Ю Несбё - Macbeth

There was a moment’s silence around the table. Had he gone too far the other way, suggesting that he didn’t have opinions of his own?

‘We have to be absolutely one hundred per cent certain that the person is not corrupt,’ Duncan said.

‘Of course,’ Duff said.

‘Not only because we can’t afford any similar scandals such as this one with Cawdor, but because we need someone who can help us to catch the really big fish. And I’m not talking Sweno but Hecate.’

Hecate. The silence in the room after articulating the name spoke volumes.

Duff straightened up in his chair. This was indeed a big mission. But it was clear this was what the job demanded: slaying the dragon. And it was magnificent. For it started here. Life as a different, better man.

‘You led this successful attack on the Norse Riders,’ Duncan said.

‘I didn’t do it on my own, sir,’ Duff said. It paid dividends to show a bit of humility, and especially in situations where it wasn’t required; it was precisely then you could afford to be humble.

‘Indeed,’ Duncan said. ‘Macbeth helped you. Quite a lot, I understand. What’s your general impression of him?’

‘Impression, sir?’

‘Yes, you were in the same year at police college. He’s undoubtedly done a good job with SWAT, and everyone there is enthusiastic about his leadership qualities. But of course SWAT is a very specialised unit. You know him, and that’s why we’d like to hear whether you believe Macbeth could be the man for the job.’

Duff had to swallow twice before he could get his vocal cords to produce a sound. ‘If Macbeth could be the man to lead the Organised Crime Unit, you mean?’

‘Yes.’

Duff needed a couple of seconds. He placed a hand over his mouth, lowered his eyebrows and forehead and hoped this made him look like a deep thinker — not a deeply disappointed man.

‘Well, Duff?’

‘It’s one thing leading men in a raid on a house, shooting criminals and saving hostages,’ Duff said. ‘And Macbeth’s good at that without any doubt. Leading an organised crime unit requires slightly different qualifications.’

‘We agree,’ Duncan said. ‘It requires slightly different and not completely different qualifications. Leading is leading. What about the man’s character? Is he trustworthy?’

Duff squeezed his top lip between thumb and first finger. Macbeth. Bloody Macbeth! What should he say? This promotion belonged to him, Duff, and not some guy who could equally well have ended up as a juggler or knife thrower in a travelling circus! He focused his gaze on the painting on the wall behind the desk. Marching, loyalty, leadership and solidarity. He could see them in his mind’s eye on the country road: Macbeth, himself, the two dead men. The rain washing the blood away.

‘Yes,’ Duff said. ‘Macbeth is trustworthy. But above all he’s a craftsman. That was perhaps clear from his performance on the podium today.’

‘Agreed,’ Duncan said. ‘That was why I got him up there, to see how he would tackle it. Around the table we agreed unanimously that what he demonstrated today was an excellent example of a practitioner’s respect for established reporting routines, but also a true leader’s ability to enthuse and inspire. Cawdor’s still hanging there because he was a corrupt policeman .’

Muted laughter around the table at Duncan’s imitation of Macbeth’s rough working-class dialect.

‘If he really has these qualities,’ Duff said, hearing an inner voice whispering that he shouldn’t say this, ‘you have to ask yourself why he hasn’t got further since his police college years.’

‘True enough,’ Lennox said. ‘But this is one of the strongest arguments in favour of Macbeth.’ He laughed — an ill-timed, high-pitched trill. ‘None of us sitting round this table had high posts under the last chief commissioner. Because we, like Macbeth, weren’t in on the game, we refused to take bribes. I have sources who can say with total certainty that this stalled Macbeth’s career.’

‘Then you have answered the question already,’ Duff said stiffly. ‘And of course you’ve taken into consideration his relationship with the casino owner.’

Malcolm glanced at Duncan. Received a nod from him in return and spoke up. ‘The Fraud Unit’s now looking into businesses that were allowed to prosper under the previous administration and, with respect to that, they’ve just carried out a thorough investigation of Inverness Casino. Their conclusion is unambiguous: the Inverness is run in exemplary fashion with regard to accounts, tax and employment conditions. Which is not a matter you can take for granted in gambling joints. At this moment they’re taking a closer look at the Obelisk’s—’ he smiled wryly ‘—cards. And let me say quite openly that this is a different kettle of fish. To be continued, as they say. So, in other words, we have no objections to Lady and her establishment.’

‘Macbeth’s from the east end of town and an outsider,’ Duncan said, ‘while all of us around this table are considered to belong to an inner circle. We’re known to have stood up to Kenneth, we represent a change of culture in the force, but we’ve also had private educations and come from privileged homes. I think it’s a good signal to send. In the police, in our police force, everyone can get to the top, whatever background, whatever connections they have, as long as they work hard and are honest, with emphasis on the honest .’

‘Good thinking, sir,’ Lennox said.

‘Fine.’ Duncan brought his hands together. ‘Duff, anything you’d like to add?’

Haven’t you seen the scars on his arms?

‘Duff?’

Haven’t you seen the scars on his arms?

‘Anything wrong, Duff?’

‘No, sir. I have nothing to add. I’m sure Macbeth is a good choice.’

‘Good. Then let me thank all of you for attending this meeting.’

Macbeth stared at the red traffic lights as the wipers went to and fro across the windscreen of Banquo’s Volvo PV544. The car was as small as Banquo, a good deal older than the others around them, but fully functional and reliable. There was something about the design of the car, especially the set-back bonnet and protruding lower front, that made it look a bit like a throwback to before the war. But internally and under the bonnet, according to its owner, it had everything a man could demand of a modern car. The wipers struggled to dispose of the rain, and the running water reminded Macbeth of melting glass. A boy in a wet coat ran across the road in front of them, and Macbeth saw the light for pedestrians had changed from a green man to red. A human body covered with blood from head to toe. Macbeth shuddered.

‘What is it?’ Banquo asked.

‘I think I’m getting a temperature,’ Macbeth said. ‘I keep seeing things.’

‘Visions and signs,’ Banquo said. ‘It’s flu then. No wonder. Soaked all day yesterday and bitten by a dog today.’

‘Talking about the dog, have we found out where it came from?’

‘Only that it wasn’t Cawdor’s. It must have come in through the open veranda door. I was wondering how it died.’

‘Didn’t I tell you? Seyton killed it.’

‘I know that, but I couldn’t see any marks on it. Did he strangle it?’

‘I don’t know. Ask him.’

‘I did, but he didn’t give me a proper answer, just—’

‘It’s green, Dad.’ The boy on the back seat leaned forward between the two men. Macbeth glanced at the lanky nineteen-year-old. Fleance had inherited more of his mother’s modesty than his father’s good-natured joviality.

‘Who’s driving, you or your dad, son?’ Banquo said with a warm smile and accelerated. Macbeth looked at the people on the pavement, the housewives shopping, the unemployed men outside the bars. In the last ten years the town had become busier and busier in the mornings. It should have lent the town an atmosphere of hustle and bustle, but the opposite was true, the apathetic, resigned faces were more reminiscent of the living dead. He had searched for signs of change over recent months. To see whether Duncan’s leadership had made any difference. The most glaring and brutal street crimes were perhaps rarer, probably because there were more patrols out. Or maybe they had simply shifted to the back streets, into the twilight areas.