by Jo Nesbo
‘That’s two days too many,’ Sweno had said. ‘And the two last days you will ever get from me. The day after tomorrow, at eleven o’clock on the dot, one of our members will ring the home of one of the town’s judges, I won’t say which, and confess his involvement in Banquo’s murder and how we knew exactly where Banquo and Fleance would be.’
‘One of your kamikaze pilots?’
‘In addition, we have seven witnesses that saw you come to our club house.’
‘Relax and think about your speech, Sweno. We’ll drop your boys outside the club gate tomorrow afternoon at half past three.’
And with that Macbeth rang off.
At the foot of the steps to the central station Macbeth scoured the area. Saw another grey coat, but not the same one. The hat hid his face, and he was after all only one of many smartly dressed men who ran up these steps every day to buy whatever they needed to function as surprisingly well as they did.
He stood where he had last stood, in the corridor, by the stairs down to the toilet. The young boy was nowhere to be seen. Macbeth hopped from foot to foot impatiently. It was many hours since he had felt the need, but it was only now, as he was about to satisfy his need, that it was really bad.
She appeared after what felt like an hour, but his watch told him only ten minutes had passed. She had a white stick in her hand, whatever that was supposed to mean.
‘I need two bags,’ he said.
‘You need to meet someone,’ Strega said. ‘Put these in your ears and wear these.’ She held out a pair of earplugs and some glasses that looked like a cross between swimming and welding goggles, the type he had seen blind people wear.
‘Why should I?’
‘Because if you don’t you won’t get any brew.’
He hesitated. No, he didn’t hesitate, he just took his time. He would have walked on his hands if that was what they demanded. The goggles were painted, so he could see nothing at all. Strega held him and whirled him round several times, evidently so that he would lose his sense of direction. Then she handed him the white stick and led him off. Ten minutes later he knew they had walked in the rain, people and traffic had been around them, the ear-plugs didn’t shut out all sound. Strega had helped him up onto a cement edge a metre and a half high and from there they had walked on gravel or sand. Then up onto another cement edge and inside somewhere, he guessed – at least it was warmer and the air was drier. And he had been sat down on a chair where someone took out the earplugs and told him to keep the goggles on.
He heard someone approaching, and a tap-tap sound stopped right in front of him.
‘I regret to have to bring you here in this way.’ The voice was unusually gentle and soft and sounded as if it belonged to an elderly man. ‘But I thought – all things taken into account – it was best to meet face to face. That is, you can’t see mine of course, but if I were you, Macbeth, I would be glad of that.’
‘I understand. It means you intend to let me leave alive.’
‘You’re not smart, but you’re more smart than stupid, Macbeth. That was why we chose you.’
‘Why am I here?’
‘Because we’re concerned. We knew of course of your affection for stimulants before we chose you, but we weren’t aware that it would take over so completely and so quickly. In short, we have to find out if you’re trustworthy or we will have to swap you.’
‘Swap me for what?’
‘Do you imagine you’re unique? I hope the chief commissioner title hasn’t gone to your head and that you realise it’s only a front. Without me you’re nothing. Duncan thought he could manage without me, indeed, that he could fight me. Do you believe that too, Macbeth?’
Macbeth gritted his teeth and swallowed his anger. He only wanted the bags and to get away. He took a deep breath. ‘As far as I can see, we have a form of collaboration we both profit from, Hecate. You may have triggered events that led to me becoming chief commissioner, and I will get rid of Sweno and ensure that the police don’t bother you and your monopoly too much.’
‘Hm. So you have no moral scruples?’
‘Of course I do, but I’m a pragmatist. In any town of this size there will be a market for dream sellers like you. If it isn’t you or Sweno, it’ll be someone else. Our cooperation will at least keep other and perhaps worse drug dealers away. I accept you as the means to the end of building a good future for this town.’
The old man chuckled. ‘Sounds like words taken straight from Lady’s mouth. Light and sweet to the taste but insubstantial. I’m at a crossroads here, Macbeth. And to decide my way I will have to make an assessment of your suitability. I see the newspapers are using metaphors about the third officer taking over the helm from the captain. Well, your ship is in a hurricane right now. Duncan, Banquo and a police cadet have been executed. Cawdor, Malcolm and two bodyguards are dead and assumed corrupt. Your ship is already a physical and moral wreck, Macbeth, so if I’m going to help you I have to know specifically how you’re going to steer it into calmer waters.’
‘The guilty parties will of course be apprehended and punished.’
‘I’m glad to hear that. And who are the guilty parties?’
‘That’s obvious. The Norse Riders. They forced Malcolm and his guards to cooperate.’
‘Good. In which case we shall be acquitted, you and I. But what if Sweno can prove his innocence with respect to Duncan’s murder?’
‘I have a feeling he won’t be able to.’
‘Hm. I hope you’ve got the energy to follow up what you’ve said, Macbeth.’
‘I have, Hecate. And I hope I can demand the same of you.’
‘What do you mean? I’ve carved out a path for you as chief commissioner, isn’t that enough?’
‘Not if I’m not protected. What I can see now is that everyone’s out to get me: judges, journalists, criminals and probably colleagues too. With guns or words as weapons. The phone never stops. And look. I can be kidnapped or abducted like a blind man in the middle of the day.’
‘Haven’t you got SWAT to keep an eye on you?’
‘Who knows if I can rely on everyone there. I need more protection.’
‘I understand. And here’s my answer. You already have my protection. You’ve already had it for some time. You just haven’t seen it.’
‘Where is it?’
‘Don’t even think about it. You should know Hecate protects his investments. The person I am, what I stand for, is the guarantee that no one, absolutely no one in this town, can hurt you as long as you’re mine, Macbeth.’
‘No one?’
‘I promise you, the person isn’t born that can harm a hair on your beautiful head. And old Bertha will roll again before anyone can push you out of office. Isn’t that good enough for you, Macbeth?’
‘Yes, I’m happy with both of those promises.’
‘Good. Because there’s one last thing I have to say. And that is, watch out for Inspector Duff.’
‘Oh?’
‘He knows it was you who killed Duncan.’
Macbeth knew he should feel alarm. Fear. Panic. But all he had space for was the familiar, hated craving.
‘Fortunately for you there is at the moment only one man who knows what Duff knows.’
‘Who’s that?’ Macbeth asked.
‘The same man who launched and supported your candidature for head of Organised Crime, at my instruction. So discreetly that Duncan thought afterwards it had been his idea.’
‘And who was that?’
‘See for yourself.’
A chair leg scraped as Macbeth was turned round. Then his goggles were removed. Macbeth’s first thought was that he was looking into a soundproofed interview room. It had the same one-way window that meant the interrogee neither saw nor heard those outside. The difference was that this resembled a large laboratory with glass flask
s, tubes and pipes leading to an enormous tank. The tank made an almost comical contrast with all the modern equipment and reminded Macbeth of cartoons showing cannibals boiling people alive. On the wall behind the tank hung a sign with the words NO SMOKING. In front of the tank in the harshly illuminated room, close to the glass, sat a pale red-haired man upright in a recliner. One shirtsleeve was rolled up, his face turned to the ceiling, his mouth half-open, his eyes half-shut. He sat so close to them that Macbeth could see the blue half-irises under the man’s eyelids trembling. He recognised one of the Chinese sisters, who was holding a syringe with the needle sticking into Inspector Lennox’s forearm.
The gentle voice behind Macbeth said, ‘Lennox sowed the idea in Duncan’s mind, the idea that he should appoint someone who didn’t belong to the elite, but a man people in the town felt was one of them.’
‘Lennox told Duncan he should appoint me head of Organised Crime?’
‘Of course Lennox said the opposite. Duncan couldn’t take you because you had no formal qualifications and were too popular. That’s how you manipulate stubborn old mules with big egos.’
‘You said jump and Lennox jumped?’
‘And Lennox didn’t say jump and Duncan jumped.’ There came a gurgle of laughter from behind Macbeth, as though someone were pouring whisky. ‘The labyrinths of the human mind, Macbeth. Broad avenues, above all, easy to navigate. Lennox has been mine for more than ten years. A loyal toiler, Inspector Lennox.’
Macbeth tried to see the reflection of the man behind him, but he saw only Strega, as though Hecate himself could not be reflected. But he was standing there because Macbeth heard his voice by his ear:
‘But when I say jump, it means jump.’
‘Oh?’
‘Kill Duff.’
Macbeth swallowed. ‘Duff’s my friend. But you probably knew that.’
‘Banquo was a father to you, but that didn’t stop you. Killing Duff is a necessity, Macbeth. Besides I have a better friend for you. Her name is power.’
‘I don’t need any new friends.’
‘Yes, you do. Brew makes you unstable and quirky. You’ve had hallucinations, haven’t you?’
‘Maybe. Maybe this is a hallucination. What’s power?’
‘A new yet ancient product. Brew is a poor man’s power. Power is seven times stronger and half as damaging. It sharpens and strengthens your mind. And that’s what these times demand.’
‘I prefer brew.’
‘What you prefer, Macbeth, is to continue as chief commissioner.’
‘And this new drug, will it make me dependent?’
‘I told you it was ancient. And power will replace everything you’re already dependent on. So what do you think? Duff versus power?’
Macbeth saw Lennox’s head tip forward. He heard Strega whisper something behind him. The sister laid Lennox back on the recliner and went to the tank.
‘Give it to me.’
‘Sorry?’
Macbeth cleared his throat: ‘Give it to me, I said.’
‘Give him the bags,’ Hecate said.
Macbeth heard the tap-tap fade as his goggles were put back on and the world around him disappeared.
18
‘SHE’S BEAUTIFUL, ISN’T SHE?’ LENNOX said, stroking the curves.
‘No,’ Duff said. ‘Bertha is many things, but she isn’t beautiful.’
Lennox laughed and looked down at his hand, which was now covered with soot. ‘Everyone says Bertha, but her full name is Bertha Birnam. Named after a black-haired construction site cook, she was the only employee with them throughout the years it took to build the line from here to Capitol.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because my grandfather worked on the line. From here to Capitol.’
‘So your grandfather swung a sledgehammer and dragged sleepers?’
‘No, of course not, he helped to finance the railway.’
‘That sounds more likely.’ Duff looked across at Inverness Casino’s welcoming lights in the afternoon darkness.
‘Yep, we Lennoxes are really bankers. In fact, I’m a kind of black sheep. What about your origins, Duff?’
‘The usual.’
‘Police.’
‘As far as the eye can see.’
‘I know lots of Duffs in town, but none of them is in the police.’
‘I took the name from my maternal grandfather when I moved here.’
‘And he’s . . .’
‘Dead. Orphanage after that. Then police college.’
‘If you’re not from here why didn’t you go to the police college in Capitol? It’s better, and so are the weather and air.’
‘The big fish are here. The Norse Riders, Hecate . . .’
‘I see. You really wanted Organised Crime, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, I probably did.’
‘Well, it’s still free. And when we’ve arrested Macbeth as Duncan’s murderer, you’ll just have to point to which unit you want. We’ll be hailed as the saviours of the town, Duff.’
‘Will we? Do you really think they care?’ Duff nodded to the square, where people were scurrying to get out of sight as fast as possible, into the shadows to find shelter.
‘I know what you mean, but it’s a mistake to underrate the general public in this town.’
‘There are two ways to tackle a problem, Lennox. By solving it or ignoring it. Kenneth taught this town to do the latter. Apathy towards corruption and shoving responsibility for the community onto others. Watching them escape, like cockroaches when the light comes on.’
‘A contemptible town with contemptible inhabitants, and yet you’re willing to risk everything?’
Lennox watched Duff shaking his head.
‘My God, Lennox, what makes you think this is for the town ? The town. It’s just a way of speaking they use when they want to be elected to the town hall or become the chief commissioner. Tell me what you’ve turned up since we last met.’
‘OK. I’ve spoken to a judge in Capitol—’
‘We shouldn’t talk to anyone !’
‘Take it easy now, Duff. I didn’t say what or who it was about, only that it concerned corruption at a high level. The point is that this judge is reliable. He lives elsewhere, so he’s out of Macbeth, Sweno or Hecate’s control. As a judge in a federal court of law he can hook up with the federal police, so we can leapfrog HQ and prosecute in Capitol, where Macbeth can’t pull any strings. The judge is coming here in three days and he’s agreed to meet us in total secrecy.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Jones.’
Lennox saw Duff staring at him.
‘Lars Jones,’ Lennox said. ‘Anything wrong?’
‘You’ve got pupils like a junkie.’
Lennox moistened his tongue and laughed. ‘That’s how it is when you’re born half-albino. Eyes sensitive to light. That’s one reason my family prefers indoor jobs.’
Duff shivered in his coat. Looked over at Inverness Casino again. ‘So, three days. What shall we do in the meantime?’
Lennox shrugged. ‘Keep our heads down. Don’t rock the boat. And . . . I can’t think of a third way to say that.’
‘I’m already dreading my next meeting with Macbeth.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘I’m no actor.’
‘You’ve never fooled anyone?’
‘Yes, but people always see through me.’
Lennox glanced at Duff. ‘Oh? At home?’
Duff shrugged. ‘Even my lad, who’ll be nine in a couple of days, knows when his dad’s telling fibs. And Macbeth knows me better than anyone.’
‘Strange,’ Lennox said, ‘that two people who are so different have been such close friends.’
‘We’ll have to talk later,’ Duff said, looking to
the west. ‘If I set off now I’ll be in Fife by sunset.’
Lennox stood looking in the same direction as Duff. And thought it was good that nature had arranged things in such a way that rain showers always hid the view from those who were behind so that you could always be optimistic about a quick improvement in the weather.
‘I have a feeling we’re over the worst,’ Macbeth said, stretching for the lighter on the bedside table and lighting his cigarette. ‘Everything will get better now, my sweet. We’re back where we should be. This town is ours.’
Lady rested a hand on her chest, felt her still-racing heart under the silk sheet. And talked between breaths: ‘If your newly acquired enthusiasm is an indicator of your strength, darling—’
‘Mm?’
‘—then we’re unbeatable. Are you aware how much they love you out there? People in the casino talk about you, say you’re the town’s saviour. And do you read the papers? Today The Times suggested in its leader that you should stand in the mayoral elections.’
‘Was that your friend, the editor?’ Macbeth grinned. ‘Because you asked him?’
‘No, no. The leader wasn’t about you. It was a comment piece on Tourtell not having a real rival and being re-elected despite being unpopular.’
‘You don’t become popular by being Kenneth’s lackey.’
‘So your name was mentioned as someone who theoretically could challenge Tourtell. What do you say to that?’
‘To standing as mayor? Me?’ Macbeth laughed and scratched his forearm. ‘Thank you, but no thank you. I’ve got a big enough office and now we have more than enough power to do what we want.’ His nail rasped over the little hole in his skin. Power. He had injected himself with a syringe, and the sales pitch hadn’t exaggerated.
‘You’re right, darling,’ she said. ‘But muse on it a little anyway. When the idea matures it will perhaps feel different – who knows? By the way, Jack received a parcel for you this morning. A biker brought it. Heavy and very well packed.’
Macbeth waited for the feeling of ice in his veins, but it didn’t come. Must have been the effect of the new dope. ‘Where did you put it?’