Macbeth

‘Would you mind if I went up to wake him?’

‘Not at all.’

Duff was on his way up the stairs when a familiar figure came bounding down towards him.

‘Morning, Duff,’ Macbeth called cheerily. ‘Jack, could you go to the kitchen and get us both a cup of strong coffee.’

The receptionist went off.

‘Thanks, Macbeth, but I’ve been told to collect Duncan.’

‘Is it that urgent? And aren’t you a bit early?’

‘We’ve arranged a time to be home, and I remembered that Kenneth Bridge was still out of action, so we’ll have to take the detour over the old bridge.’

‘Relax.’ Macbeth laughed, grabbing Duff under the arm. ‘She won’t be setting a stopwatch, will she? And you look exhausted, so if you’re driving you’ll need some strong coffee. Come on, let’s sit down.’

Duff hesitated. ‘Thanks, my friend, but that’ll have to wait.’

‘A cup of coffee and she won’t notice the smell of whisky quite as easily.’

‘I’m considering becoming a teetotaller like you.’

‘Are you?’

‘Booze leads to three things: a colourful nose, sleep and pissing. In Duncan’s case, obviously sleep. I’ll go up and—’

Macbeth held on to his arm. ‘And booze is lust’s dupe, I’ve heard. Increases your lust but reduces performance. How was your night? Tell me. Slowly and in detail.’

Duff arched an eyebrow. Slowly and in detail. Was he using the interrogation term from their police college days as a jokey parody or did he know something? No, Macbeth didn’t talk in riddles. He didn’t have the patience or the ability. ‘There’s not much to tell. I stayed with a cousin.’

‘Eh? You never told me you had any family. I thought your grandfather was the last relation you had. Look, here’s the coffee. Just put it on the table, Jack. And try ringing Duncan again.’

Reassured that the receptionist was on the case, Duff went down the steps and greedily reached for the coffee. But stayed standing.

‘The family, yes,’ Macbeth said. ‘It’s a source of a constant guilty conscience, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, maybe,’ said Duff, who had burned his tongue with his first sip and was now blowing on the coffee.

‘How are they? Are they enjoying Fife?’

‘Everyone enjoys Fife.’

‘Duncan still isn’t answering his phone, sir.’

‘Thanks, Jack. Keep trying. Lots of people will have heavy heads this morning.’

Duff put down his cup. ‘Macbeth, I think I’ll wake him first and drink coffee afterwards, so we can get going.’

‘I’ll go up with you. He’s next to us,’ Macbeth said, taking a sip of his coffee. He spilled it on his hand and jacket sleeve. ‘Whoops. Have you got a paper towel, Jack?’

‘I’ll just—’

‘Hang about, Duff. That’s it, yes. Thanks, Jack. Come on, let’s go.’

They walked up the stairs.

‘Have you hurt yourself?’ Duff asked.

‘No. Why?’

‘I’ve never seen you climb stairs so slowly.’

‘I might have pulled a muscle during the Norse Rider chase.’

‘Hm.’

‘Otherwise. Sleep well?’

‘No,’ Duff said. ‘It was a terrible night. Thunder, lightning and rain.’

‘Yes, it was a bad night.’

‘So you didn’t sleep either?’

‘Well, I did—’

Duff turned and looked at him.

‘—after the worst of the storm had died down,’ Macbeth finished. ‘Here we are.’

Duff knocked. Waited and knocked again. Grabbed the door knob. The door was locked. And he had a sense, a sense something was not as it should be.

‘Is there a master key?’

‘I’ll go and ask Jack,’ Macbeth said.

‘Jack!’ Duff shouted. And then again, from the bottom of his lungs: ‘Jack!’

After a few seconds the receptionist’s head appeared over the edge of the stairs. ‘Yes, sir?’

‘Have you got a master key?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Come here and open the door at once.’

The receptionist ran up to them, taking short steps, rummaged in his jacket pocket and pulled out a key, put it in the lock and twisted.

Duff opened the door.

They stood staring. The first person to speak was the receptionist.

‘Holy shit.’

Macbeth examined the scene, conscious of the door threshold pressing against the sole of his foot, and heard Duff smash the glass of the fire alarm, which immediately began to howl. The dagger had been removed from the right-hand side of Duncan’s neck and Lady had added a stab on the left. The gun on the duvet had also been removed. Otherwise everything appeared to be how it had been.

‘Jack!’ Duff called over the howl. ‘Get everyone out of their rooms and assemble them in reception now. Not a word about what you’ve seen, all right?’

‘All r-right, sir.’

Doors down the corridor opened. Out of the closest came Lady, barefoot and in her dressing gown.

‘What’s up, darling? Is there a fire?’

She was good. They were back following the plan, he was still in the zone, and Macbeth felt at this second, at this moment, with everything apparently in chaos, that everything was actually on track. Right now he and the woman he loved were unbeatable, right now they were in total control — of the town, fate, the orbit of the stars. And he felt it now, it was like a high, as strong as anything Hecate could offer.

‘Where on earth are his bodyguards?’ Duff shouted, furious.