Ю Несбё - Macbeth

Duff’s breathing came in gasps. And then came a sob. One single, bitter, raging sob.

Everything was lost.

Absolutely everything was lost.

Duff remained standing in the doorway. Saw the blanket on the bed. He knew it wouldn’t help if he waded into the feathers; all he would do was contaminate the crime scene and potentially destroy the evidence. But he had to cover them up. Cover them up for a last time, they couldn’t stay like that. He stepped inside, then stopped.

He had heard a sound. A shout.

He backed out and strode into the sitting room, over to the smashed window facing south-east, towards the lake. There was the cry again. So far away he couldn’t see who was shouting, but sound carried well out there in the afternoon. The voice sounded angry. It had repeated the same word, but Duff couldn’t make out what it was. He pulled out the remains of a chest drawer, took out the binoculars kept there, focused on the cabin. One lens of the binoculars was pierced, but the other was good enough for him to see a fair-haired man hurrying towards the house on the narrow road. Behind him, in front of the cabin, stood a lorry, on the back of which was a man whose face he recognised. Seyton. He was standing between what looked like two enormous meat-mincers on stands. Duff remembered Macbeth’s words. Stay in bed for two days at least... an order . Macbeth had known. Known that Duff was about to reveal that he had killed Duncan. Lennox . Lennox, the traitor. There was no judge from Capitol coming to town tomorrow.

Duff saw Seyton’s mouth moving before the sound reached him. The same furious word: ‘Angus!’

Duff moved back from the window so that the glass in the binoculars wouldn’t reflect the sun and give him away. He had to escape.

As darkness fell over the town, news of the massacre at the Norse Riders’ club house was already spreading. And at nine o’clock most of the town’s journalists, TV and radio crews were gathered in Scone Hall. Macbeth stood in the wings listening to Lennox welcome them to the press conference.

‘We would ask you not to use flash until the chief commissioner has finished, and please ask questions by raising a hand and speaking. And now here is this proud town’s chief commissioner, Macbeth.’

This introduction — and possibly the rumours of the victory over the Norse Riders in the battle at the club house — were cause enough for a couple of the less experienced journalists to clap when Macbeth appeared on the podium, but the thin applause died under the eloquent gazes of the more seasoned members of the audience.

Macbeth walked up to the lectern. No, he took the lectern by force , that was how it felt. It was strange that this — speaking to an audience — was what he had feared most; now he didn’t just like it, he longed for it, he needed it. He coughed, looked down at his papers. Then he started.

‘Today the police carried out two armed operations against those behind the recent murders of our officers, among them Chief Commissioner Duncan. I’m pleased to say that the first operation, given the circumstances, was one-hundred-per-cent successful. The criminal gang known as the Norse Riders has ceased to exist.’ A single hurrah from the audience broke the silence. ‘This was a planned action based on new information that emerged after the release of some Norse Rider members. The circumstances were that the Norse Riders fired shots at SWAT, and we had no choice but to hit back hard.’

A shout from the back of the hall: ‘Is Sweno among the dead?’

‘Yes,’ said Macbeth. ‘He is indeed one of the bodies that cannot be identified because of the comprehensive nature of his injuries, but I think you all recognise this...’ Macbeth held up a shiny sabre. More hurrahs, and now some of the more experienced journalists joined in the spontaneous applause. ‘And with it an era is over. Fortunately.’

‘There are rumours that women and children are among the dead.’

‘Yes and no,’ Macbeth said. ‘Adult women who had chosen to associate with the club, yes. Many of them have what we might call a sullied record and none of them did anything to stop the Norse Riders firing at us. As for children, that’s just nonsense. There were no innocent victims here.’

‘You mentioned a second operation. What was that?’

‘It took place out of town, in Fife, straight after the first, in a relatively deserted area, so you may not have heard about it, but this was an attempt to arrest someone we now know had been working with the Norse Riders for some time. It is of course regrettable that such an officer could be found within our ranks, but it also proves that Chief Commissioner Duncan was not infallible when he handed the Narcotics Unit and later the Homicide Unit to this man, Inspector Duff. And we’re not infallible either. We considered his family and assumed he would do the same and give himself up. So when we arrived, Police Officer Seyton, the head of SWAT, went towards the house and asked Duff to come out alone and give himself up. Duff responded by shooting at Seyton.’

He nodded towards Seyton, who was standing under the light by the door at the front of the hall so that everyone could see him with his arm in a sling.

‘Luck would have it that the shot wasn’t fatal. Police Officer Seyton soon received medical attention and there’s every chance that he’ll escape permanent injury. However, despite the seriousness of his injury, Police Officer Seyton led the attack. Unfortunately, Duff, in his desperation and cowardice, chose to use his family as a shield, with the tragic result that they paid with their lives, while Duff managed to escape from the back of the house and make a getaway in his car. He’s a wanted man, and we have commenced a search. I promise to you here and now that we will find and punish Duff. Incidentally, let me use this opportunity to announce that we’ll soon be able to address Police Officer Seyton as Inspector Seyton.’

More joined in the applause this time. Once it had died down there was a cough, and a voice with rolled ‘r’s said, ‘This is all very well, Macbeth, but where is the evidence—’ the questioner pronounced ‘ evidence ’ slowly with ultra-clear diction as though it were a difficult foreign word ‘—against the people you have mown down?’

‘As far as the Norse Riders are concerned, we have witnesses who saw them shooting at Banquo’s car, and we have fingerprints on and inside the car, also blood on Banquo’s seat identical to the types of some of those found dead in the club house this evening. Forensics can also confirm that fingerprints found on the inside of the windscreen, on the driver’s side, match those of—’ Macbeth paused ‘—Inspector Duff.’

A ripple went through the hall.

‘At this juncture I’d like to praise the SOC officers. Duff went to the crime scene just after the murder. This was odd as no one at Homicide had been able to get hold of Duff to inform him of the murder. Obviously he turned up with the intention of erasing his fingerprints and other clues he must have known he’d left behind. But the Forensics Unit didn’t let anyone, no one at all, go near the body and contaminate the evidence. Personally, I can add that my suspicion that Duff was working with the Norse Riders grew during the raid on the container harbour. Both the Narcotics Unit and we at SWAT had received such a clear tip-off that Duff couldn’t have ignored it without arousing suspicion that he was protecting them. Duff cleverly set up a raid that was doomed to fail, with inexperienced officers from his own unit in insufficient numbers, without seeking the assistance of SWAT, which is the normal procedure in such cases. Luckily the raid came to our attention, so SWAT reacted independently, and I think I can say without blowing our own trumpet that this was the start of the Norse Riders’ and Duff’s downfall. The Norse Riders and Inspector Duff dug their own graves when they avenged the loss of the drugs consignment and five of their members by killing first Duncan and then Banquo and his son. And this is, incidentally, the last time I will mention Duff by rank, which in our police force is considered an honour regardless of whether it is the highest or the lowest.’ Macbeth noticed to his dismay that the slightly tremulous indignation in his voice was genuine, completely genuine.