How a Gunman Says Goodbye (Glasgow Trilogy, Book 2)
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How does a gunman retire? Frank MacLeod was the best at what he does. Thoughtful. Efficient. Ruthless. But is he still the best?
A new job. A target. But something is about to go horribly wrong. Someone is going to end up dead.
Most gunmen say goodbye to the world with a bang. Frank’s still here. He’s lasted longer than he should have . ..
The breathtaking, devastating sequel to lauded debut The Necessary Death of Lewis Winter, How a Gunman Says Goodbye will plunge the reader back into the Glasgow underworld, where criminal organisations war for prominence and those caught up in events are tested at every turn.
Well, not a good guy. He’s a criminal, so he’s a bad guy. But he’s a nice man. Well…’ ‘Okay, Kenny,’ Fisher’s saying. He doesn’t have the patience to sit and listen to yet another criminal pretend he isn’t one. Or pretend that he’s the only nice guy in his industry. They all say it. Some of them even believe it. ‘This is better. I’m thinking you and I could work together after all. I won’t forget that you helped us with this. There is one other thing. If Frank’s been pushed out, they must have
no harm to anyone. Calum gets it. He gets that you create a different image for people outside the business. A gunman never has to look tough. You don’t have to look tough when you’re doing a job. The gun looks tough enough for both of you. Thank God he isn’t coming this way. Frank’s gone in the other direction, as Calum assumed he would when he parked here. He’ll go to the pub. He’ll have a pint. He’ll come home. Does it every day, apparently. Every day on his own. Seems rather sad to Calum.
guarantee of safety. Not one he truly deserves. How many people has he killed? He should be inside. It could still happen. Tell Frank he gets safety for info. When you have the info, arrest him anyway. Then forget about ever getting another contact in the business. Shit, it always has to be this bloody awkward. People like Frank MacLeod can never give you an easy ride. He has the number on a piece of paper in front of him, daring himself to throw it in the bin. Go for the short-term prize of
round. Off down the street, trying to play catch-up. He’s lucky. He spots the back end of the target car turning up another street. He moves a little closer, has it in sight. From here it’s easy enough. You tail carefully. You tail in a way that does nothing to draw attention. When you’re used to looking out for tails of your own, this becomes easy. He’s an aggressive little driver, this fellow. Quick off his mark, pulling in front of people. He’s drawing plenty of attention to himself.
‘No,’ Young’s saying, ‘I don’t want you to. But we both know you have to. I don’t think he gave them a lot of info in the first meeting. He’ll have to give them something the second time they meet. We can’t let that meeting happen. We’re fucked if it does. Every one of us. I’d like to do it tonight.’ ‘No,’ Jamieson’s saying. Making sure his tone doesn’t invite any argument. Young’s gone. He spent a few minutes standing there, waiting for Jamieson to agree with him, then said he’d be back in the