The Necessary Death of Lewis Winter (Glasgow Trilogy) Read online

  12

  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.

  13

  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.

  Some runners get their guns from legitimate sources. You find people who own them legally, and you buy them. Most do not. For most, the guns are acquired either through theft or from unseemly sources. You find people who own guns legally and you rob them. That happens. You find someone working with guns and you bribe them. That happens more often. Soldiers are a source. Guns go missing from an army barracks. There’s a lot of guns there; it’s easy for one or two to walk. Handguns always. Only an idiot or a show-off buys something more than that. You can get bigger guns. You can get automatics. But why? You won’t need an automatic or a shotgun in a gangland environment, unless you expect a pitched battle. You certainly won’t be in a good position to hide the thing, and dispose of it afterwards.

  The most common source remains reusage. A runner will buy a gun from someone who’s used it on a job. Then they sell it to someone else. Then they buy more guns secondhand, sell them on again. Many guns will go round in endless circles. Many are used on multiple jobs by various people, passing through the hands of several runners in the process. It’s a lucrative market, and the one Calum most often uses. He uses the same runner because he’s the only one he’s thus far learned to trust. Some will use multiple runners to make sure that no one supplier knows how often they work, but you only do that if you trust more than one runner. That takes time. So far, always the same one. Reasonable prices, sell the gun back after use. Essentially rental, although you never know when you might be forced to ditch the weapon mid-job. Usual cost, four or five hundred pounds. That will be more than swallowed up by Jamieson’s payment to Calum.

  There is another source of weapons. Many guns have come across the water from Northern Ireland to supply people. Many people have come across from Northern Ireland to make use of their criminal skills. Some people like that, welcome them. Others don’t. Jamieson doesn’t, and Calum certainly doesn’t. There are plenty who claim to do his job, although this is a different environment from the kind of killings they’re more used to. They’re outsiders who think themselves at home. They don’t belong, but haven’t noticed. Too many friends have welcomed them and allowed them to take root. They have weapons galore to sell, and there are plenty buying. Not Calum. Not ever. Different kind of criminals. Different kind of people.

  He visits his runner in the early evening. No warning. Turn up at his house. He keeps them in the loft, only ever two or three in his possession at a time. If they were found, he would look like a dangerous small-time operator. Two or three guns found. How many hundreds have passed through his hands in the three decades that he’s been in the business? He’s knowingly supplied many killers on many occasions. He’s always kept his head down and his mouth shut, and perhaps nothing is more important for a runner. Once you have a name, a public awareness, then you have nothing. Little is said. He knows why Calum is there. He retrieves the weapons, money changes hands and Calum leaves. Two small handguns. No whistles and bells. No silencers, for example. Not needed in a job designed to send a message. Expensive, heavy, unnatural. Very few gunmen like them – gives you a harder shot. Job’s hard enough, thank you very much.

  Out on the streets with two guns in your pocket. A nervous time. Calum is driving straight home. He’ll hide the guns, pushed in through an air vent on a blocked-up chimney in his bedroom. One more thing to do, but that can wait. He has more than twenty-four hours before he does the job. The last thing to do will be done the following morning, and it will involve the help of his elder brother. A precautionary measure, and he takes a few of those. There is an issue with that, though. There’s an issue with taking too many precautions. You change everything about yourself and people start to notice. You make radical changes to yourself or your life before every job, and people will notice. Someone will put two and two together. Nothing that draws attention.

  The following morning he calls his brother William at the garage that William has a share in. His brother, two years older (certainly not two years wiser), must know what he does. He definitely knows that Calum works in the industry. He must be aware. William has many contacts in the business himself. He played a role in introducing Calum to a lot of people in the business. William now runs a semi-legit garage in the east end. Small place, small-time. Makes reasonable money, topped up by supplying cars to people in the trade. Help out people you trust, make a bit of money. Keeps things ticking over nicely. With Calum, it’s a little bit different.

  William always helps Calum, every job. Calum goes to him because he’s his brother, and he can trust him. William would take any punishment rather than allow his little brother to be found out. He suspects what his brother does, why he needs the cars. Fine: supply him. Don’t talk directly about the work. Warn him to be careful. He worries, though. It’s an industry where it’s hard not to make a little mistake. Little mistake means big punishment. What would it do to their mother, if her younger son were to find himself locked up for life? So he always helps Calum, but there’s a growing reluctance. The more jobs his brother does, the more likely he is to be caught. Does William warn him? Does he say something about the business, breaking the unwritten code of silence that exists between them on the issue? Not yet.

  Calum arrives in his own car, but he won’t leave in it. People take their cars to the garage in all good faith. They hand them over to be fixed or serviced; they’re told to come back the following day to collect them. They don’t know that the car is going to be used in a criminal job. Once upon a time these defensive efforts weren’t necessary. Now, thanks to CCTV, they are. Calum doesn’t want his own car being picked up anywhere near Winter’s house. So he uses the car of some poor innocent soul, someone the police wouldn’t even think of suspecting. Use it, return it. His brother hands it back to the owner the following day – everyone’s happy. There’s a risk. If the police get a bee in their bonnet about that particular car. They see it on CCTV, decide to dig deeper. Question the owner. Find out it was in the garage at the time. Less of a risk than using his own car.

  ‘How you doin’, little bro?’ William smiles as Calum walks into the garage. There’s another mechanic working on the underside of a car, a customer standing beside the little office at the back. ‘Let me deal with this guy, I’ll be with you.’

  Calum nods and waits. William is talking to the customer, telling him how to avoid repeating the damage he’s done to his car. Calum pays little mind, knowing nothing about cars. The man leaves the garage with his car keys in hand, looking haunted by the bill he’s been given. William is walking across to his brother, shaking his head. ‘Some people shouldn’t be on the road. So what’s up?’ He stays cheerful, but he knows this will be business.

  ‘Can we talk?’ Calum’s asking, nodding to the office.

  They’re standing in the little office now, just the two of them. It’s cramped. T
here’s a door leading out to the alleyway behind the garage, a desk with a computer and some paperwork, a Pirelli calendar. The windows look out into the garage itself.

  ‘I need a car for the night. I can bring it back middle of the night, or first thing in the morning.’

  William is nodding. ‘I can get you a motor. Any likely damage?’ He asks as a matter of routine. There’s almost never a risk. He wants to know if his brother is going to go far in it, maybe use it on country roads. Anything that might make it obvious that it’s been out of the garage. He can fix the clock if he needs to.

  ‘Nope. Won’t leave the city, all very ordinary.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ William says to his little brother. ‘I can do you a wee Corsa, not gonna draw much attention. Being picked up tomorrow afternoon, so make sure it’s back by then.’ He’s handing Calum the keys from a little rack.

  ‘You bein’ careful?’ William asks Calum as the latter is making to leave the office.

  ‘Work, or birds and bees?’

  William grins. ‘Jesus, if I still need to give you the birds and bees speech . . . I mean work. You bein’ careful with work? Careful who you work for, I mean.’

  Calum is shrugging. ‘I’m always careful what I do, you know that. Why, what’s got you spooked?’

  William shrugs. ‘I dunno. I hear things. Been hearin’ people talk a lot these days about changes. Apparently there’s new people comin’ into the city.’