I was born on Rabbie Burns' day in the small industrial town of Kilmarnock, in the West of Scotland. My mother took it as a sign of impending literary fortune. Naturally enough, I ignored her, despite writing being the only thing I loved [after rugby and the fairer sex].
This is a declaration to the people of Glasgow. The police are useless and corrupt. We are taking it into our own hands: The Glasgow Marshals
For Douglas Brodie, Glasgow's outbreak of murder and mayhem begins simply enough. A typical Saturday night brawl adds a splash of colour to the morning edition of the Gazette. But Brodie's piece receives a hot-blooded reply - the declaration of a new war upon petty crime signed by a group of vigilantes: The Glasgow Marshals. After his own stint at the Front, Brodie counts himself lucky to be back in his home town, paying his way as the local crime reporter. And although the frustrated, demobbed men of Glasgow are taking an eye for an eye, Brodie has some sympathy for their cause. So when a man is murdered, suspicion automatically falls on the Marshals, and the police are quick to agree. But for Brodie, this crime is all wrong. The Marshals stand for justice, not murder. Amid the heated clash of populace and police, a calculated killing has been ignored. Enlisting the help of advocate Samantha Campbell, Brodie begins to investigate the death himself, finding that of course the old saying always holds true: still waters do run deep.