Macbeth

‘Then we’d better offer the same.’

‘I think the problem runs deeper than that, sir. Can you see how few there are in the bar downstairs? In the Obelisk there are queues. Beer and cocktails cost thirty-per-cent less, and that not only increases the number of customers and the turnover in the bar, it makes people less guarded in the gaming rooms.’

‘Lady thinks we appeal to a different, more quality-conscious clientele.’

‘The people who go to casinos in this town can be divided broadly into three groups, sir. You have the out-and-out gamblers who don’t care about the quality of the carpets or expensive cognac; they want an efficient croupier, a poker table with visiting country cousins they can fleece and — if it’s possible — credit. The Obelisk has this group. And then you have the country folk I mentioned, who usually come here because we have the reputation of being the real casino. But now they’ve discovered they prefer the simple more fun-filled sinful atmosphere at the Obelisk. These are people who tend to go to bingo rather than the opera.’

‘And we’re the opera?’

‘They want cheap beer, cheap women. What’s the point of an outing into town otherwise?’

‘And the last group?’

Jack pointed down to the room. ‘West Enders. The ones who don’t want to mingle with the dregs. Our last loyal customers. So far. The Obelisk plans to open a new gaming room next year with a dress code, higher minimum stakes and more expensive brands of cognac in the bar.’

‘Hm. And what do you suggest we do?’

‘Me?’ Jack laughed. ‘I’m just a receptionist, sir.’

‘And a croupier.’ Macbeth looked down at the blackjack table where he, Lady and Jack had first met. ‘Let me ask you for some advice, Jack.’

‘A croupier just watches people placing bets, sir. They never give advice.’

‘Fine, you’ll have to listen then. Tourtell came to tell me he didn’t want me to stand as mayor.’

‘Had you planned to do that, sir?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve probably half-thought about doing it and half-rejected it and then half-thought about it again. Especially after Tourtell so patronisingly explained to me what politics was really about. What do you think?’

‘Oh, I’m sure you’d be a brilliant mayor, sir. Think of all the things you and Lady could do for the town!’

Macbeth studied Jack’s beaming face — the undisguised happiness, the naive optimism. Like a reflection of the person he had once been. And a strange thought struck him: he wished he were Jack, the receptionist.

‘But I have a lot to lose as well,’ Macbeth said. ‘If I don’t stand now Tourtell will support me next time. And Tourtell’s right about the sitting mayor invariably being elected.’

‘Hm,’ Jack said, scratching his head. ‘Unless there’s a scandal just before the elections, that is. A scandal so damaging that the town can’t possibly let Tourtell continue.’

‘For example?’

‘Lady asked me to check out the young boy Tourtell brought to the dinner. My sources tell me Tourtell’s wife has moved to their summer cottage in Fife, while the boy has moved in. And he’s underage, sexually. What we need is concrete evidence of indecent behaviour. From employees in the mayor’s residence, for instance.’

‘But, Jack, this is fantastic!’ Excitement at the thought of skewering Tourtell warmed Macbeth’s cheeks. ‘We gather the evidence, and I get Kite to set up a live election debate, and then I can throw this unseemly relationship straight in Tourtell’s face. He won’t be prepared for that. How about that?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Maybe? What do you mean?’

‘I was just thinking, sir, that you yourself moved into the house of a childless man when you were fifteen. The mayor would be able to come back with that.’

Macbeth felt the blood rising in his face again. ‘What? Banquo and I...?’

‘Tourtell won’t hesitate if you throw the first stone, sir. All’s fair in love and war. At the same time it would be unfortunate if it looked as if you’d used your position to spy on Tourtell’s private life.’

‘Hm, you’re right. So how would you do it?’

‘Let me mull it over.’ Jack took a sip of coffee. And another. Then he put his cup down on the table. ‘The information about the boy must be leaked via roundabout means. But if you’re standing against Tourtell you’ll still be suspected of being the source. So the leak should happen before you announce your candidature. In fact, to be sure you avoid suspicion you should perhaps announce you’re not standing, at least not for four years. You’ve got a job to do as chief commissioner first. Then, when the scandal disqualifies Tourtell, you’ll say rather reluctantly that as the town needs a leader at short notice you’ll put yourself at its disposal. You’ll refuse to comment on the Tourtell scandal when journalists ask, showing that you’re above that kind of behaviour, and only focus on how to get the town... er... You used such a good expression on the radio, sir, what was it again?’

‘Back on an even keel,’ Macbeth said. ‘Now I understand why Lady uses you as an adviser, Jack.’

‘Thank you, sir, but don’t exaggerate my significance.’