Macbeth

Duff eyed Macbeth for a moment. Then he whirled round. Up where the mezzanine was cut in two, he saw two figures against the morning sun shining in through the hole in the east wall. One was a medieval suit of armour. The second, Olafson, kneeling with his rifle resting on the balustrade. Fifteen metres. Olafson could hit a penny from there.

A shot rang out.

Duff knew he was dead.

So why was he still standing?

The echo of the shot resounded through the room.

Macbeth saw Olafson fall against the suit of armour, which toppled back, fell through the gap in the mezzanine and clattered to the gaming-room floor. On the mezzanine Olafson lay with his face pressed to the railing. His cheek was pushed over one eye, the other was closed, as though he had fallen asleep over his Remington 700 rifle.

‘Fleance!’ Caithness shouted.

Duff turned to the northern end of the mezzanine.

And there, up where the stairs came down from the upper floors, stood Fleance. His shirt was drenched with blood, he was swaying and clinging to a still-smoking gun.

‘Caithness, get Kasi and Fleance out,’ Duff said. ‘Now.’

Duff slumped into the chair beside the roulette table. The ball in the wheel was slowing; the sound had changed.

‘What happens now?’ Macbeth groaned.

‘We wait here until the others come. They’ll patch you up at the hospital. Custody. Federal case. They’ll be talking about you for years, Macbeth.’

‘Still think you’ve got the top bunk, do you, Duff?’

Crystal rattled. Duff looked up. Macbeth had raised his left hand.

‘You know I have the speed of a fly. Before you’ve let go of that sabre and reached for your gun you’ll have a dagger in your chest. You know that, don’t you?’

‘Possibly,’ Duff said. Instead of feeling fear he felt just an immense weariness creeping over him. ‘And you’ll still lose, as always.’

Macbeth laughed. ‘And why’s that?’

‘It’s just one of those self-fulfilling things. You’ve always known, all your life, you’re doomed to lose in the end. That certainty is and always has been you, Macbeth.’

‘Oh yes? Haven’t you heard? No man born of woman can kill me. That’s Hecate’s promise, and he’s shown several times that he keeps his promises. So do you know what? I can just get up from here and go.’ He tried to lever himself up into a sitting position, but the weight of the chandelier pressed down on him.

‘Hecate forgot to take me into account when he made you that promise,’ Duff said, keeping an eye on Macbeth’s left hand. ‘I can kill you, so just lie still.’

‘Are you hard of hearing, Duff? I said—’

‘But I wasn’t born of woman,’ Duff wheezed.

‘You weren’t?’

‘No. I was cut out of my mother, not born.’ Duff leaned forward and ran his forefinger down the scar over his face.

Macbeth was blinking with his child-eyes. ‘You... you weren’t born when Sweno killed her?’

‘She was pregnant with me. I was told she was trying to stop the bleeding at the house of an officer when Sweno swung this—’ Duff raised the sabre ‘—and cut open her stomach.’

‘And your face.’

Duff nodded slowly. ‘You won’t get away from me, Macbeth. You’ve lost.’

‘Loss after loss. We start off having everything and then we lose everything. I thought it was the only thing that was certain, the amnesty of death. But not even that is guaranteed. Only you can give me death and send me to where I can be reunited with my beloved, Duff. Be my saviour.’

‘No. You’re under arrest and will rot alone in a prison.’

Macbeth chuckled. ‘I can’t, and you can’t stop yourself. You couldn’t stop yourself trying to kill me in the alley and you can’t now. We are as we are, Duff. Free will is an illusion. So do what you have to do. Do what you are. Or shall I help you and say their names? Meredith, Emily and—’

‘Ewan,’ Duff said. ‘You’re the one who can’t change from the person you’ve always wanted to be, Macbeth. That’s how I knew there was still hope for Kasi even though the sun had risen over the mountain. You’ve never been able to kill a defenceless man. And even if you’re remembered as more brutal than Sweno, more corrupt than Kenneth, it is your good qualities that have brought you down, your lack of brutality.’

‘I was always the reverse of you, Duff. And hence your mirror image. So kill me now.’

‘Why the hurry? The place awaiting the likes of you is hell.’

‘So let me go.’

‘If you ask for your sins to be forgiven, maybe you’ll escape.’

‘I’ve sold that chance, Duff. And happily, because I’m looking forward to meeting my beloved again, even if it’s to burn together for all eternity.’

‘Well, you’ll get a fair trial and your sentence will be neither too severe nor too mild. It will be the first proof that this town can be civilised. It can become whole again.’