The Necessary Death of Lewis Winter (Glasgow Trilogy) (6 page)

No, he can’t. Not reliable enough to deal. Not intelligent enough to work. If he has no money, then he has nothing at all.

All lenders are scum. In this case, the lender is a man called Marty. Not only an exploitative thug, but a boastful irritant as well. Always hanging around Jamieson’s club, trying to
ingratiate himself. Despite his ability to maintain his temperament, George has often wanted to shut Marty’s boastful mouth. He’s so used to beating up people that he cares nothing for.
He doesn’t hate these people, doesn’t even dislike them. Mostly he just feels sorry for the people he’s sent to deal with. It’s the job, though, and he’s learned not
to care. He would actually enjoy carrying out his work if Marty was the target. No such luck. Maybe one day. People do fall out of favour after all. So far, though, Marty has always been able to
make enough money to stay popular.

Not just money. Women too. Marty is a big provider for Jamieson and others of that rank. He finds young women, provides good venues, organizes the best parties. Living to excess, cutting loose
because you can afford to. Marty provides. It’s how the other half live. The other half from Robert, who is now on his feet. A grim little flat, almost no furniture to speak of. A life not
worth living. And now George has turned up on his doorstep to make it even worse.

‘Ah can get some money.’

George sighs lightly. They all say that. They say it no matter the circumstances, because they think it’s what he wants to hear. It just isn’t enough. Marty has already said that
this guy has no money, and no prospect of getting it. This will be a final warning.

He waits until Robert has straightened up again. He raises his hand, and he pauses just long enough to allow Robert to duck slightly. He catches him on the ear; Robert falls to the floor again.
It isn’t a hard hit; George can’t be bothered with that. He’s made his point.

‘You got one week. One week from today, someone’s gonna come round and see you. You have the money by then.’

George walks out of the flat and moves quickly down the filthy stairwell to the exit of the building. A typical job. Robert will get some money, by hook or by crook. He’ll steal it from
somewhere. He’ll borrow it from another lender. He won’t get everything Marty claims he owes, but he’ll get enough to avoid the worst punishment. He’ll end up digging an
even bigger hole for himself in the process. They just don’t live a life at all, George is thinking, as he drops into his car.

He’s stopping the car outside his flat. No more work today, as far as he’s aware. Finished by lunchtime. If something else comes up, they’ll call him. Otherwise, his day is his
own. Jamieson doesn’t pay him a huge amount, but he makes enough to get by, and he enjoys getting by. A casual life – no responsibility, a lot of fun. He bounds up the stairs, sees a
figure sitting on the top step as he comes round the corner. He pauses. You always worry. He might not be a key employee, but you can always be a target. It’s people like him, people who are
easy to get to, that some will go for first. A revenge attack on Jamieson by attacking someone who doesn’t think he needs protection. A little warning for those higher up. Easier to attack
than a person who’s actually waiting to be attacked.

‘What’s up, Cal?’ he’s asking, but he already knows.

They’ve known each other for eight or nine years. Calum’s a year older than George, but he’s been in the business a year less. He’s risen fast, while George has happily
stayed low. They’ve worked together several times before. When Jamieson’s used Calum, and Calum has needed backup, he’s always used George. George is the only friend he has who
works for Jamieson. He’s the only friend he has that he would use on a Jamieson job. Calum isn’t the sort of friend who drops round unannounced unless he has a good reason. Too well
mannered. Too considerate. He’s here because he needs help on a job, and he wants George to be that help. And George can’t say no. It’s his job. Calum knows it. He thinks George
will be happy to help, so he asks. He also knows that George has no choice. George can’t call Young or Jamieson and ask if he has to do it. He knows he has to. To wriggle out of it would
raise uncomfortable questions.

‘Can I come in?’ Calum asks, standing on the top step.

‘Yeah, course,’ George is nodding. He’s not going to leave his friend out on the step, no matter what. This is work, not social. This is work he won’t want to do. But
it’s work he will end up doing. He’s opening the door, knowing that by letting Calum in he’s accepting the job. He holds the door open; Calum walks in. Calum’s walking
straight through to the kitchen, taking a seat at the kitchen table. It’s the strange thing about his flat, the thing George has never been able to understand. People always gravitate towards
the kitchen to talk, rather than the living room. He either has a wonderful kitchen or an unwelcoming living room. He’s not sure which.

George is making a cup of coffee for both of them. Calum never asks for anything, tries never to be an imposition. George is delaying, not wanting to know what the job is until
the latest possible moment. It’s the part of the job he hates, thinking about it. Thinking about everything that can go wrong. There are plenty of people in the industry who are stupid enough
never to think of what might go wrong. There are many who can only summon the intellectual capacity to think of what can go right, what the positive potential is. The outcome. That’s what
everyone’s thinking of. It’s what everyone wants to think of. The smart ones realize that when the conclusion arrives, they might not be in a position to enjoy it.

‘I got a job on,’ Calum’s telling him as George sits opposite.

There’s a lot of sunlight in the kitchen – that might be why people come here. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. Might need a wee bit of help. You interested?’

George is shrugging. He can’t not be interested. ‘I guess. What d’you need?’

‘I got a target. He might have people around him when I move, so I’ll need someone to keep them out of the way.’ Nothing exact. Keep it vague until you have a definite
agreement. He trusts George, but that doesn’t mean you spill your guts. It’s largely because George is a friend that he won’t give him the detail until he knows it’s safe to
do so. Give George deniability.

‘What can I do to help?’ George is asking, and leaning back in his chair to hear the detail.

‘You heard of Lewis Winter?’

‘Yeah,’ George is nodding, thinking back. ‘Dealer. Shitty operation, if ever I saw one. Sure I remember scaring away one of his scabby wee peddlers. He the target?’
he’s asking with real surprise.

‘Yep, he’s the one. Been stepping on toes, apparently. They think he’s setting something big up, and they want to stop him.’

George is scoffing. ‘Winter’s never set up anything big in his puff. Doesn’t know how.’ It’s typical to doubt the motives of your employers, to scoff at their
reasons. Everyone thinks their boss is paranoid, because in this business every boss has good reason to be. In this case, George means it.

‘Seems like he has bigger people backing him up. Or will do. Hopefully not yet.’

‘Aye,’ George is nodding, ‘hopefully.’

Obvious cynicism. It’s people like Calum and George who get let down by their bosses, hung out to dry. Send them in to do a job that’s so risky you would never do it yourself.
That’s the way of it. Calum and George are expendable. Winter could have major backup, the kind of people who would make their lives hell. Jamieson wouldn’t care, so long as he was off
the hook.

‘You followed him?’

‘Yep. Last couple of days. Usual street work. Meeting people in pubs.’

‘Shitty operation.’

‘Shitty operation. Place to get him is the house. Him and his bird go out every night drinking. Come home drunk. Sometimes they bring people home with them.’

‘Oh, aye.’

‘Sometimes they don’t. I’m going for him tomorrow night. If they’re drunk then it shouldn’t be too tough.’

They’ve both heard that so many times. They’ll be pissed, it’ll be easy. Sometimes you end up relying on alcohol to do half the job for you, and it has a tendency to let you
down. People can sober up awfully fast. They see the danger, something switches in them, and suddenly the alcohol makes no difference. Sometimes they’re not as drunk as they look. You get
some people who are so used to being very drunk that they can think and act well despite it. Then there’s the unpredictability. Some people, when drunk, begin to behave in ways that you would
never expect of them. Some gain courage they shouldn’t be entitled to. Some become uncharacteristically decisive. They strike back, they do something stupid. They take incredible risks with
their safety. Never rely on their drunkenness. Never.

‘Winter never used to be much of a boozer,’ George is telling Calum. ‘Used to be a quiet guy, kept himself to himself. Then he met her.’

‘Aye, well, looks to me like it’s her who leads the way on the nights out. They go to nightclubs. He ain’t a nightclub guy. They roll home pissed. I don’t know if
they’ll have anyone with them. Might. Might not. Best-case scenario, it’s just Winter and Cope. Worst case, they might have a bunch of other people with them.’

‘So what’s the plan? Let them wind down?’

‘Nah, I don’t want them to be in bed. We let them get into the house. We knock, go in. You get everyone else into one room, I get Winter into another. We make it fast. I want in and
out in two minutes. Just hold them there, then we leave. We don’t need to do anything clever with this one. No complications.’

George is nodding. No complications is wishful thinking, but it can happen. Sometimes you get hit with all sorts of unforeseen trials. Sometimes everything is exactly as you hope it will be.
George hasn’t been on too many hits – four in eight years before this one – but he’s heard enough. Heard from people like Calum. People who do it for a living. Four or five
a year. Every manner of hit. He remembers Calum from way back, when they first met. Back then Calum was a gawky-looking guy. He lacked self-confidence; he was quiet to the point of antisocial. A
lot of people thought he was being a jerk. Most of them ran their mouths off, partied it up. People slept around, drugs flowed freely. It was a violent, exciting, thrilling and sometimes short
life. The smart ones avoided that.

Calum and George partied their fair share. They slept around a little, they had good times. It wasn’t what motivated them, though. A lot of people found their way into the business because
they saw the lifestyle and wanted it. People were in clubs and saw young men their own age partying with pretty girls and spending money. The flash kids attracted more new recruits. Yet it
wasn’t the flash kids who ever ended up being successful. They would make money, sure, if they knew how to stay onside. They would never have true responsibility, though. They would never get
a job like Calum’s. You don’t give a job like that to someone with a big mouth. Show-offs end up being seen by the wrong people. But they attract new recruits. Not Calum and George,
though. That wasn’t the lifestyle that had attracted them.

For George, it had been the chance to do something irregular. He couldn’t settle in a normal workplace. He couldn’t settle in a normal life. Some people are just like that. Itchy
feet. He did the jobs he was given, he made enough money to live on and he drifted through life. He was content. He didn’t need anything more than he had. He didn’t dream of riches. He
didn’t dream of the perfect life. For him, good was enough, and this was good. Calum had similar motivations. He went into the business and did similar work to George. Where George was
working for Jamieson, Calum was essentially freelance. He tended to get worse jobs, more dangerous. He had no safety net. He impressed a lot of people. Before long, he carried out his first hit.
People gradually became aware of the fact that he was a big talent. He stayed freelance, though. He did as few jobs as he could get away with. Just enough money. Just enough experience. He judged
it well.

Calum ends up staying for a couple of hours. Neither has anything else to do today. Calum is making a point of keeping his distance from Winter, letting him live his penultimate day in peace.
They talk about everything other than work. The job should be simple, and they’ve done it enough times to each know what’s required of them. Little is required of George, all being
well, beyond turning up; everything Calum still has to do is simple. Simple for him. Simple for someone who has done it so often before. They talk as friends, not as colleagues. No business. Make
each other laugh. Take some of the tension out of it. Doesn’t matter how many times you’ve done the job, there’s still tension to be exorcized.

People deal with the immediate build-up differently. Some people will drink heavily. Some will party, get a woman. Those are ways of relieving tension. Others shut themselves
off from the world. They need to focus on the job, have no distractions at all. For Calum, the best preparation is to live life as he always does. Don’t treat it like it’s anything
other than a job. Just another job. Some people get up and go and sit in an office all day. Some people build things. Other people drive around all day. That’s their job. They don’t
think about it, they just do it. For Calum, it’s killing people. He will prepare for the job. On the day of the job, he will carry it out. Then, afterwards, he will go through the same
process that he always does. Nothing clever, nothing special.

There are still things to do. He needs weapons. Plural. One for him, one for George. George won’t use his, if he can possibly avoid it. He still needs a usable piece. You plan for the
worst-case scenario. Calum needs something as well. Something very usable. Something reliable. He’ll certainly be using his, no matter what. He’s committed to the job and that means
completing it, no matter how badly it goes along the way. Getting the guns is a nervous matter. Getting them can be as dangerous as using them. There are plenty of places to buy, very few that can
be trusted. A lot of people in the business of selling weapons are people on the fringes, people not fully involved in the industry. They have access, and that makes them useful. Doesn’t make
them popular. Doesn’t make them insiders.