Ю Несбё - Macbeth

‘Because you always rate loyalty very high, don’t you?’

‘A police force cannot function without the loyalty of individuals. It’s a prerequisite.’

‘So how far does your loyalty to the force stretch?’

‘I’m a simple man, Duff, and I don’t understand what you mean.’

‘If you mean what you say about loyalty then you have to give us Malcolm. For the sake of the force.’

Duff pointed out into the grey soup of rain and mist in front of them. ‘For this town’s sake. Where is Duncan’s murderer hiding in Capitol?’

Banquo blew the ash from the cigarette end and put it in his coat pocket. ‘I know nothing about Malcolm. Fleance! Sorry, Inspector, but we’re going out to dinner.’

Duff ran after Banquo, who had walked down the three steps into the rain. ‘Speak to me, Banquo! I can see you’re weighed down by guilt and a bad conscience. You’re not an evil, cunning person. You’ve just been led into temptation by someone higher in rank than you by trusting their judgement. And so you’ve been betrayed. He has to be arrested, Banquo!’

‘Fleance!’ Banquo screamed in the direction of the house as he unlocked the car in the yard.

‘Do you want us to continue in this downward spiral into chaos and anarchy, Banquo? Our forefathers built railways and schools. We build brothels and casinos.’

Banquo got into the car and hooted the horn twice. The house door opened, and a suited Fleance emerged onto the steps struggling to open an umbrella.

Banquo cracked open the window, presumably because the car was misting up inside, and Duff put his hands on the window and tried to press it down further while talking through the narrow opening. ‘Listen, Banquo. If you do this, if you confess, there’s not a lot I can do for you, you know that. But I promise you no one will be allowed to hurt Fleance. His prospects won’t be those of a traitor’s son but those of the son of a man who sacrificed himself for the town. You have my word.’

‘Hi. Inspector Duff, isn’t it?’

Duff straightened up. ‘Hi, Fleance. That’s right. Have a nice dinner.’

‘Thanks.’

Duff waited until Fleance had got into the passenger’s seat and Banquo had started the engine. Then he set off for his car.

‘Duff!’

He turned.

Banquo had opened his door. ‘It’s not as you think,’ he shouted.

‘Isn’t it?’

‘No. Meet me by Bertha at midnight.’

Duff nodded.

The Volvo was put into gear, and father and son went through the gate into the mist.

Lady went up the last metal rungs of the ladder to the door leading to the flat roof of Inverness Casino. She opened it and stared into the darkness. All that could be heard was the mumbled whisper of the rain. It seemed that everything and everyone had secrets. She was about to turn and go back in when a crackle of lightning lit up the roof, and she saw him. He was standing by the edge of the roof and looking down into Thrift Street, at the back of the casino. Before she had persuaded the town council to clean it up, the prostitutes had stood there in the barely lit street and not only offered themselves but often performed their services right there, in the archways, in cars, on cars or up against walls. When the National Railway Network had been here it was said that the boss had had all the windows facing Thrift Street bricked up so that his subordinates could concentrate on work and not the filth outside.

She opened her umbrella and went over to Macbeth.

‘Out here getting wet, darling? I’ve been looking for you. The guests for dinner will be here soon.’ She looked down the smooth black windowless walls like a fortress that led down to Thrift Street. She knew every yard of the street. And that was reason enough to keep the windows bricked up.

‘What can you see down there?’

‘An abyss,’ he said. ‘Fear.’

‘My dearest, don’t be so gloomy.’

‘No?’

‘What would the point of all our victories be if they didn’t bring a smile to our lips?’

‘We’ve won only a couple of battles. The war has barely begun. And already I’m being consumed by this fear. God knows where it comes from. Give me an armed biker gang coming towards me rather than this serpent we’ve slashed at but haven’t killed.’

‘Stop it, my love. No one can catch us now.’

‘Duncan. I can see him down there. And I envy him. He’s dead — I’ve granted him peace — while all he gives me is anxiety and these nightmares.’

‘It’s brew, right? It’s brew that gives you nightmares.’

‘Darling...’

‘Do you remember what you said about Collum? You said brew drove people crazy. You have to stop taking it or you’ll lose everything we’ve won! Do you hear me? Not another grain of brew!’

‘But the nightmares aren’t a product of my imagination. The sergeant called me. The deal is done. Or have you forgotten the grave deed we have planned for this evening? Have you repressed the thought that my only father and best friend are going to be slaughtered?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about and nor do you. When what’s done is done, there’ll be nothing to brood over. And brew won’t give you consolation or courage. Now your soul will receive its reward. So no more brew! Put a tie on now, my love. And a smile.’ She took his hand. ‘Come on, let’s charm them to pieces.’

Caithness sat in an armchair with a glass of red wine in her hand listening to the rain on the attic window and Kite on the radio. He was talking about the problem of an acting chief commissioner in practice having more power than a democratically elected mayor, all because of Kenneth’s tampering with the town’s laws and statutes. She liked the way he rolled his ‘r’s and his calm voice. Liked the way he wasn’t afraid to shine with his knowledge and intelligence. But most of all she liked the way he was always against something. Against Kenneth, against Tourtell, yes, even against Duncan, who himself had been against so much. It had to be a lonely furrow. And who would want to be lonely if they had a choice?

She had occasionally wondered whether to send an anonymous letter to his radio station, saying how reassuring it was that there were still principled people like him, someone who took on the job of a lone, fearless watchdog. Speaking of which. Wasn’t that the second time she had heard that sound from the front door? She turned down the radio. Listened. There it was again. She crept over to the door and put her ear against it. A familiar creaking sound. She opened the door.

‘Duff. What are you doing?’

‘I... erm... am standing here. And thinking.’ He had his hands stuck deep down in his coat pockets and was rocking on his much-too-large shoes with the creaking soles.

‘Why didn’t you ring the bell?’

‘I have,’ Duff said. ‘I... The bell obviously doesn’t work.’

She opened the door wide, but he still seemed to be caught in two minds.

‘Why so glum, Duff?’

‘Am I glum?’

‘Sorry, I know there’s not much to be cheery about right now, but are you coming or going?’

His eyes flitted around. ‘Can I stay until midnight?’

‘Of course, but come in, will you? I’m cold.’

The sergeant rested his hands on the handlebars of his Honda CB450 ‘Black Bomber’. It was less than five years since he had bought it, and on good days he could squeeze a ton out of it. Nevertheless it felt a bit old now that the Honda CB750 superbike was on the market. He looked at his watch. Sixteen minutes to seven. The rush hour had subsided now, and darkness had fallen early. Waiting beside the road, he could see every single car that came towards the Gallows Hill junction. Sweno had sent them reinforcements from the club down south: three members, cousins they called them, had jumped on their bikes and arrived in town in less than three hours. They were sitting on their bikes, ready, by the pumps at the petrol station on the road along which the car was supposed to be coming. Appraising the models and number plates. Down the road, on the other side of the junction, he could see Colin standing on climbing irons up one of the posts by the junction box. The only entertainment they’d had so far was when they had done a trial run, and Colin had stuck a screwdriver in and turned. Brakes squealed on the road when the lights, without any warning, had changed from green to red. And seconds later, when they had changed back to green, engine revs had risen hesitantly and carefully, and cars crept across the junction while the sergeant flashed his headlights to signal to Colin that things were working as they should.