Young didn’t drink that second coffee. It’s not like he comes here for the coffee anyway. It’s for the escape. He waited for Calum to leave and then made his own way out. Back to the club. Back to Jamieson. Sitting behind his desk, looking miserable. He’s been in the office all morning. Not in the mood to see anyone. Not in the mood to talk to people. He’s been waiting for Young to come back with news. It’s a horrible thing, being the top man and not being able to do things for yourself because of it. The more successful he is, the less it’s safe for him to be seen doing. He’s giving Young a grim look as he walks across to his usual place on the couch.
‘You speak to the boy?’ The boy. Calum’s twenty-nine, nearly thirty. They’ve become so used to thinking of gunmen as being Frank. Old men, gnarled veterans of many a battle.
‘I spoke to him,’ Young’s nodding.
He’s gone through the conversation, telling Jamieson everything Calum had to say. Almost word for word. He might as well have recorded it. There wasn’t much to remember. Jamieson’s listened intently, hasn’t said a single word throughout. Not even a nod of approval. Listening, building up a picture of events. Trying to picture everything that happened last night.
‘He was a long time in that flat with that pair,’ he’s saying, now that Young’s finished.
‘He was.’
‘The boy did well.’
‘He did,’ Young’s agreeing.
Jamieson’s tone is miserable. Casting doubt on Frank. Complimenting Calum. It sounds like he’s trying to persuade himself that Frank’s time has passed.
Jamieson’s taken a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet behind his desk. He hasn’t switched on the two TVs on top of the cabinet today. That’s unlike him, but this requires his full attention. He’s pouring out a glass. Kenny can drive him home. He doesn’t offer one to Young; he wouldn’t accept it anyway. Not much of a drinker. Not in the daytime anyway.
‘I wish we knew for certain what went wrong,’ he’s saying, sitting back at the desk. ‘If there was a leak…’
‘Highly unlikely,’ Young’s saying. ‘Only you, me and Frank knew. We kept it close, nobody could have guessed. I didn’t tell anyone. I assume you didn’t. Frank’s a pro; he wouldn’t have breathed a word. He was spotted.’
‘Aye. I guess he was.’ A gunman who gets spotted prepping a job isn’t much of a gunman. It’s a fundamental part of the job. You get in and out without raising any alarms. The killing is supposed to be the easy part.
‘Your opinion,’ Jamieson’s saying. ‘Honest-to-God opinion.’ He’s saying it with trepidation. He has a good idea where this conversation is going to go now. He needs to hear the words.
‘I…’ Young starts, but now he’s stopping. He’s trying to think of the right way to put it. He can usually be as blunt as he wants with Jamieson. They’re normally talking about people who don’t matter much to either of them. Frank’s different. Frank’s earned the right to respect. ‘I think maybe we still see Frank as he was when we first started working with him. He’s not that guy any more. He’s out for months, getting a hip replaced. Now, first job back, and this happens. I trust Frank. With my life. I’m just not sure we can rely on him for a job any more. I know he gives his best, but now maybe that’s not enough. Whatever you do with Frank, last night proved that Calum’s the best gunman we’ve got.’
‘Fuck’s sake!’ Jamieson’s whispering. He’s annoyed because he agrees. Three months ago and Frank was the best gunman in the city. He had been convinced of that. Had been since the day he hired him. Now he can’t trust him to do a simple job. This has to be down to the hip replacement. He’s convinced it was the recovery time. Frank resting up, out of the business altogether. Not able to come and hang around the club, keep in touch. Sitting with his feet up instead. Then he sent him out to Spain for a couple of weeks’ holiday in his little villa. Frank switched off. Now he can’t switch back on. Tempting to give him another job. Get him back in the saddle. It might give him a chance to redeem himself, get back to being the Frank MacLeod he was. It also might just get him killed. He’s too much of a friend to take a risk like that.
Jamieson’s thumping the table with a flat palm. Decision made, stick to it, get on with life. That’s how he works. Decisive. Determined. Committed to his judgement.
‘I’m going to have to speak to Frank,’ he’s saying. ‘Maybe give it a few days first. I’ll see if there’s something else he can do. I won’t just throw all that experience overboard.’
‘There’s nothing else he’ll want to do,’ Young’s saying. Warning: you could only offend a man like Frank with the offer of a lesser role. He’s a gunman. Nothing else. If he accepts, it’ll only be because he, in turn, is scared of offending Jamieson.
‘I’ll talk to him, see what he says. You,’ he’s saying to Young, ‘need to keep your ear to the ground. The boy still isn’t properly committed to us. He’s good, but I don’t trust him yet. I won’t have him as our only option. Find another one. A good one. A trustworthy one. Someone young would be preferable. Someone from within would be ideal.’
He always does this. He always gives Young an unobtainable target and sends him out to find it. If they had someone in the organization who met all those criteria, Young would have identified him by now. To be fair to him, he doesn’t bitch if Young falls short. Jamieson knows he asks a lot, and is generally satisfied with how close to the mark Young gets. There are plenty of ambitious young men around. Never a shortage there. How many of them have the talent to back it up? A tiny minority. You have to find the one person who has what it takes. Sometimes that person belongs to someone else. You have to try to persuade them to cross over. It’s possible. A lot of people are attracted to working for Jamieson. It’s a well-run organization. An organization that rewards talent. People like that. They trust you more than they would a family business. Nobody wants to work for a firm where you have to be a family member to have a real chance of climbing the ladder.
Young’s out of the office, into the city. He always has people to meet. Make sure the business is ticking along nicely. Meet contacts, get information. Keep your ear to the ground–that’s what Jamieson said. But he’s going to tell Frank within the week. Which means they’ll be relying on Calum alone from then on. A good guy to rely on. Keeps doing well under pressure. Young has never worked with a gunman who’s had two absolute stinkers in succession and handled them so well. He’s a boy with talent. Jamieson’s right, though. Calum’s still not committed to them. Young told George to get closer to him. He did. He told George to get Calum settled down. He did. Got him a girlfriend, which was going too far. Still hasn’t settled him–not the way they want. He’s still reluctant to be a part of what they’re doing. He’s still a man who could walk away and leave them exposed.
Jamieson isn’t thinking about Calum. He’s not thinking about Young, either. He’s tapping the top of the desk with his forefinger. Telling himself he’s being stupid. He’s had to ditch people he liked before. It happens a lot in this business. You keep the ones you need, not the ones you like. It’s not as if Frank’s a father figure. He’s overreacting. He’s getting emotional about the job. That’s just damned unprofessional. You don’t need to like the people who work for you. You need to be able to trust them. That’s about it. Trust, maybe a little respect. Anything else is a bonus.
He got used to having Frank there. Likeable, trustworthy and utterly professional Frank. Too used to it. Complacent. Maybe it’s because Frank was a gunman. Such an important job. A job that requires so much trust. You get someone you trust and you cling to them. He didn’t even want to think about replacing Frank. You can replace an importer, or a dealer, even someone good at counterfeits. Replacing a gunman is hard and dangerous. He needs a pro. The only one he’s met and liked was Frank.