Ю Несбё - Macbeth

He closed his eyes. Bit of a rest. Bit of decent weather.

He sensed someone was there, standing over him and breathing on him. He opened his eyes. It was Sheila.

‘Didn’t you hear me shouting?’ she said.

‘What?’

‘There’s a phone call for you. Some Inspector Seyton.’

Lennox went into the hall, picked up the receiver from the table. ‘Hello?’

‘Home early, Lennox? I’ll need some help this evening.’

‘I’m not well. You’d better try someone else.’

‘The chief commissioner said to take you.’

Lennox swallowed. His mouth tasted of lead. ‘Take me where?’

‘To a hospital. Be ready in an hour. I’ll pick you up.’ There was a click. Lennox had rung off. Lead.

‘What is it?’ Sheila called from the kitchen.

A pale metal shaped by its environment, which poisons and kills, a heavy but unresisting material that melts at three hundred and fifty degrees.

‘Nothing, sweetheart. Nothing.’

Macbeth woke from a dream about death. There was a knock at the door. Something about the knocking told him it had been going on for a long time.

‘Sir!’ It was Jack’s voice.

‘Yes,’ Macbeth grunted, looking around. The room was flooded with daylight. What was the time? He had been dreaming. Dreaming he had been standing over the bed with a dagger in his hand. But whenever he blinked the face on the pillow changed.

‘It’s Inspector Caithness on the phone, sir. She says it’s urgent.’

‘Put her through,’ Macbeth said, rolling over towards the bedside table. ‘Caithness?’

‘Sorry to ring you on a Saturday, but we’ve found a body. I’m afraid we’ll have to ask you to help.’ She sounded out of breath.

‘Why’s that?’

‘Because we think it could be Fleance, Banquo’s son. The body is in a bad way, and as he has no close relatives in town it seems you’re the best person to identify him.’

‘Oh,’ Macbeth said, feeling his throat tighten.

‘Sorry?’

‘Yes, I suppose I am,’ Macbeth said and pulled the duvet tighter around him. ‘When a body’s been in seawater for so long...’

‘That’s the point.’

‘What’s the point?’

‘We didn’t find the body in the sea but in an alleyway between 14th and 15th Streets.’

‘What?’

‘That’s why we want to be absolutely sure it’s Fleance before we go any further.’

‘14th and 15th, you say?’

‘Go to 14th and Doheney. I’ll wait for you outside Joey’s Hamburger Bar.’

‘OK, Caithness. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

Macbeth rang off. Lilies. The flowers in the carpet were lilies. Lily. That was the name of Lady’s child. Why hadn’t he made the connection before? Dead. Because he hadn’t seen, tasted, eaten and slept so much death before. He closed his eyes. Recalled the changing faces from the dream. Orphanage Director Lorreal’s unknowing face as he snored with his mouth open became Chief Commissioner Duncan’s, eyes that opened and stared at him, knowing. Then Banquo’s stiff, brutal glare. No bodies, only the head on the pillow. Then the nameless young Norse Rider’s panic-stricken expression as he knelt on the tarmac staring at his already dead comrade and Macbeth coming towards him. He looked at the ceiling. And remembered all the times he had woken from a nightmare and breathed a sigh of relief. Relieved to find in reality he wasn’t drowning in quicksand or being eaten by dogs. But sometimes he thought he had woken from a nightmare but was still dreaming, still drowning, and he had to break through several layers before he reached consciousness. He shut his eyes tight. Opened them again. Then he got up.

The buxom black woman in reception at St Jordi’s Hospital looked up from the ID card Lennox showed her.

‘We’ve been told that no one has access...’ She checked the card again. ‘Inspector.’

‘Police matter,’ he said. ‘Top priority. The mayor has to be informed at once.’

‘If you leave a message I can—’

‘Confidential matter, urgent.’

She sighed.

‘Room 204, first floor.’

Mayor Tourtell and the young boy sat side by side on wooden chairs next to one of the beds in the large ward. The older man held the boy around the shoulder and they both looked up as Lennox stood behind them and coughed. In the bed lay a wan, thin-haired, middle-aged woman, and Lennox saw at once the likeness with the boy. ‘Good evening, sir. You won’t remember me, but we met at the dinner at Inverness Casino.’

‘Inspector Lennox, isn’t it? Anti-Corruption Unit.’

‘Impressive. I apologise for bursting in like this.’

‘How can I help, Lennox?’

‘We’ve had a credible tip-off of an imminent assassination attempt against you.’

The boy gave a start, but Tourtell didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘More details, Inspector.’

‘We don’t have any more for the present, but we’re taking it seriously and I’m to escort you from here to a safer place.’

Tourtell raised an eyebrow. ‘And what could be safer than a hospital?’

‘The newspapers say you’re here, Mr Mayor. Anyone has access here. Let me accompany you to your car and follow you until you’re safe within your own four walls. Then I hope we’ll have time to delve deeper. So if you wouldn’t mind coming with me...’

‘Right now? As you see—’

‘I can see and I apologise, but it’s your duty and mine to protect the person of the mayor.’

‘Stand by the door and keep watch, Lennox, so—’

‘These aren’t my orders, sir.’

‘They are now, Lennox.’

‘Go.’ The whispered, barely audible word came from the woman in the bed. ‘Go, and take Kasi with you.’

Tourtell laid a hand on hers. ‘But Edith, you—’

‘I’m tired, my dear. I want to be alone now. Kasi’s safer with you. Listen to the man.’

‘Are you—’

‘Yes, I’m sure.’

The woman closed her eyes. Tourtell patted her hand and turned to Lennox. ‘OK, let’s go.’

They left the room. The boy a few steps in front of them.

‘Does he know?’ Lennox asked.

‘That she’s dying? Yes.’

‘And how’s he taking it?’

‘Some days are harder than others. He’s known for a while.’ They went down the stairs towards the kiosk and the exit. ‘But he says it’s fine. It’s fine as long as he has one of us. I’m just going to get some cigarettes. Will you wait for me?’

‘There she is,’ Macbeth said, pointing.

Jack pulled in to the kerb opposite the Grand Hotel, between a dry-cleaner’s and a hamburger bar. They both got out, and Macbeth ran his eye up and down the empty street.

‘Thanks for coming so quickly,’ Caithness said.

‘No problem,’ Macbeth said. She smelled of strong perfume. He couldn’t remember having noticed that before.

‘Show me,’ Macbeth said.

Macbeth and Jack followed her down the street. Saturday evening was just warming up. Under a flashing neon sign that read NUDE WOMEN a suited doorman gave Caithness the once-over, then threw his cigarette end to the tarmac and ground it in with his heel.

‘I thought you would bring Seyton with you,’ Caithness said.

‘He had to go to St Jordi’s this evening. Is it here?’

Caithness had stopped by the entrance to a narrow alley cordoned off with orange Homicide Unit tape. Macbeth peered down. It was so narrow that the dustbins outside the back doors on both sides were close. And it was too dark to see anything at all.

‘I was here first. The rest of the SOC team is coming later. That’s the way it is at the weekend. They’re scattered to the four winds.’ Caithness pushed up the tape and Macbeth ducked underneath. ‘If you could go in and have a look at the body alone, sir. I’ve covered it with a sheet, but please don’t touch anything else. We want as few prints as possible in there. Your driver can wait here while I go back to Joey’s and meet the pathologist. He’s supposed to be just around the corner.’