Ю Несбё - Macbeth

Business wasn’t on her mind now though. Addiction was. And the fact that Macbeth hadn’t got here yet. He always said if he was going to be late. And what had happened during the Sweno raid had affected him. He didn’t say so, but she could sense it. Sometimes he was strangely soft-hearted, it seemed to her — a man she had seen kill with her own eyes. She had seen the calculated determination before the killing, the cold efficiency during it and the remorseless smile afterwards.

But this had been different, she knew. The man had been defenceless. And even if on occasion she had problems understanding the code of honour men like Macbeth upheld, she knew this sort of issue could cause him to lose his bearings. She crossed the floor, caught the stares of two men at the bar. Both younger than her. But they didn’t interest her. Although she had always done everything to feel desired she despised men who desired her. Apart from one man. It had surprised her at first that someone could fill her thoughts and heart so fully and completely. And often she had asked herself why she, who had never loved any man, loved this particular man. She had concluded it was because he loved that part of her which frightened other men. Her strength. Willpower. An intelligence that was superior to theirs and she couldn’t be bothered to hide under a bushel. It took a man to love that in a woman. She stood by the large window facing Workers’ Square, looked over towards Bertha, the black locomotive guarding the entrance to the disused station. To the swamp where, over the years, she had seen so many get stuck and sink. Could he—?

‘Darling.’

How many times had she heard this voice whisper this word in her ear? And yet every time was like the first. He lifted her long red hair to the side, and she felt currents run through her body as his lips touched her neck. It was unprofessional — she knew the two men at the bar were watching — but she let it go. He was here.

‘Where’ve you been?’

‘In my new office,’ he said, wrapping an arm around her midriff.

‘New office?’ She caressed his forearm. Felt the scar tissue under her fingertips. He had told her the reason the scars were there was because he’d had to inject in the dark and couldn’t see his veins, so he would feel his way to the wound from the previous injection and shoot up in the same spot. If you did that enough times, for several years, plus the unavoidable infection now and then, you ended up with forearms that looked like his, as though they had been dragged through barbed wire. But she couldn’t feel any fresh wounds. It was some years ago now. So long that sometimes — in fits of childlike optimism — she considered him cured.

‘I didn’t think you called those coal bins in the cellar offices.’

‘On the third floor,’ Macbeth said.

Lady turned to him. ‘What?’

His white teeth shone in his dark beard. ‘You see before you the new head of Organised Crime in this town.’

‘Is that true?’

‘Yes.’ He laughed. ‘And now you look as shocked as I imagine I did in Duncan’s office.’

‘I’m not shocked, my love. I’m... I’m just happy. It’s so deserved! Haven’t I kept telling you? Haven’t I said you’re worth more than that office in the basement?’

‘Yes, you have. Again and again, darling. But you were the only one.’ Macbeth leaned back and laughed again.

‘And now we’re going up, my love. Out of your cellar obscurity! I hope you demanded a good salary.’

‘Salary? No, I forgot to ask. My sole demand was that I had Banquo as my deputy, and they both agreed. It’s quite mad—’

‘Mad? Not at all. It’s a wise appointment.’

‘Not the appointment. On the way to HQ we met three sisters sent by Hecate, who prophesied I would get the job.’

‘Prophesied?’

‘Yes!’

‘They must have known.’

‘No. When I got to Duncan’s office he said the decision had been made just five minutes before.’

‘Hm. Witchcraft, nothing less.’

‘They were probably high on their own dope and talking nonsense. They said I’d be the chief commissioner, too. And do you know what? Duncan suggested we celebrate my appointment here, at the Inverness!’

‘Hang on a moment. What did they say?’

‘He wanted to celebrate it here. Wouldn’t the chief commissioner choosing to organise a party in your casino be good for your reputation?’

‘No, I mean the sisters. Did they say you’d be chief commissioner?’

‘Yes, but forget it, darling. I suggested to Duncan that we make an evening of it, and he and all the people who live out of town can stay overnight in the hotel. You’ve got quite a lot of unoccupied rooms at the moment, so...’

‘Of course we’ll do that.’ She stroked his cheek. ‘I can hear you’re happy, but you still look pale, my love.’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I think I’m sickening for something. I see dead men in traffic lights.’

She put a hand under his arm. ‘Come on. I’ve got what you need, my boy.’

He smiled. ‘Yes, you do.’

They sailed through the casino. She knew it was her high heels that made her half a head taller than him. Knew her young figure, elegant evening gown and stately, lissom walk made the men at the bar still stare after her. Knew this was something they didn’t have at the Obelisk.

Duff lay on the large double bed staring at the ceiling, at the crack in the paint he knew so well.

‘Afterwards, as I was leaving the meeting, Duncan took me aside and asked if I was disappointed,’ he explained. ‘He said we both knew I’d have been the natural candidate for the post.’

The crack had offshoots spreading in an apparently random way, but when he scrunched up his eyes, thereby losing focus, the crack seemed to follow a pattern, form an image. He just couldn’t work out what it was.

‘And what did you answer?’ came the voice over the running water in the bathroom. Even now, after having seen as much of each other as any two people can, she disliked him seeing her until she was ready. And that was fine by him.

‘I answered that, yes, I was disappointed. When he said they wanted Macbeth because he didn’t belong to the inner circle, my being one of those who had supported Duncan’s project right from the start was used against me.’

‘Well, that’s true. What did—?’

‘Duncan said there was another reason, but he didn’t want to mention it with the others present. The Sweno raid had only been partly successful as Sweno had got away. And it turned out I had received the tip-off so early that there would have been enough time to inform him. I had almost undone a year’s undercover work by what looked a lot like an ego trip. And Macbeth and SWAT had saved the whole operation. Therefore it would seem suspicious to choose me ahead of him. But at least he did give me a consolation prize.’

‘He gave you the Homicide Unit, and that’s not bad, is it?’

‘It’s smaller than Narco, but at least I escaped the humiliation of being a subordinate officer in Organised Crime.’

‘Who persuaded Duncan anyway?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Who argued Macbeth’s case? Duncan’s a listener; he likes consensus and goes for group decisions.’

‘Believe me, my dearest, no one lobbies for Macbeth. I doubt he knows what the word means. All he wants in life is to catch baddies and make sure his casino queen is happy.’

‘Speaking of which.’ She posed by the bathroom door. The gauzy negligee revealed more than it hid of course. Duff liked a lot about this woman, some things he wasn’t even able to articulate, but what he idolised was plain enough: her youth. The glow from the candles on the floor made the moisture in her eyes, on her red lips, on her shining teeth, sparkle. And yet tonight he needed something more. He wasn’t in the mood. After what had happened he didn’t feel like the buck he had been when he had started the day. But that could perhaps be changed.