Ю Несбё - Macbeth

‘I know the one you mean.’

‘They’ll be in a black Volvo at the lights some time between half past six and ten to seven. Probably at exactly a quarter to. He’s a punctual man.’

‘Hm. There are always a lot of patrol cars there.’

Macbeth smiled. ‘Not tonight there won’t be.’

‘Oh, really? I’ll think about it and give you an answer at four.’

Macbeth laughed. ‘ Sweno will think about it, you mean. Great. Pick up a pen, and I’ll give you my phone number and the registration number of the Volvo. And one more thing.’

‘Uhuh?’

‘I want their heads.’

‘Whose?’

‘The two cops. I want their heads. Delivered to the door.’

The sergeant stared at Macbeth as if he considered him insane.

‘The customer requires a receipt,’ Macbeth said. ‘Last time I ordered a hit job I didn’t ask for a receipt and that was an error. I didn’t get what I ordered.’

Late in the afternoon Duff made a decision.

His thoughts had been churning for hours in a brain where the traffic felt as slow-moving as that on the road in front of him and the way ahead as full of choices. They still hadn’t replaced the railings on Kenneth Bridge, so the traffic eastbound was being redirected to the old bridge and the queue backed up to District 2, where Duff’s car moved forward at a snail’s pace from junction to junction, which all threw up the question: left, right, straight ahead, what’s the fastest?

Duff’s own particular junction was this.

Should he go to Macbeth and the others with what he had found out on the quayside? Should he keep it to himself? But suppose the one-eyed boy wasn’t telling the truth or Banquo was able to deny the accusations? What would the consequences be for Duff if in this chaotic situation he made false accusations against Banquo, who, with Macbeth, had suddenly become a powerful figure?

Duff could of course simply present the information the way he had been given it and let Lennox and Macbeth evaluate it themselves, but then he would lose the chance to register a badly needed personal triumph by single-handedly arresting and unmasking Banquo.

On the other hand, he couldn’t afford another blunder after his raid on the container harbour. It had cost him the Organised Crime appointment; another blunder could easily cost him his job.

Another junction: Organised Crime would be up for grabs again if Macbeth became chief commissioner, and if Duff seized the opportunity now, dared and won, the unit could be his.

He had weighed up asking Caithness for her opinion, but then the cat would be out of the bag, he couldn’t play innocent and would be forced to do something . Take a risk.

The way he had chosen in the end was one where he didn’t risk much, but where he would still get the credit if it all went as he hoped.

Duff turned off the little railway bridge and into the yard in front of the modest brick building on the other side. It had taken him more than three quarters of an hour to cover the short distance from HQ to Banquo’s address.

‘Duff,’ said Banquo, who opened the door seconds after Duff had rung the bell. ‘What gives?’

‘A party by the looks of it,’ Duff said.

‘Yes, and that’s why I can’t decide whether to take this or not.’ Banquo held up the holster with his service gun.

‘Leave it behind. It’ll only make a bulge in your suit. But that tie knot is no good.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Banquo said, pressing his chin down against his white shirt collar in a futile attempt to see the knot. ‘It’s been good enough for fifty years, ever since I was confirmed.’

‘That’s a poor man’s knot, Banquo. Come on, let me show you...’

Banquo warded off Duff’s helping hand by covering the knot. ‘I am a poor man, Duff. And I assume you came here to get help, not offer it.’

‘That’s true enough, Banquo. Can I come in?’

‘I’d have liked to offer you help and coffee, but I’m afraid we’re on our way out.’ Banquo put his gun holster on the hat shelf behind him and called up the stairs: ‘Fleance!’

‘Coming!’ was the response.

‘We can go outside in the meantime,’ Banquo said, buttoning up his coat.

They stood on the covered white steps. Rain gurgled cheerily down from the gutters while Banquo offered Duff a cigarette and lit his own when the inspector declined.

‘I was back in the container harbour today,’ Duff said. ‘I met a boy, one of our young drug addicts, who wanted to talk to me. He’s got only one eye. He told me how he lost the other one.’

‘Mmhm.’

‘He’d been driven crazy with his craving for dope but was broke. Down at central station he met an old man and begged him for some money. The old man had a walking stick with a gold tip.’

‘Hecate?’

‘The old man stopped, took out a bag which he dangled in front of the boy and said it was top-quality brew straight from the pot. The boy could have it if he would do two things for him. The first was to answer the question: which sense would you be most afraid to lose? When the boy replied it would be his eyesight, the old man said he wanted one of his eyes.’

‘That was Hecate.’

‘When the boy asked the old man why he wanted his eye, Hecate answered that he had everything, so all that was left for him was what was most valuable to the buyer, not to himself. And after all it was only half his eyesight, well, not even that. And think how much more valuable his second eye would be afterwards. Indeed loss and gain would almost be equal.’

‘I don’t understand that.’

‘Maybe not, but that’s the way some people are. They desire power itself more than what it can give them. They’d rather own a worthless tree than the edible fruit that grows on it. Just so that they can point to it and say, “That’s mine.” And then cut it down.’

Banquo blew out a cloud of smoke. ‘What did the boy decide to do?’

‘He was helped by a man-woman, who was with the old man, to take out the eye. And when he got his shot afterwards all the pain he had ever known was gone — it smoothed all the scars, removed all the bad memories. The boy said it was so wonderful that even today he can’t say he has any regrets. He’s still chasing after it, the perfect shot.’

‘And what was he after today when you met him?’

‘The same. Plus the person who had taken his eye just because he could.’

‘He’ll have to take his place in the queue of Hecate-chasers.’

‘He was thinking instead that he would help us catch Hecate.’

‘And how would a poor brew slave do that?’

‘Malcolm’s so-called suicide letter tries to finger the Norse Riders. But the boy thinks Hecate’s behind everything. Both the letter and the murder of Duncan. And Hecate’s in league with Malcolm. And perhaps others in the force.’

‘A popular theory nowadays.’Banquo flicked the ash off the cigarette and looked at his watch. ‘Was he paid for that?’

‘No,’ Duff said. ‘He wasn’t paid for anything until he told me he’d seen Malcolm down on the quay before he went missing. And he’d been with you.’

The cigarette on its way to Banquo’s mouth stopped. He laughed. ‘Me? I don’t believe it.’

‘He described you and your car.’

‘Neither I nor my car was there. And I find it difficult to believe you could have paid public money for such a claim. So which of you is bluffing? This junkie then or you now?’

A gust of cold wind blew, and Duff shivered. ‘The boy says he saw Malcolm and an older man he’d seen with Macbeth. A Volvo saloon.And a gun. Wouldn’t you have paid for that information, Banquo?’

‘Only if I was desperate.’ Banquo stubbed his cigarette out on the iron railing which flanked the steps. ‘And not even then if it concerned a police colleague.’