Macbeth

She had occasionally wondered whether to send an anonymous letter to his radio station, saying how reassuring it was that there were still principled people like him, someone who took on the job of a lone, fearless watchdog. Speaking of which. Wasn’t that the second time she had heard that sound from the front door? She turned down the radio. Listened. There it was again. She crept over to the door and put her ear against it. A familiar creaking sound. She opened the door.

‘Duff. What are you doing?’

‘I... erm... am standing here. And thinking.’ He had his hands stuck deep down in his coat pockets and was rocking on his much-too-large shoes with the creaking soles.

‘Why didn’t you ring the bell?’

‘I have,’ Duff said. ‘I... The bell obviously doesn’t work.’

She opened the door wide, but he still seemed to be caught in two minds.

‘Why so glum, Duff?’

‘Am I glum?’

‘Sorry, I know there’s not much to be cheery about right now, but are you coming or going?’

His eyes flitted around. ‘Can I stay until midnight?’

‘Of course, but come in, will you? I’m cold.’

The sergeant rested his hands on the handlebars of his Honda CB450 ‘Black Bomber’. It was less than five years since he had bought it, and on good days he could squeeze a ton out of it. Nevertheless it felt a bit old now that the Honda CB750 superbike was on the market. He looked at his watch. Sixteen minutes to seven. The rush hour had subsided now, and darkness had fallen early. Waiting beside the road, he could see every single car that came towards the Gallows Hill junction. Sweno had sent them reinforcements from the club down south: three members, cousins they called them, had jumped on their bikes and arrived in town in less than three hours. They were sitting on their bikes, ready, by the pumps at the petrol station on the road along which the car was supposed to be coming. Appraising the models and number plates. Down the road, on the other side of the junction, he could see Colin standing on climbing irons up one of the posts by the junction box. The only entertainment they’d had so far was when they had done a trial run, and Colin had stuck a screwdriver in and turned. Brakes squealed on the road when the lights, without any warning, had changed from green to red. And seconds later, when they had changed back to green, engine revs had risen hesitantly and carefully, and cars crept across the junction while the sergeant flashed his headlights to signal to Colin that things were working as they should.

The sergeant looked at his watch again. A quarter to seven.

Sweno had needed a little time to make the decision, but the sergeant had the feeling that was more for reasons of caution than doubt. And that was confirmed when the three cousins from the south had drawn up in front of the club gate, a Harley Davidson chopper with high handlebars, a Harley FL 1200 Electra Glide and a Russian Ural with a sidecar and mounted machine gun. The guy on the Electra Glide had a sword with him, not curved like Sweno’s sabre, but it would do the job.

Fourteen minutes to seven.

‘Fleance...’

Something in his father’s voice made Fleance glance across. His father was always calm, but when something was wrong he had this voice that was even calmer. Like the time Fleance was seven and his father came home from the hospital after visiting Mum and said his name in that same eerily calm way.

‘Change of plans for this evening.’ His father shifted lane, tucked in behind a Ford Galaxy. ‘And the next few days.’

‘Really?’

‘You’re going to Capitol. Tonight.’

‘Capitol?’

‘Something’s happened. You’ll have lots of questions, my lad, but you won’t get any answers just yet. Drop me off at the Inverness, then you drive on at once. Pop home, take only what you need with you and go to Capitol. Drive steadily, not too fast, and you’ll get there late tomorrow. Got that?’

‘Yes, but what—’

‘No questions. You should stay there a few days, maybe weeks. As you know, your mother inherited a little flat. Take the notepad from the glove compartment.’

‘The one-room flat she called the rat hole?’

‘Yes. No wonder we never managed to sell it. Fortunately, I have to say now. The address is 66 Tannery Street, District 6. Right next to the Dolphin Nightclub. Second floor on the right. You’re safe there. Have you written that down?’

‘Yes.’ Fleance tore out the page and put the notepad back in the glove compartment. ‘But I’ll need a key, won’t I? I mean, who’ll let me in if it’s empty?’

‘It’s not empty.’

‘Tenants?’

‘Not exactly; I’ve let poor old cousin Alfie stay there. He’s so old and deaf he might not open up when you ring the bell, so you’ll have to improvise.’

‘Dad?’

‘Yes?’

‘Has this got anything to do with what Duff was after? He seemed very... intense.’

‘Yes, but no more questions, Fleance. You’ll just have to stay there, study some school books you take with you, get bored, but no phone calls, no letters, don’t say a peep to anyone about where you are. Just do as I say, and I’ll send for you when it’s safe to return.’