Ю Несбё - Macbeth

‘Not all uncles can take on...’ Macbeth frowned as he stood behind her. ‘You mean Duff and Caithness...?’

‘Dear Macbeth, my hero, you are and will always be a simple man without a woman’s eye for how two secretly enamoured people look at each other.’

Macbeth blinked into the darkness. Then he put his arms around her, closed his eyes and pulled her to him. How would he have survived without her? ‘Only when we two stand in front of the mirror,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘Thank you, darling. Go to bed now and I’ll tell Lennox to go to Caithness’s at once.’

‘It’s back,’ she said.

‘What is?’

‘The electricity. Look. Our town is lit up again.’

Macbeth opened his eyes and looked at her illuminated face. Looked down at both of their bodies. They glowed red from the neon Bacardi lights on the building across Thrift Street.

‘Lennox?’ Caithness was already so frozen that her teeth were chattering as she stood with her arms crossed in the doorway to her flat. ‘Police Officer Seyton?’

‘ Inspector Seyton,’ the lean policeman said, pushed her aside and went in.

‘What’s this about?’ she asked.

‘I’m sorry, Caithness,’ Lennox said. ‘Orders. Is Duff here?’

‘Duff? Why on earth would he be here?’

‘And why on earth would you say yes?’ Seyton said, directing the four machine-gun-toting men in SWAT uniforms to the four rooms in the flat. ‘If he’s here it’s because you’re hiding him. You know very well he’s a wanted man.’

‘Feel free,’ she said.

‘Thank you so much for your permission,’ Seyton said acidly. Studying her in a way that made her wish she had more on than her thin nightdress. Then he smiled. Caithness shuddered. His mouth arced up behind his slightly slanting eyes, making him look like a snake.

‘Are you trying to hold us up?’ he said.

‘Hold you up?’ she said, hoping he didn’t notice the fear in her voice.

‘Sir?’ It was one of the men. ‘There’s a door to a fire escape here.’

‘Oh, is there?’ Seyton intoned without taking his eyes off Caithness. ‘Interesting. So when we rang your doorbell down on the street you let the cat out through the flap, did you?’

‘Not at all,’ she said.

‘You are of course familiar with the penalty for lying to the police — in addition to that for hiding a criminal?’

‘I am not lying, Police Officer Seyton.’

‘ Inspec —’ He paused, regained his smile. ‘This is SWAT you’re dealing with, Miss Caithness. We know our job. Such as examining the drawings of buildings before we enter.’ He lifted his walkie-talkie to his mouth. ‘Alpha to Charlie. Any sign of Duff by the fire escape door? Over.’

The brief sibilance when he pressed the button of the walkie-talkie made her think of waves lapping on a beach somewhere far far away.

‘Not yet, Alpha,’ came the answer. ‘Conditions for a controlled arrest are good here, so can we confirm that the object should be shot on sight? Over.’

Caithness saw Seyton’s eyes harden and heard his voice sharpen. ‘Duff’s dangerous. The order comes straight from the chief commissioner and must be followed to the letter.’

‘Roger. Over and out.’

The four men came back into the sitting room. ‘He’s not here, sir.’

‘Nothing?’

‘I found this lying on the bedroom floor by the door to the fire escape.’ One of them held up a tennis racket and jewellery.

Seyton took the racket and leaned over the hand holding the jewellery. To Caithness it looked as if he was sniffing them. Then he turned back to her holding the handle of the racket in an obscene way.

‘Big racket for a little hand like yours, Miss Caithness. And do you make a habit of throwing your earrings on the floor?’

Caithness straightened. Breathed in. ‘I think it’s a common habit, Police Officer. Casting pearls before swine. But in time one learns, hopefully. If you’ve finished looking and the cat on the stairs has been executed, I’d like to go back to sleep. Goodnight, gentlemen.’

She saw Seyton’s eyes go black and his mouth open, but he held his tongue when Lennox placed a hand on his shoulder.

‘We apologise for the disturbance, Caithness. But as a colleague you will understand that absolutely no stone must be left unturned in this case.’

Lennox and the rest headed towards the front door, but Seyton stood his ground. ‘Even if we don’t always like the filth we find under them,’ he said. ‘So he didn’t buy you a wedding ring then, I suppose?’

‘What do you want, Seyton?’

His repulsive smile returned. ‘Yes, what do we want?’

Then he turned and left.

She closed the door behind him. Pressed her back against it. Where was Duff? Where was he last night? And what did she wish for him? The hell he had to be in or the redemption he didn’t deserve?

Lennox stared through the rain pouring down the windscreen. The refracted light made the red traffic lights blur and distort. God, how he longed to get these hours, this shift, this night over and done with. God, how he longed to relax in his sitting room, pour himself a glass of whisky and inject some brew. He wasn’t addicted. Not to the extent that it was a problem anyway. He was a user, not a misuser; he was in control, not the dope. One of the lucky few who could take drugs and still function in a demanding job as well as be a father and a husband. Yes, dope did actually help him to function. Without the breaks at work he wasn’t sure he would have managed. Balancing everything, watching his step. Making compromises where he had to, eating shit with a smile, not rocking the boat, understanding who was in charge, bending with the wind. But one day it would probably be his turn to take charge. And if it wasn’t, other things were more important. His family — that was who he was working for. So that he and Sheila could have a spacious house in a safe neighbourhood in the west of town, send their three lovely kids to a good school with healthy values, take a well-deserved Mediterranean holiday once a year, cover the health insurance, dentist and all that kind of thing. God, how he loved his family. Sometimes he would put down the newspaper and just look at them sitting in the lounge, all of them busy, and then he would think, This is a gift I never thought I would have the good fortune to receive. The love of others. He, the one they called Albert Albino, was beaten up in every school break until he got a doctor’s note saying he couldn’t tolerate daylight and had to stay in the classroom alone during breaks. White, small and delicate he may have been, but he had a big mouth on him. That was how he had got Sheila — he talked loudly and volubly for both of them. And even more when he had tried cocaine for the first time. It was coke that had made him a better version of himself, energetic, dogged and unafraid. At least for a while. Later it had become a necessity so that he wouldn’t become a bad version of himself. Then he had changed drug in the hope that there was another way other than the dead-end street that cocaine was. Maximum one shot a day. No more. Some needed five. The dysfunctional. He was a long way from that. His father was wrong, he did have a spine. He had control.

‘Everything under control?’

Lennox started. ‘Eh?’

‘Your list,’ Seyton said from the back seat. ‘What’s left?’

Lennox yawned. ‘HQ. That’s the last stop.’

‘Police HQ’s massive.’

‘Yes, but according to the caretaker Duff has only three keys. One for Narco and one for Homicide.’

‘And the third?’

‘The Forensics garage. But I hardly think he’d want to catch pneumonia in the cellar if he can hide under a table in a warm dry office.’