Consequences Unforeseen

Glasgow December 1971

 

Glasgow December 1971

It was a cold day in Hell …

The man tapped him from behind on his left shoulder. It was totally unexpected, but not really a surprise. These things happen in Glasgow late at night.

“Sauchiehall Street, near midnight on a freezing December night and some chancer decides to spoil my happiness and attempt to mug me” thought Bill Douglas as his subconscious took over and reacted to the “oh so predictable” Glasgow curse. – or so he thought!

As he ducked beneath the offending arm, simultaneously turning and falling to sweep the legs of his would be assailant. The expected outcome was not as he would have anticipated.

The older guy behind him seemed to leisurely and deftly lift into the air, completely negating the leg sweep and surprising the shit out of the now perplexed young man.

“Now now laddie, don’t be like that” said George Fraser as he landed back on the pavement and giving a slap, slap, slap to the surprised visage of Bill Douglas.

The latter so much in shock and surprise that he just stood there gawking at the smiling face of the dapper older gentleman confronting him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? He mouthed off, “and do I know you?” he asked moving defensively back and to the side. He never took his eyes of this very polite but obviously gifted man.

The two openly assessed each other without moving or giving any indication of intended strike or counter strike.

On closer examination, the guy could not be much more than mid thirties, but to Bill Douglas any one over 30 was considered to be “one foot in the grave”.

For his part Fraser was taking in the 20 year old in front of him. He noted the self assurance and confidence that Douglas carried so well without a portrayal of arrogance. He saw intrigue in his eyes but no fear or even overt aggression. He had been expecting a more animated response seeing as how he had just triple slapped him.

He looked to be carrying a bit more muscle than when he had seen him last in fighting action in Baxter’s Bar near Virginia Beach Naval Air Station in the US.

Nothing much had changed in his facial appearance though, even down to the several burst capillaries on his nose and cheeks. “Pulling high “G” forces left its mark on some more than others” Fraser reflected, himself a victim of the self same thing from his earlier years in the Royal Air Force.

“You don’t know me, YET. But I know you William James Douglas,” he said in reply to the question in hand. “Last time I saw you, you had just torn a new asshole in a big American pilot in Virginia. No more than the bastard deserved though.

My name is George Fraser and here’s my ID and business card. I work for the British Government,” he said.

With this response and offered details Bill Douglas visibly relaxed his stance. He remained wary though and responded with another question. “So what the fuck are you doing here in Glasgow, on the worst street in town on the shittiest night of the year so far and taking the risk of a severe beating from me?”

Fraser chuckled in response and said “Fair enough Douglas, you have a point, but I was never in any risk of a beating. You’re still too slow to touch me, but if you listen to me some more tonight and are agreeable to my proposals, then we’ll see what we can do with you. I’d like to offer you a lift home.”

With that a black Jaguar XJ12 pulled up right on cue and the driver stepped out, opened the rear door and stood smartly erect watching the two men for a response.