I first met the maverick Scot, Calum Wick, on the rain-swept streets of Brixton. I strolled out of a spit-and-sawdust pub, and saved him from a savage beating by three huge Yardies who—as he put it later—were intent on making a wee profit from his wheeling and dealing. A short while later, as we laughed between groans and our blood stained the cracked basin in an evil-smelling public lavatory, he told me about the profitable scam with amusement lurking in his gleaming black eyes, for the twist in the tail was that the dealing that led to the fracas really
Soldier Blue and the Change of Plan
