Ю Несбё - Macbeth

‘Did you demand so much in reality?’

‘I demanded acceptance from others. No, more — respect. Yes, and love. Those are gifts that are not granted to everyone, but I demanded to be one of the few. And the price is having to lose my child again and again, night after night.’

Jack nodded. ‘And if you could choose again, ma’am?’

Lady looked at him. ‘Perhaps we’re all, good or bad, only slaves of our desires, Jack. Do you believe that?’

‘I don’t know, ma’am, but with respect to slaves of desires I’ll check out this boy of Tourtell’s tomorrow.’

Macbeth exited the lift in the basement and stood for a couple of seconds inhaling the smell of leather, gun oil and male sweat. Looked at SWAT’s motto under a fire-breathing red dragon: LOYALTY, FRATERNITY, BAPTISED IN FIRE, UNITED IN BLOOD. My God, it felt like a minor eternity since then.

He walked through the door to the SWAT common room.

‘Olafson! Angus! Hey, what is this? Sit down, don’t jump up like a couple of recruits. Where’s Seyton?’

‘In there,’ Angus said in his unctuous priest-like tone. ‘Sad to hear about Banquo. The lads are collecting money for a wreath, but you probably aren’t—’

‘One of the boys any more? Of course I am.’ Macbeth pulled out his wallet. ‘Thought you were on sick leave, Olafson. Where’s the sling?’

‘Slung it.’ Olafson’s lisp made him sound Spanish. ‘The doctor thought I’d destroyed all the tendons in my shoulder and would never be able to shoot again. But then Seyton looked at it and suddenly it was fine again.’

‘There you go. Don’t trust doctors.’ Macbeth passed Olafson a wad of notes.

‘That’s too much, sir.’

‘Take it.’

‘It’s enough for a coffin.’

‘Take it!’

Macbeth went into his old office. Which wasn’t actually an office but a workshop with gun parts and ammunition on shelves and benches, where the typewriter had been moved unused to a chair.

‘Well?’ Macbeth said.

‘The boys are briefed,’ Seyton said, sitting with a thick instruction manual in front of him. ‘And ready.’

‘And our two Gatling girls?’ Macbeth nodded to the manual.

‘The machine guns are coming at about eight, early tomorrow morning. You spoke to the harbour master, I take it, so that the boat could jump the queue?’

‘We couldn’t have the girls coming late to the party. And there’ll be a little job for you lads later tomorrow.’

‘Fine. Where?’

‘In Fife.’

Thursday morning. Fife was bathed in sunshine.

Duff was swimming.

Full, muscular breaststroke, ploughing a path through the cold heavy water.

He had long preferred the saltwater of the river, it felt lighter to swim in. Which actually was strange because he had learned that saltwater gave you more buoyancy, which had to mean it had greater density, which in turn had to mean it was heavier than freshwater. Nevertheless, until recently he had preferred the river, which as well as being freezing cold was so polluted that he felt dirty every time he emerged from it. But now he was clean. He had got up early, done his exercises on the cold wooden floor beside the guest bed, made breakfast for the family, sung a little birthday song for Ewan, driven the children to school and afterwards walked with Meredith the half a mile or so down to the lake. She had talked about how many apples there were on the trees this autumn, their daughter getting her first love letter — though Meredith was privately very disappointed it was from a boy who was three years younger than her — and Emily wanting a guitar for her twelfth birthday. Ewan had been in a fight in the school playground and had brought home a note for his parents. He had agreed with Mum that he would have to tell Dad himself, but it could wait until after his birthday party today — there would be plenty of time then. Duff asked if postponing the evil moment wouldn’t mean Ewan would be dreading it for an unnecessarily long time.

‘I don’t know what he does most.’ Meredith smiled. ‘Look forward to something or dread it. The boy he had a fight with yesterday is in the class above him, and Ewan said the boy kicked little Peter first.’

‘Who?’

‘Ewan’s best friend.’

‘Oh, him,’ Duff lied.

‘Ewan said he was sorry but he had to defend his pal; Dad would have done the same. So he’s keen to hear what you have to say.’

‘I’ll have to be balanced then. Condemn his behaviour but praise his courage. Say something about taking the initiative to make up instead of waging war. Reconciliation, right?’

‘I’d appreciate that.’

And as he and Meredith glided out through the water Duff decided there and then that he would never swim anywhere except in their little lake in Fife.

‘Here it is,’ Meredith panted behind him.

Duff turned onto his back so that he could watch her while he floated, moving his hands and kicking his feet. His body was pale with a greenish tint under the water whereas hers, even in this light, was golden brown. He spent too much time in town; he had to get more sun.

She swam past him and crawled ashore onto a large water-smoothed rock.

Not any rock. Their rock. The rock where their daughter was conceived one summer’s day eleven years ago. They had come to Fife to escape the town and had found this lake almost by chance. They had stopped because they saw an abandoned little farm Meredith thought looked so sweet. And from there they saw the water glitter, walked for ten to fifteen minutes and found the lake. Although the only other creatures by the lake were a couple of cows, they had swum to this hidden rock across the water where it was unlikely anyone would see them. A month later Meredith had told him she was pregnant, and in total euphoria they went back, bought the house midway between the lake and the main road and after their second child, Ewan, was born, the plot by the lake where the cabin now stood.

Duff clambered up next to her on the rock. From where they sat they could see over to the red cabin.

He lay on his back on the sun-warmed rock. Closed his eyes and felt waves of pleasure run through his body. Sometimes it was worth getting cold to enjoy warming up afterwards, he thought.

‘Are you home again now, Duff?’

When you lose something and find it again, the pleasure is greater than before you lost it.

‘Yes,’ he said.

Her shadow fell over him.

And when they kissed he wondered why he now — and not before — thought a woman’s lips wetted by freshwater tasted better than wetted by saltwater, but concluded that it must be the body at some point telling you that freshwater can be drunk but not saltwater.

Afterwards when they lay entwined and sweaty from the sun and making love, he said he had to go to town.

‘Right. It’s broth at the usual time.’

‘I’ll be back in good time before. I just have to pick up Ewan’s present. It’s in the desk drawer in my office.’

‘He wanted the undercover cop outfit, didn’t he?’

‘Yes, and there’s one other thing I have to sort out ASAP.’

She stroked a finger down his forehead and nose. ‘Something come up?’

‘Yes and no. I should have sorted it out ages ago.’

‘In which case—’ her finger, which knew him so well, caressed his lips ‘—you do whatever you think you have to do. I’ll wait for you here.’

Duff sat up on his elbows and looked down at her. ‘Meredith.’

‘Yes?’

‘I love you.’

‘I know, Duff. You just forgot for a while.’

Duff smiled. Kissed her freshwater lips again and stood up. Went to dive in, then stopped. ‘Meredith?’

‘Yes?’

‘Did Ewan say who won the fight?’