Macbeth

‘Thanks.’ The barn door pulled a long-barrelled Colt from his waistband and the sword from its sheath, dismounted his bike and set off towards the car. He nonchalantly ran the sword blade along the wall and over the post of the NO PARKING sign. The sergeant studied the back of his leather jacket. A pirate flag with the skull over a swastika. No style. He sighed. ‘Cover him with the shotgun, Colin.’

Colin smoothed his walrus moustache with a bandaged hand, then broke open a short-barrelled shotgun and inserted two shells.

The sergeant saw a couple of faces appear in windows across the road, but still heard no sirens, only the monotonous, unceasing burglar alarm as the guy entered the shop and approached the car. He put the sword under his arm, pulled open the passenger door with his free hand and pointed the revolver at the person sitting there. The sergeant automatically clenched his teeth as he waited for the bang.

Fleance tore at the belt, but the infuriating buckle was stuck. He tried to wriggle out. Fleance raised his knees to his chin, swung himself round in the seat and placed his feet against the passenger door to push himself over towards his father and the driver’s seat. At that moment he caught sight of the man stepping into the shop with a sword and a revolver in his hands. It was too late to get away now, and Fleance didn’t even have time to think how frightened he was.

The passenger door was wrenched open. Fleance saw the gleam of a dental brace and a revolver being raised and realised the man was out of reach for the kick he had planned. So instead he reached out with one foot for the opened door in sheer desperation. A normal shoe wouldn’t have fitted behind the internal door handle, but the long thin toe of Macbeth’s old winkle-pickers slipped in easily. He glimpsed the blackness of eternity in the revolver muzzle, then pulled the door to as hard as he could. There was a smack as the door hit the man’s wrist and jammed it in the opening. And a muffled thud as the revolver hit the floor.

Fleance heard swearing, slammed the door shut with one hand while searching for the revolver with the other.

The door was torn open again, and there stood the dental-brace man with a sword raised over his head. Fleance patted the floor everywhere — under the seat — where the hell had the gun gone? Dental Brace then obviously realised that the door opening was too narrow for him to swing the sword and he would have to stab with it. He brought his elbow back, aimed the point at Fleance and leaped at him. Fleance lashed out and met him halfway with two outstretched legs, which sent the guy staggering backwards through the room to finally topple back and smash a glass counter in his fall.

‘Colin,’ sighed the sergeant. ‘Please go in and bring this vaudeville to an end.’

‘Right, boss.’ Before dismounting Colin checked he would still be able to pull the trigger with the hand Macbeth had impaled with a dagger.

Fleance had given up his struggle, realising that he was trapped, he wouldn’t be able to free himself from the seat belt before it was too late. So he lay sideways on the seat, watched the guy with the sword stand up from behind the smashed counter, fragments of glass falling from his broad shoulders. He was more careful this time. Took up a position beyond Fleance’s reach. Checked he had a good grip on the sword. Fleance knew he was aiming for where he could do most instant damage and remain out of Fleance’s reach. His groin.

‘Bloody shide down,’ the man snarled, spat on the sword, brought back his arm, took the necessary step closer and bared a row of clenched teeth. The soft, warm shop lighting made his brace sparkle, which for one instant looked like it belonged to the shop’s inventory. Fleance raised the gun and fired. Glimpsed a surprised expression and a small black hole in the middle of the brace before the man fell.

The pianoforte’s soft, discreet tones tickled Macbeth’s ears.

‘Dear guests, acquaintances, colleagues and friends of the casino,’ he said, looking at the faces surrounding him, ‘even if not everyone has arrived yet, I’d like on behalf of the woman you all know and fear—’ muted polite laughter and nods to a laughing Lady ‘—to wish you a warm welcome and propose a toast before we take our seats at the table.’

Colin stopped when he saw his cousin from the south fall to the floor. The noise of the shot had drowned the alarm, and he saw a hand holding a revolver sticking out of the car-door opening. He reacted quickly. Fired one barrel. Saw the shell hit, saw the light-coloured inside of the door turn red, the window in the door explode and the revolver fall to the shop floor.

Colin walked quickly towards the motionless car. Adrenaline had made his senses so receptive that he took everything in. The faint vibration of the exhaust pipe, the absence of any heads in the smashed rear window and a sound he just recognised through the drone of the alarm. The belching sound of revving. Shit!