Macbeth

Walt Kite laughed and raised an arm above his head. ‘And with that we say thank you to Chief Commissioner Macbeth. I’m not so sure he’s telling us the truth when he says he knows nothing about rhetoric. And now here’s Miles Davis...’ He dropped his arm and pointed to the window. The red light went out, and the sound of a soft, dry trumpet filled the speakers.

‘Thank you.’ Kite smiled. ‘No one will take the lives of any more Veras? You are aware that you could be elected as mayor on that sound bite alone, aren’t you?’

‘Thanks for the interview,’ Macbeth said without moving.

Kite glanced at him questioningly.

‘Did I hear you aright?’ Macbeth said slowly in a low voice. ‘Did you accuse me of lying at the end there?’

Kite blinked, taken aback. ‘Lying?’

‘I’m not so sure he’s telling us the truth when he...’

‘Oh, but that—’ the reporter’s Adam’s apple jumped ‘—was just a joke of course, a... erm, way of speaking, a...’

‘I was just teasing.’ Macbeth smiled and got up. ‘See you.’

As Macbeth left the radio building in the rain he felt that Walt Kite wouldn’t be a problem any more. And as he sat in the back of the limousine he felt that the Obelisk, Duff and Lady’s illness weren’t going to be problems any more either. Because he was thinking more clearly than ever.

‘Drive a bit more slowly,’ he said.

He wanted to enjoy the trip through the town. His town.

True enough, it wasn’t his yet, but it soon would be. Because he was invincible. And perfectly medicated.

While they were waiting at some red lights his gaze fell on a man waiting by the crossing, although the pedestrian light was green. His upper body and face were hidden by a large black umbrella, so all Macbeth could see was his light-coloured coat, brown shoes and the big black dog he was holding on a lead. And a thought struck Macbeth. Did the dog wonder why he was owned, why he was on a lead? He gets a little food, his allotted portion, just enough for him to prefer security to insecurity, to be kept in check. That is all that stops the dog from trotting over to the owner while he is asleep, tearing out his throat and taking over the house. For that is all he has to do. Once you realise how to open the pantry door it is actually the natural response.

Part Three

25

‘Our finest-quality wool,’ the assistant said, respectfully stroking the material of the black suit on the clothes hanger.

Outside the windows of the outfitters it was drizzling and on the river the waves had started to settle after the gales of the previous days.

‘What do you think, Bonus?’ Hecate said. ‘Would it fit Macbeth?’

‘I thought you were going for a dinner jacket, not a dark suit.’

‘You never wear, as of course you know, a dinner jacket in church, and Macbeth has many funerals to attend this week.’

‘So no dinner jacket today?’ the assistant asked.

‘We need both, Al.’

‘I’d just like to point out that if this is for the gala banquet, full evening dress is de rigueur, sir.’

‘Thank you, Al, but this isn’t the royal palace, just the local town hall. What do you say, Bonus, aren’t tails a bit—’ Hecate clicked his tongue ‘—pretentious?’

‘Agreed,’ Bonus said. ‘It’s when the new rich dress themselves in old-money attire that they really look like clowns.’

‘Good, a dark suit and a dinner jacket. Will you send a tailor to Inverness Casino, Al? And put everything on my account.’

‘It will be done, sir.’

‘And then we need a dinner jacket for this gentleman.’

‘For me?’ Bonus said in astonishment. ‘But I’ve already got a wond—’

‘Thank you. I’ve seen it and, believe me, you need a new one.’

‘Do I?’

‘Your position requires an impeccable appearance, Bonus, and you’re working for me, what’s more.’

Bonus didn’t answer.

‘Will you run and get me some more dinner jackets, Al?’

‘Right away,’ said the assistant, and dutifully ran a few bow-legged steps to the stairs down to the shop.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Hecate said. ‘And I admit that dressing you up is a way of displaying my power, the way kings dress up their soldiers and servants. But what can I say? I like it.’

Bonus had never been one-hundred-per-cent sure if the abnormally white, even teeth in the old man’s smile were his own. If they were dentures, they were quite eccentric because they came equipped with three big gold crowns.

‘Speaking of displayed power,’ Hecate said, ‘that attractive young boy who was at the dinner at the Inverness, is his name Kasi?’

‘Yes.’

‘How old is he?’

‘Fifteen and a half,’ Bonus said.

‘Hm. That’s young.’

‘Age is—’

‘I have no moral scruples, but neither do I have your taste for young boys, Bonus. I’m just pointing out that that’s illegally young. And that it could potentially cause great harm. But I see this makes you uncomfortable, so let’s change the topic of conversation. Lady is sick, I understand?’

‘That’s what the psychiatrist says. Serious psychosis. It can take time. He’s afraid she might be suicidal.’

‘Don’t doctors take an oath?’