndicate get away with murder. Literally. The other thing is my bosses don’t put the same importance on Largo as I do. They see the French Connection, as they call it, as the biggest threat. And, to be honest, this problem isn’t a problem as far as a lot of my superiors are concerned so long as it’s in Harlem. Upper Manhattan or Nassau County and we’d have a task force set up with a million-dollar budget. But Harlem … it’s just niggers.’

I took a breath and let it go slowly. It all fitted. ‘You can keep the reward money,’ I said. ‘If I find anything out about Largo I’ll give it to you for free. Like I said, I’ve got a lot of people paying for my time to find people I can’t find.’