Macbeth

‘The person who has to be dispatched is the guy who ensured the dope you were going to live off ended up in the river. Inspector Banquo.’ Macbeth watched the sergeant nod slowly. ‘The other is a cop sprog who will be in the same car.’

‘And why are they to be expedited?’

‘Is that important?’

‘Usually I wouldn’t ask, but this is police officers we’re talking about, and that means there’s going to be loads of trouble.’

‘Not with these ones. We know Inspector Banquo is working with Hecate, we just can’t prove it, so we have to get rid of him another way. This is the best option from our point of view.’

The sergeant nodded again. Macbeth had counted on him understanding this logic.

‘How do we know you’ll keep your part of a potential deal?’

‘Well,’ Macbeth said, squinting at the calendar girl above the sergeant’s head. ‘We have five witnesses in the bar who can vouch for Acting Chief Commissioner Macbeth being here in person and giving you a commission. You don’t think I’d want to give you any reason to make that public, do you?’

The sergeant leaned back in his chair so far it touched the wall, studying Macbeth while making growling noises and pulling at his beard. ‘And when and where would this job potentially take place?’

‘Tonight. You know Gallows Hill in District 2 West?’

‘That’s where they hanged my great-great-grandfather.’

‘On the main road above the lanes where the West Enders go shopping there’s a big junction.’

‘I know the one you mean.’

‘They’ll be in a black Volvo at the lights some time between half past six and ten to seven. Probably at exactly a quarter to. He’s a punctual man.’

‘Hm. There are always a lot of patrol cars there.’

Macbeth smiled. ‘Not tonight there won’t be.’

‘Oh, really? I’ll think about it and give you an answer at four.’

Macbeth laughed. ‘Sweno will think about it, you mean. Great. Pick up a pen, and I’ll give you my phone number and the registration number of the Volvo. And one more thing.’

‘Uhuh?’

‘I want their heads.’

‘Whose?’

‘The two cops. I want their heads. Delivered to the door.’

The sergeant stared at Macbeth as if he considered him insane.

‘The customer requires a receipt,’ Macbeth said. ‘Last time I ordered a hit job I didn’t ask for a receipt and that was an error. I didn’t get what I ordered.’

Late in the afternoon Duff made a decision.

His thoughts had been churning for hours in a brain where the traffic felt as slow-moving as that on the road in front of him and the way ahead as full of choices. They still hadn’t replaced the railings on Kenneth Bridge, so the traffic eastbound was being redirected to the old bridge and the queue backed up to District 2, where Duff’s car moved forward at a snail’s pace from junction to junction, which all threw up the question: left, right, straight ahead, what’s the fastest?

Duff’s own particular junction was this.

Should he go to Macbeth and the others with what he had found out on the quayside? Should he keep it to himself? But suppose the one-eyed boy wasn’t telling the truth or Banquo was able to deny the accusations? What would the consequences be for Duff if in this chaotic situation he made false accusations against Banquo, who, with Macbeth, had suddenly become a powerful figure?

Duff could of course simply present the information the way he had been given it and let Lennox and Macbeth evaluate it themselves, but then he would lose the chance to register a badly needed personal triumph by single-handedly arresting and unmasking Banquo.

On the other hand, he couldn’t afford another blunder after his raid on the container harbour. It had cost him the Organised Crime appointment; another blunder could easily cost him his job.

Another junction: Organised Crime would be up for grabs again if Macbeth became chief commissioner, and if Duff seized the opportunity now, dared and won, the unit could be his.

He had weighed up asking Caithness for her opinion, but then the cat would be out of the bag, he couldn’t play innocent and would be forced to do something. Take a risk.

The way he had chosen in the end was one where he didn’t risk much, but where he would still get the credit if it all went as he hoped.

Duff turned off the little railway bridge and into the yard in front of the modest brick building on the other side. It had taken him more than three quarters of an hour to cover the short distance from HQ to Banquo’s address.

‘Duff,’ said Banquo, who opened the door seconds after Duff had rung the bell. ‘What gives?’

‘A party by the looks of it,’ Duff said.

‘Yes, and that’s why I can’t decide whether to take this or not.’ Banquo held up the holster with his service gun.

‘Leave it behind. It’ll only make a bulge in your suit. But that tie knot is no good.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Banquo said, pressing his chin down against his white shirt collar in a futile attempt to see the knot. ‘It’s been good enough for fifty years, ever since I was confirmed.’

‘That’s a poor man’s knot, Banquo. Come on, let me show you...’