Macbeth

‘No.’ He laughed. A boy’s laughter. ‘I didn’t even know whether my cards were any good.’

‘Sixteen versus an ace? I would say they weren’t. So how could you be so sure he would play? The story you told him wasn’t exactly convincing.’

He shrugged. She looked into her glass of wine. And saw what she knew. He knew what addiction was.

‘Did you at any point have any doubt you’d be able to stop him before he shot Jack?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes?’

The young policeman sipped from his glass. He didn’t seem to be relishing this topic of conversation. Should she let him off the hook? She leaned across the table. ‘Tell me more, Macbeth.’

He put down his glass. ‘For a man to lose consciousness before he has time to pull the trigger in such a situation, you have to either shoot him in the head or cut his carotid artery. As you saw, cutting his artery produced a brief but thick jet of blood, then the rest trickled out. Well, the oxygen the brain needed was in the first jet, so that meant he was unconscious before the blood even hit the table. There were two problems. Firstly, the ideal distance for throwing a knife is five paces. I was sitting much closer, but fortunately the daggers I use are balanced. That makes them harder to throw for someone without sufficient experience, but for an experienced thrower it’s easier to adjust the rotation. The second problem was that Collum was sitting in such a way that I could only get at the artery on the left-hand side of his face. And I would have to throw with my right hand. I am, as you can see, left-handed. I was dependent on a bit of luck. And usually I’m not lucky. What was the card by the way?’

‘Queen of spades. You lost.’

‘See.’

‘You’re not lucky?’

‘Definitely not at cards.’

‘And?’

He considered. Then he shook his head. ‘Nope. Not lucky in love either.’

They laughed. Toasted each other and laughed again. Listened to the falling rain. And she closed her eyes for a moment. She thought she had heard ice clinking in glasses at the bar. The click of the ball on wood spinning round the roulette wheel. Her own heartbeats.

‘What?’ He blinked in the dark bedroom.

She repeated the words: ‘You have to kill Duncan.’

Lady heard the sound of her own words, felt them grow in her mouth and drown her beating heart.

Macbeth sat up in bed, looking at her carefully. ‘Are you awake or talking in your sleep, darling?’

‘No. I’m here. And you know it has to be done.’

‘You were having a bad dream. And now—’

‘No! Think about it. It’s logical. It’s him or us.’

‘Do you think he wishes us any harm? He’s only just promoted me.’

‘In name you may be the head of Organised Crime, but in practice you’re at the mercy of his whims. If you want to close the Obelisk, if you want to chase the drug dealers out of the area around the Inverness and increase police presence on the streets so that people feel safe you have to be chief commissioner. And that’s just the small things. Think of all the big things we could achieve with you in the top job, darling.’

Macbeth laughed. ‘But Duncan wants to do big things.’

‘I don’t doubt that he honestly and genuinely wants to, but to achieve big things a chief commissioner must have broad support from the people. And for this town’s inhabitants Duncan is just a snob who landed the top post, as Kenneth did too, as Tourtell did in the town hall. It isn’t beautiful words that win over the populace, it’s who you are. And you and I are part of them, Macbeth. We know what they know. We want what they want. Listen. Of the people. For the people. With the people. Do you understand? We are the only ones who can say that.’

‘I understand, but...’

‘But what?’ She stroked his stomach. ‘Don’t you want to be in charge? Aren’t you a man who wants to be at the top? Are you happy to lick the boots of others?’

‘Of course not. But if we just wait we’ll get there anyway. As head of Organised Crime I’m still number three.’

‘But the chief commissioner’s office is not for the likes of you, my love! Think about it. You’ve been given this job so that it looks as if we’re as good as them. They’ll never give you the top job. Not willingly. We have to take it.’

He rolled over onto his other side, with his back to her. ‘Let’s forget this, darling. The way you’ve forgotten that Malcolm will be chief if anything happens to Duncan.’

She grabbed his shoulder, pulled him back over so that he lay facing her again.