The Necessary Death of Lewis Winter (Glasgow Trilogy) by Malcolm Mackay

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