Macbeth

by Jo Nesbo

  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.’

  Macbeth looked at her. He saw nothing in her face. Yet. She had thought Seyton would be coming. Strong perfume. Which camouflaged any other smell she might be secreting.

  ‘OK,’ he said and set off down the alley.

  He hadn’t walked more than ten metres before all the sounds from the main street disappeared and all that could be heard was the whirr of fans, coughing from an open window and the drone of a radio: Todd Rundgren, ‘Hello, It’s Me’. He sneaked between the dustbins, creeping forward without quite knowing why. Habit, he supposed.

  The body lay in the middle of the alley, half inside the cone of light from a wall lamp. He could make out 15th Street at the other end, but it was too far away for him to see if the alley was taped off there as well.

  A pair of feet stuck out from under the white sheet. He immediately recognised the winkle-pickers.

  He went over to the sheet. Took a deep breath. The air contained the sweet smell of dry-cleaning chemicals coming from a noisy extractor fan above the door right behind him. He grasped the sheet in the middle and pulled it away.

  ‘Hi, Macbeth.’

  Macbeth stared into the muzzle of the shotgun raised towards him by the man lying on his back in the darkness. The scar shone on his face. Macbeth released the air from his lungs.

  ‘Hi, Duff.’

  Duff studied Macbeth’s hands as he spoke. ‘Macbeth, you are hereby arrested. If you move a finger I’ll shoot you now. Your choice.’

  Macbeth looked towards 15th Street. ‘I’m the chief commissioner in this town, Duff. You can’t arrest me.’

  ‘There are other authorities.’

  ‘The mayor?’ Macbeth laughed. ‘I don’t think you can rely on him living that long.’

  ‘I’m not talking about anyone in this town.’ Duff got to his feet without the shotgun veering a centimetre from Macbeth.

  ‘You’ve been arrested for involvement in the murders committed in Fife, and you will be transported there to stand trial. We’ve spoken with them. You will be charged with the murder of Banquo, which took place in Fife. Hold your hands above your head and face the wall.’

  Macbeth did as instructed. ‘You’ve got nothing on me and you know it.’

  ‘With Inspector Caithness’s statement about what Angus told her, we have enough to keep you in custody in Fife for a week. And a week without you at the helm will give us enough time to indict you here too. For the murder of Duncan. We have forensic evidence.’ Duff took out his handcuffs. ‘Turn round, put your hands behind— You know the drill.’

  ‘Are you really not going to shoot me, Duff? Come on, you’re a man who lives for revenge.’

  Duff waited until Macbeth had turned his back and linked his hands behind his head, then approached.

  ‘I know it affected you finding out the man you killed wasn’t Sweno, Duff. But now you’re sure you have the right man in front of you, aren’t you going to avenge Meredith and the children? Or did your mother mean more to you than them?’

  ‘Stand still and shut your mouth.’

  ‘I’ve kept my mouth shut for years, Duff. I know the female officer Sweno killed in Stoke was your mother. What year was the business in Stoke? You can’t have been very old.’

  ‘I was young.’ Duff closed the handcuffs around Macbeth’s wrists.

  ‘And why did you take your mate
rnal grandfather’s surname of instead of your parents’ name?’

  Duff turned Macbeth so that they stood face to face.

  ‘You don’t need to answer,’ Macbeth said. ‘You did it so that no one in the police or the Norse Riders could link your name to the Stoke massacre. No one would know that you didn’t become an officer to serve the town and all that shit we swear to. It was all about catching Sweno, about you getting your revenge. Hatred drove you, Duff. At the orphanage when you killed Lorreal, it was easy, wasn’t it? You saw Sweno in front of you. Lorreal was another man who had destroyed a childhood.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Duff was so close he could see his reflection in Macbeth’s brown eyes.

  ‘So what’s happened, Duff? Why don’t you want to kill now? I’m the man who took your family, and now this is your chance.’

  ‘You’ll have to take responsibility for what you’ve done.’

  ‘And what have I done?’

  Duff cast a quick glance in the direction of 15th Street, where the car with Malcolm and Fleance was waiting. Caithness was on her way there. ‘You’ve killed innocent people.’

  ‘It’s our damned duty to kill innocent people, Duff. As long as it serves a greater purpose we have to overcome our sentimental, compliant natures. The man whose throat I cut out on the country road, that wasn’t for you, it wasn’t repayment for you killing Lorreal for me. I made myself a murderer so that no one would drag the police force through the mud. It was for the town, against anarchy.’

  ‘Come on. Let’s go.’

  Duff grabbed Macbeth’s arm, but Macbeth twisted away. ‘Has your lust for power become greater than your lust for revenge, Duff? Do you think you’re going to get Organised Crime by arresting the chief commissioner himself?’

  Duff pressed the muzzle of the shotgun under Macbeth’s chin. ‘I could of course tell them you resisted arrest.’

  ‘Difficult decision?’ Macbeth whispered.

  ‘No,’ Duff said, lowering the gun. ‘This town doesn’t need more bodies.’

  ‘So you didn’t love them, eh? Meredith, the children? Oh no, I forgot, you can’t love—’

  Duff hit out. The shotgun barrel struck Macbeth in the mouth. ‘Remember I’ve never had your problem about killing a defenceless man face to face, Macbeth.’

  Macbeth laughed and spat blood. What must have been a tooth bounced into the darkness. ‘Then prove it. Shoot the only friend you’ve ever had. Come on. Do it for Meredith!’

  ‘Don’t even say her name.’

  ‘Meredith! Meredith!’

  Duff heard the blood throbbing in his ears, felt his heart pounding, heavy and painful. He mustn’t— Macbeth’s forehead hit Duff’s nose with a crunch. But they were standing too close for Macbeth to have the momentum and power to knock him down. Duff stepped back two paces and raised the shotgun to his shoulder.

  At that moment the door behind Macbeth flew open.

  A silhouette in the doorway. The arm of a grey coat shot out, grabbed the handcuffs behind Macbeth’s back and pulled. The force was so great that Macbeth’s feet left the ground as he disappeared through the door into the darkness behind.

  Duff fired.

  The explosion met his eardrums and quivered between the walls of the alley.

  Half-deafened, Duff stepped over the threshold into the darkness.

  Something whirled in the air which he breathed in and spat out. People seemed to be lined up in front of him. The smell of perchlorethylene was overwhelming. His free hand found a light switch on the wall by the door. The people lined up were stands holding jackets and coats, each under a plastic cover with a note stating a name and date. In front of him a hole had been blasted in a plastic cover and a brown fur coat, and Duff realised he had been spitting out animal hair. He stood listening but heard only the drone of the green Garrett dry-cleaning machine by the wall. Then a ringing, like a bell above a shop door. He threw himself against the wall of clothes, ploughed past stand after stand through a door to the rear of a counter where a Chinese couple stared at him, scared out of their wits. He ran past them and onto the street. Looked up and down. The Saturday evening rush had started. A man bumped into him and for a moment Duff lost his balance. He cursed as the man apologised and continued down the pavement.

  He heard laughter behind him. Turned and saw a guy in rags, filthy, a few stumps of teeth in an open mouth.

  ‘You been robbed, mister?’

  ‘Yes,’ Duff said, lowering the shotgun. ‘I have been robbed.’

  38

  LENNOX STOOD OUTSIDE THE HOSPITAL entrance with Kasi. Glanced towards the kiosk where Tourtell was queueing to buy cigarettes, then focused on the car park. A light came on inside Tourtell’s limousine. The distance was probably a hundred metres. Around the same distance as up to the roof of the multi-storey car park to the left. Lennox shivered. Clear weather often came with a rare north-easterly wind, but also the cold. And if it blew a bit more now the sky would be free of clouds. In moonlight Olafson could probably have shot Tourtell from anywhere, but in the darkness the plan was that it would happen in the car park, under one of the lights.

  He checked his watch again. The cold was eating into his body, and he coughed. His lungs. He couldn’t stand the sun and he couldn’t stand the cold. What did God actually mean by sending someone like him to earth, a lonely suffering heart without armour, a mollusc without a shell?

  ‘Thanks for helping us.’

  ‘Sorry?’ Lennox turned to the boy.

  ‘Thank you for saving my father.’

  Lennox stared at him. Kasi was wearing the same kind of denim jacket as his own son wore. And Lennox couldn’t prevent the next thought coming. Here was a boy, not much older than his own, about to lose his mother. And his father. He says it’s fine as long as he has one of us.

  ‘Let’s go, shall we?’ Tourtell said as he came out puffing a cigarette he had just bought.

  ‘Yes,’ Lennox said. They crossed the road and went into the car park. Lennox moved to the left of Tourtell. Kasi was a few steps in front of them. All Lennox had to do was to stop as they went through the light under the first lamp so that he was out of the line of fire, and then the rest was up to Olafson.

  Lennox felt a strange numbness in his tongue, fingers and toes.

  ‘They’re coming,’ Seyton said, lowering the binoculars.

  ‘I can see them,’ Olafson lisped. He stood with one knee on the concrete of the car-park roof. One eye was shut, the other wide open behind the telescopic sights of the rifle resting on the parapet in front of them. Seyton scanned the roof behind them to make sure they were still alone. Their car was the only one up there. People didn’t seem to visit the sick on a Saturday evening. He could hear the music from the streets below them and smell the perfume and testosterone from right up there.

  Down in the car park the boy was walking in front of Tourtell and Lennox and out of the line of fire. Good. He could hear Olafson take a deep breath. The two men walked into the light under a lamp.

  Seyton felt his heart give a leap of joy.

  Now.

  But there was no shot.

  The two men walked out of the circle of light and became vague outlines in the darkness again.

  ‘What happened?’ Seyton asked.

  ‘Lennox was in the line of fire,’ Olafson said.

  ‘I suppose he’ll get out of the way when they pass under the next light.’

  Seyton raised his binoculars again.

  ‘Any idea who could be after me, Lennox?’

  ‘Yes,’ Lennox said. There were two lamps left before they reached the limousine.

  ‘Really?’ Tourtell said in surprise and slowed down. Lennox made sure to do the same.

  ‘Don’t look up at the multi-storey behind me, Tourtell, but on the roof there’s an expert marksman and right now we’re in his sights. To
be more precise, I am. So walk at the exact same speed as me. If not, you’ll be shot in the head.’

  He could see from Tourtell’s look that the mayor believed him. ‘The boy . . .’

  ‘He’s not in any danger. Keep walking. Don’t let on.’

  Lennox saw Tourtell open his mouth as though it were the only way his big body could get enough oxygen as his heart rate increased. Then the mayor nodded and walked faster, taking short steps.

  ‘What’s your role in this, Lennox?’

  ‘The rogue,’ Lennox said, and saw the driver, who must have been keeping his eye on them, get out of the car to open the rear door. ‘Is it bulletproof?’

  ‘I’m the mayor, not the president. Why are you doing this if you’re the rogue?’

  ‘Because someone has to save this town from Macbeth. I can’t, so you’ll have to, Tourtell.’

  ‘What the fuck’s Lennox up to?’ Seyton said, snatching the binoculars from his eyes to check that what he had seen through them tallied with the reality down in the car park. ‘Is he intentionally standing in front of Tourtell?’

  ‘Don’t know, boss, but this is becoming critical. They’ll soon be by the car.’

  ‘Your bullets, would they go through Lennox?’