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

before. You
charge in somewhere in the middle of the night to give them the fright of their lives. They stumble out of bed. Easy to deal with. As the young man takes his second stride, he’s alongside
George. He doesn’t see the hand flash out. He doesn’t see the gun gripped in the hand. He feels it when it smashes into the side of his head, between the ear and the forehead. Suddenly
the world isn’t underneath him any more. He’s sprawling sideways. He collides with the side of a chair and tumbles over it. Then he stays on the floor, whimpering.
    George raises the gun. He has the safety catch on, but nobody else knows that. Zara crosses her arms and looks at the two men in black. She sighs a little. She’s trying to look superior.
Not an easy thing to do in her position. Calum looks her in the eye. Holds her eye. He knows that she’s not going to put up resistance. She now just wants to get out of this night alive. The
things that mattered to her three minutes ago mean nothing now. Now it’s survival. Play nice for the men with the guns. Whatever they want. Anything is better than the bang of the gun. They
mean business. She knows it because they’re so calm. They’ve done this before. One of them is relaxed enough to laugh. Not hysterical laughter. Genuinely amused. The other is staring at
her. Looking her in the eye. Judging her.
    Calum looks at the man lying on the floor. He’s breathing heavily, but he’s not moving. Frozen with fear. Desperate to survive. There won’t be any trouble from him, either.
Calum can just see his legs and part of his back. He’s hunched over. Wishing it would all go away. He came here tonight on a promise from a beautiful woman. Now this. Calum feels sorry for
him, but a crack on the head is as far as it will go for him, provided he stays where he is. Just use some common sense, boy. He glances at George. He isn’t laughing any more. He’s
looking at the man on the floor, making sure that he can cover both him and Cope. Professional.
    There are many men in the business he would be worried about leaving alone in that situation. A pretty woman standing naked and compliant. A young man already battered and in fear of his life.
There are many who wouldn’t resist the temptation. Couldn’t resist. There are many who would take it too far. Not George. He knows his job. He knows what he has to do. No messing
around. Don’t speak. Don’t do anything you don’t have to do. There for a job. There’ll be ample opportunity to have fun in your own time, and without doing anything that you
might have to feel guilty about later. That’s why Calum can leave him alone in that situation.
    Clearly Winter isn’t in the living room. It’s not hard to judge what’s happened: the way they led him in; the lights going on and off. They took him upstairs. They dumped him
in his and Cope’s bedroom, and they came downstairs. They wanted to be alone. He was out of the way. On his own. Isolated. Ideal for the job in hand. Without saying a word Calum turns and
makes his way out of the living room. You take nothing for granted. You never know what might be lurking behind every door. He expects Winter to be crashed out. He expects an easy hit. But
he’s not taking it for granted.
    Up the stairs. Gun gripped, but not too tightly, don’t cramp your hand. It’s dark. Listen for any sound, anything suspicious. Winter may have heard the door being kicked open. If he
did, then he’s had two minutes to prepare for you. Time enough to grab a gun, if he’s got one. Time enough to grab some sort of weapon and lie in wait. If he heard the door. If.
Calum’s at the top of the stairs. Pause. Let your eyes get used to the darkness. Two doors on his left, one on his right. One directly facing him at the end of the corridor. No light from
any. At least one door will be to a bathroom. At least two of the other three will be bedrooms. Work out where you are. The light that went on and off