Macbeth

The lift doors opened; two uniformed policemen on their way in stopped and backed out again. It was a rule Kenneth had introduced, and Duncan had abolished, that the chief commissioner should have the lift to himself. But before Macbeth could say they were welcome the lift doors had closed again and he continued down on his own.

On the pavement outside headquarters he bumped into a man in a grey coat reading a newspaper who mumbled, ‘Sorry, Macbeth.’ Not so strange because when Macbeth looked up he saw his own face on the front page. THIRD OFFICER TAKES THE HELM. Not a bad headline. Might have been Lady’s suggestion. The editor was putty in her hands.

Macbeth pulled the big hat down over his face and walked with long strides. Now, in the middle of the day, the streets were so chock-a-block with traffic it was faster to walk than drive to the central station. And besides it was just as well no one saw the chief commissioner’s limousine there.

God knows what Sweno had said to Priscilla to be put through. At any rate he hadn’t said his name when Macbeth had him on the line, he hadn’t needed to. If you heard his voice once you didn’t forget it. The bass made the plastic in the receiver quiver. He said that Macbeth’s promise had been the immediate release of the Norse Riders, and twelve hours had already passed. Macbeth had answered that it wasn’t that simple: papers had to be signed by judges and lawyers as a prosecution had already been raised. But Sweno could safely prepare a welcome speech for the homecoming party in two days.

‘That’s two days too many,’ Sweno had said. ‘And the two last days you will ever get from me. The day after tomorrow, at eleven o’clock on the dot, one of our members will ring the home of one of the town’s judges, I won’t say which, and confess his involvement in Banquo’s murder and how we knew exactly where Banquo and Fleance would be.’

‘One of your kamikaze pilots?’

‘In addition, we have seven witnesses that saw you come to our club house.’

‘Relax and think about your speech, Sweno. We’ll drop your boys outside the club gate tomorrow afternoon at half past three.’

And with that Macbeth rang off.

At the foot of the steps to the central station Macbeth scoured the area. Saw another grey coat, but not the same one. The hat hid his face, and he was after all only one of many smartly dressed men who ran up these steps every day to buy whatever they needed to function as surprisingly well as they did.

He stood where he had last stood, in the corridor, by the stairs down to the toilet. The young boy was nowhere to be seen. Macbeth hopped from foot to foot impatiently. It was many hours since he had felt the need, but it was only now, as he was about to satisfy his need, that it was really bad.

She appeared after what felt like an hour, but his watch told him only ten minutes had passed. She had a white stick in her hand, whatever that was supposed to mean.

‘I need two bags,’ he said.

‘You need to meet someone,’ Strega said. ‘Put these in your ears and wear these.’ She held out a pair of earplugs and some glasses that looked like a cross between swimming and welding goggles, the type he had seen blind people wear.

‘Why should I?’

‘Because if you don’t you won’t get any brew.’

He hesitated. No, he didn’t hesitate, he just took his time. He would have walked on his hands if that was what they demanded. The goggles were painted, so he could see nothing at all. Strega held him and whirled him round several times, evidently so that he would lose his sense of direction. Then she handed him the white stick and led him off. Ten minutes later he knew they had walked in the rain, people and traffic had been around them, the ear-plugs didn’t shut out all sound. Strega had helped him up onto a cement edge a metre and a half high and from there they had walked on gravel or sand. Then up onto another cement edge and inside somewhere, he guessed — at least it was warmer and the air was drier. And he had been sat down on a chair where someone took out the earplugs and told him to keep the goggles on.

He heard someone approaching, and a tap-tap sound stopped right in front of him.

‘I regret to have to bring you here in this way.’ The voice was unusually gentle and soft and sounded as if it belonged to an elderly man. ‘But I thought — all things taken into account — it was best to meet face to face. That is, you can’t see mine of course, but if I were you, Macbeth, I would be glad of that.’

‘I understand. It means you intend to let me leave alive.’

‘You’re not smart, but you’re more smart than stupid, Macbeth. That was why we chose you.’

‘Why am I here?’

‘Because we’re concerned. We knew of course of your affection for stimulants before we chose you, but we weren’t aware that it would take over so completely and so quickly. In short, we have to find out if you’re trustworthy or we will have to swap you.’

‘Swap me for what?’