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

wants Higgins to go away and think about it. He wants Higgins to have a look at what the police already
know about Francis, and bring that information back to him. The cop is young. He’s inexperienced. He might not realize what he’s being asked to do.
    The cop leaves first. Young waits for a boring twenty minutes before leaving the building, making sure there’s distance between them. He goes to the club, where he knows Jamieson will be.
They’ve discussed the issue so often. Someone is making moves. They need to know exactly who. There would be nothing more damaging and embarrassing than attacking the wrong enemy. They
don’t yet know exactly who is to blame. Young finds Jamieson playing snooker. He waits patiently for the frame to end, and the pair of them make their way back to Jamieson’s office.
It’s remarkable how relaxed Jamieson is about it. Young agonizes constantly, wondering who their target should be. They know the person is using Winter. Hitting Winter will send a powerful
message. He hopes it will also draw the real target out into the open.
    ‘Boy doesn’t know anything about Francis,’ Young’s saying as they take their usual seats.
    ‘Maybe there’s nothing to know.’ Jamieson knows Francis. Knows he’s smart. Knows he isn’t a risk-taker.
    ‘I’m convinced. Why is it so hard to find out anything about his operation? Because he’s hiding something. He has the whole thing locked down. Didn’t used to. I’m
telling you, he’s making some sort of move. If it ain’t against us, then it’s against someone else, and I can’t find anyone else who’s being moved against.’
    Jamieson taps the desk. ‘So what?’
    ‘So we wait and see what the reaction is to Winter. When he gets hit, something happens. Whoever was working with him will need to approach someone else. They have to come out in the open,
just a wee bit. Then we know.’
    ‘He still hasn’t hit Winter?’
    ‘Not yet. Soon.’

15
    He doesn’t like Fridays. Busiest day of the week, workwise. People are buying for the weekend. Hardcore users buy every day. A lot of casual users buy only on a Friday.
He has to make sure his people are well stocked for the spike in orders. He spends most of the morning doing that. He meets all six people that he’s using to sell his gear. Five of them are
users; they’re always difficult to track down. Unreliable. All over the place. Chaotic lives. He stocks four of them, and the one reliable dealer he has. He might make greater use of that
non-user in the future. If things are going big-time, then he might make the boy an offer. He’s jobless, maybe a little feckless, but he isn’t entirely stupid. And he’s clean,
that’s the most important thing. That stupid, using peddler. The one who hadn’t been able to sell what he’d been given. He’s nowhere to be found. He’s gone missing
with the gear he had left. Stolen for his own use. That requires punishment. He has to be seen to be tough. He won’t attack the man himself, but he will pay someone else to do it. Get back
any gear the guy still has, which will probably be none. Then never use him again.
    There’s another reason why Lewis Winter hates Fridays. Zara wants every Friday to be a party. They have to go out. There is no question, no debate. They are going out. They will drink,
they will dance, they will be out until the middle of the night. Twenty years ago he would have enjoyed it. Now, he hates every second. He doesn’t like being drunk; it makes him feel more
insecure and maudlin. It increases his hatred of the people Zara attracts. They’re all terribly young and terribly trendy. Men hover around. He tries to keep pace, but his heart isn’t
in it. She wants to dance. He knows how absurd he looks. It looks like she’s brought her uncle to the club with her. People have different attitudes now. They seem more aggressive in matters
of enjoyment. They have no trouble hitting on a man’s girlfriend when