Macbeth

‘You mentioned you spoke to the undercover guys in your old section, Duff?’

‘They say the murder came as a shock to everyone working on the street. No one knew anything. But everyone takes it as a foregone conclusion that Hecate’s behind it. A young guy down at the central station mentioned something about a police officer asking for dope — I don’t know if it was one of our undercover drugs men, but it definitely wasn’t either of the bodyguards. We’ll continue to look for clues that could lead us to where Hecate is. But it’s — as we know — at least as hard as finding Sweno.’

‘Thanks, Duff. Crime scene investigation, Caithness?’

‘Predicted finds,’ she said, looking at the notes in front of her. ‘We’ve identified various fingerprints in the deceased’s room and they match those of the three maids, the bodyguards and those who were in the room — Lady, Macbeth and Duff. As well as a set of prints we couldn’t identify for a while, but now we have a match with the prints of the previous occupants of the room. So when I say predicted finds that’s not exactly true; usually hotel rooms are full of unidentified fingerprints.’

‘The owner of the Inverness takes cleaning very seriously,’ Macbeth said drily.

‘Pathology confirms that the direct cause of death was two stab wounds. The wounds match the daggers that were found. And although the daggers were cleaned on the sheet and the bodyguards’ own clothing there was still more than enough blood on the blades and handles to establish it came from the deceased.’

‘Can we say Duncan?’ Macbeth asked. ‘Instead of deceased.’

‘As you wish. One dagger is bloodier than the other as it was the one that cut the dece— erm Duncan’s carotid artery, hence the splash of blood over the duvet, as you can see on this photograph.’ Caithness pushed a black-and-white photo into the middle of the table, which the others dutifully examined. ‘Full autopsy report will be ready tomorrow morning. We can say more then.’

‘More about what?’ Duff asked. ‘What he had for dinner? As we all know, we had the same. Or what illnesses he had that he didn’t die of? If we’re going to keep up the pace it’s essential now that we focus on information that’s important.’

‘An autopsy,’ Caithness said, and Macbeth noticed the quiver in her voice, ‘can confirm or deny the assumed sequence of events. And I’d assume that was pretty important.’

‘It is, Caithness,’ Macbeth said. ‘Anything else?’

She showed some more photos, talked about other medical and technical evidence, but none of it pointed in a direction that was different from the general consensus around the table: that the two bodyguards had killed Duncan. There was also agreement that the guards didn’t seem to have a motive, therefore other forces must have been behind the murder, but the consequent discussion about whether anyone else apart from Hecate could have been responsible was brief and unproductive.

Macbeth suggested postponing the press conference until ten o’clock pending the location and briefing of Malcolm. Lennox pointed out that nine was a better time for the press as they had early deadlines on a Sunday.

‘Thank you, Lennox,’ Macbeth said. ‘But our agenda is what counts and not sales figures early tomorrow.’

‘I think that’s stupid,’ Lennox said. ‘We’re the new management team, and it’s unwise to make ourselves unpopular with the press at the very first opportunity.’

‘Your view has been noted,’ Macbeth said. ‘Unless Malcolm appears and says anything to the contrary, we meet here at nine and go through what has to be said at the press conference.’

‘And who will give the press conference?’ Duff asked.

Before Macbeth had the chance to answer, the door opened. It was Priscilla, Lennox’s assistant.

‘Sorry to interrupt,’ she said. ‘A patrol car has reported that Malcolm’s car is parked at the container harbour. It’s empty and there’s no sign of Malcolm.’

Macbeth felt the silence in the room. Savoured the knowledge that they didn’t share. And the control it gave him.

‘Where in the container harbour?’ Macbeth asked.

‘On the quay by one of the canals.’

Macbeth nodded slowly. ‘Send divers.’

‘Divers?’ Lennox said. ‘Isn’t that a bit premature?’

‘I think Macbeth’s right,’ Priscilla interrupted, and the others turned to her in astonishment. She gulped. ‘They found a letter on the car seat.’

12

The press conference started at ten precisely. When Macbeth entered Scone Hall and walked to the podium, flashes fired off from all angles and cast grotesque fleeting shadows of him on the wall behind. He placed his papers on the lectern in front of him, looked down at them for a few seconds, then coughed and scanned the full rows of seats. He had never enjoyed speaking in front of audiences. Once, long ago, the very thought of it had been worse than the most hazardous mission. But it had got better. And now, this evening, he felt happy. He would enjoy it. Because he was in control and knew something they didn’t. And because he had just inhaled a line of brew. That was all he needed.