Ю Несбё - Macbeth

‘Why drowning, Banquo?’

‘Eh?’

‘Shooting me in the car and making it look like suicide would be easier.’

Banquo shrugged. ‘There are many ways to skin a cat. The crime scene is underwater. No traces if they suspect murder. And drowning is nicer. Like going to sleep.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘I know. I almost drowned twice in my youth.’

The barrel of Banquo’s gun had sunk a fraction. Malcolm estimated the distance between them.

Malcolm swallowed. ‘Why did you almost drown, Banquo?’

‘Because I grew up on the east side of town and never learned to swim. Isn’t it funny that here in a town on the edge of the sea there are people who die if they fall in? So I tried to teach my boy to swim. The odd thing is he didn’t learn either. Perhaps because it was a non-swimmer trying to teach him. If we sink, they sink, that’s how our fates are passed on. But people like you can swim, Malcolm.’

‘Hence the chains, I assume.’

‘Yes.’ The gun barrel was raised again. The hesitation was gone and the determination back in Banquo’s eyes. Malcolm took a deep breath. The chance had been there and now it wasn’t.

‘Good people or not,’ Banquo said, ‘you have the buoyancy we lack. And I have to be sure you will stay under the water. And never rise to the surface again. If you don’t I won’t have done my job. Do you understand?’

‘Understand?’

‘Give me your police badge.’

Malcolm took the brass badge from his jacket pocket and gave it to Banquo, who immediately threw it. It flew over the edge of the quay, hit the water and sank. ‘It’s brass. It’s shiny but will sink right to the bottom. That’s gravity, sir, it drags everything with it into the mud. You have to disappear, Malcolm. Disappear for ever.’

In the meeting room Macbeth looked at his watch. Twenty-nine minutes past six. The door opened again, and a person Macbeth recognised as Lennox’s assistant stuck her head in, said it still wasn’t possible to get in contact with Malcolm; all they knew was he arrived at HQ, turned round in the garage and left, and no one, not even his daughter Julia, knew where he was.

‘Thanks, Priscilla,’ Lennox said and turned to the others. ‘Then I think we should start this meeting by—’

Macbeth knew this was the moment. The moment Lady had spoken about, the moment of the leadership void, when everyone would unconsciously regard the person who took the initiative as the new leader. For that reason his interruption came over loud and clear.

‘Excuse me, Lennox.’ Macbeth turned to the door. ‘Priscilla, could you organise a search for Malcolm and his car? For the time being, radio only patrol cars. And phrase it as low key as possible. HQ wishes to contact him ASAP. That kind of thing, thank you.’ He turned to the others. ‘Sorry to requisition your assistant, Lennox, but I think most of us here share my unease. OK, let’s start the meeting. Anyone object if I chair it until Malcolm arrives?’

He scanned the table. Caithness. Lennox. Duff. Saw how they had to think before they concluded what Lennox said stiffly after a clearing of the throat: ‘You’re the next in command, Macbeth. Away you go.’

‘Thank you, Lennox. Would you mind, by the way, closing the window behind you? Let’s start with the bodyguards. Has Anti-Corruption got anything there?’

‘Not yet,’ Lennox said, trying to close the latches. ‘There’s nothing to suggest irregularities or anything one might deem suspicious. In fact, the lack of irregularities is the only suspicious thing.’

‘Nothing suspicious, new connections, no sudden purchasing of luxury goods or bank account movements?’

Lennox shook his head. ‘They seem as clean as shining armour.’

‘My guess is they were clean,’ Duff said. ‘But even the cleanest knights can be poisoned and corrupted if you can find the chink in their armour. And Hecate found that gap.’

‘Then we can, too,’ Macbeth said. ‘Keep searching, Lennox.’

‘I will.’ His tone suggested a space for sir at the end. It wasn’t spoken, but everyone had heard it.

‘You mentioned you spoke to the undercover guys in your old section, Duff?’

‘They say the murder came as a shock to everyone working on the street. No one knew anything. But everyone takes it as a foregone conclusion that Hecate’s behind it. A young guy down at the central station mentioned something about a police officer asking for dope — I don’t know if it was one of our undercover drugs men, but it definitely wasn’t either of the bodyguards. We’ll continue to look for clues that could lead us to where Hecate is. But it’s — as we know — at least as hard as finding Sweno.’

‘Thanks, Duff. Crime scene investigation, Caithness?’

‘Predicted finds,’ she said, looking at the notes in front of her. ‘We’ve identified various fingerprints in the deceased’s room and they match those of the three maids, the bodyguards and those who were in the room — Lady, Macbeth and Duff. As well as a set of prints we couldn’t identify for a while, but now we have a match with the prints of the previous occupants of the room. So when I say predicted finds that’s not exactly true; usually hotel rooms are full of unidentified fingerprints.’

‘The owner of the Inverness takes cleaning very seriously,’ Macbeth said drily.

‘Pathology confirms that the direct cause of death was two stab wounds. The wounds match the daggers that were found. And although the daggers were cleaned on the sheet and the bodyguards’ own clothing there was still more than enough blood on the blades and handles to establish it came from the deceased.’

‘Can we say Duncan?’ Macbeth asked. ‘Instead of deceased.’

‘As you wish. One dagger is bloodier than the other as it was the one that cut the dece— erm Duncan’s carotid artery, hence the splash of blood over the duvet, as you can see on this photograph.’ Caithness pushed a black-and-white photo into the middle of the table, which the others dutifully examined. ‘Full autopsy report will be ready tomorrow morning. We can say more then.’

‘ More about what?’ Duff asked. ‘What he had for dinner? As we all know, we had the same. Or what illnesses he had that he didn’t die of? If we’re going to keep up the pace it’s essential now that we focus on information that’s important.’

‘An autopsy,’ Caithness said, and Macbeth noticed the quiver in her voice, ‘can confirm or deny the assumed sequence of events. And I’d assume that was pretty important.’

‘It is, Caithness,’ Macbeth said. ‘Anything else?’

She showed some more photos, talked about other medical and technical evidence, but none of it pointed in a direction that was different from the general consensus around the table: that the two bodyguards had killed Duncan. There was also agreement that the guards didn’t seem to have a motive, therefore other forces must have been behind the murder, but the consequent discussion about whether anyone else apart from Hecate could have been responsible was brief and unproductive.

Macbeth suggested postponing the press conference until ten o’clock pending the location and briefing of Malcolm. Lennox pointed out that nine was a better time for the press as they had early deadlines on a Sunday.

‘Thank you, Lennox,’ Macbeth said. ‘But our agenda is what counts and not sales figures early tomorrow.’

‘I think that’s stupid,’ Lennox said. ‘We’re the new management team, and it’s unwise to make ourselves unpopular with the press at the very first opportunity.’

‘Your view has been noted,’ Macbeth said. ‘Unless Malcolm appears and says anything to the contrary, we meet here at nine and go through what has to be said at the press conference.’