Macbeth

‘Take it easy now, Duff. I didn’t say what or who it was about, only that it concerned corruption at a high level. The point is that this judge is reliable. He lives elsewhere, so he’s out of Macbeth, Sweno or Hecate’s control. As a judge in a federal court of law he can hook up with the federal police, so we can leapfrog HQ and prosecute in Capitol, where Macbeth can’t pull any strings. The judge is coming here in three days and he’s agreed to meet us in total secrecy.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Jones.’

Lennox saw Duff staring at him.

‘Lars Jones,’ Lennox said. ‘Anything wrong?’

‘You’ve got pupils like a junkie.’

Lennox moistened his tongue and laughed. ‘That’s how it is when you’re born half-albino. Eyes sensitive to light. That’s one reason my family prefers indoor jobs.’

Duff shivered in his coat. Looked over at Inverness Casino again. ‘So, three days. What shall we do in the meantime?’

Lennox shrugged. ‘Keep our heads down. Don’t rock the boat. And... I can’t think of a third way to say that.’

‘I’m already dreading my next meeting with Macbeth.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘I’m no actor.’

‘You’ve never fooled anyone?’

‘Yes, but people always see through me.’

Lennox glanced at Duff. ‘Oh? At home?’

Duff shrugged. ‘Even my lad, who’ll be nine in a couple of days, knows when his dad’s telling fibs. And Macbeth knows me better than anyone.’

‘Strange,’ Lennox said, ‘that two people who are so different have been such close friends.’

‘We’ll have to talk later,’ Duff said, looking to the west. ‘If I set off now I’ll be in Fife by sunset.’

Lennox stood looking in the same direction as Duff. And thought it was good that nature had arranged things in such a way that rain showers always hid the view from those who were behind so that you could always be optimistic about a quick improvement in the weather.

‘I have a feeling we’re over the worst,’ Macbeth said, stretching for the lighter on the bedside table and lighting his cigarette. ‘Everything will get better now, my sweet. We’re back where we should be. This town is ours.’

Lady rested a hand on her chest, felt her still-racing heart under the silk sheet. And talked between breaths: ‘If your newly acquired enthusiasm is an indicator of your strength, darling—’

‘Mm?’

‘—then we’re unbeatable. Are you aware how much they love you out there? People in the casino talk about you, say you’re the town’s saviour. And do you read the papers? Today The Times suggested in its leader that you should stand in the mayoral elections.’

‘Was that your friend, the editor?’ Macbeth grinned. ‘Because you asked him?’

‘No, no. The leader wasn’t about you. It was a comment piece on Tourtell not having a real rival and being re-elected despite being unpopular.’

‘You don’t become popular by being Kenneth’s lackey.’

‘So your name was mentioned as someone who theoretically could challenge Tourtell. What do you say to that?’

‘To standing as mayor? Me?’ Macbeth laughed and scratched his forearm. ‘Thank you, but no thank you. I’ve got a big enough office and now we have more than enough power to do what we want.’ His nail rasped over the little hole in his skin. Power. He had injected himself with a syringe, and the sales pitch hadn’t exaggerated.

‘You’re right, darling,’ she said. ‘But muse on it a little anyway. When the idea matures it will perhaps feel different — who knows? By the way, Jack received a parcel for you this morning. A biker brought it. Heavy and very well packed.’

Macbeth waited for the feeling of ice in his veins, but it didn’t come. Must have been the effect of the new dope. ‘Where did you put it?’

‘On the hat shelf in your wardrobe,’ she said, pointing.

‘Thank you.’

He slowly smoked his cigarette listening to her fall asleep beside him. Stared at the solid brown oak door of the wardrobe. Then he laid his head on the pillow and blew rings up into the beams of moonlight from the window, saw them twist and wreathe like an Arab belly dancer. He wasn’t afraid. He had SWAT protecting him, he had Hecate protecting him, the gods of destiny were smiling on him. He lifted his head and stared at the wardrobe again. Not a sound came from it. The ghosts had made themselves scarce. And it was perfectly still outside, no drumming on the window. For sunshine did follow the rain. Love did purge you of the blood of battle. Forgiveness did come after sin.

19

‘Good morning, everyone,’ Macbeth said, meeting the eyes of everyone around the table. ‘Except that it isn’t a good morning, but the second one Banquo has been dead and the thirty-sixth hour his murderer has been wandering around free and unpunished. Let’s start with a minute’s silence for Banquo.’

Duff closed his eyes.