Macbeth

Macbeth held him back. He had seen it now. Three of the men across the road had looked up, braced themselves. They were standing apart but among the others, and there was a similarity: they all wore grey lightweight coats. ‘Just let her talk,’ Macbeth whispered.

Strega smiled. ‘There’s no threat. Hecate won’t do anything; he’s just stating an interesting fact. He thinks you’ll be the next chief commissioner.’

‘Me?’ Macbeth laughed. ‘Duncan’s deputy would take over of course, and his name’s Malcolm. Be off with you.’

‘Hecate’s prophecies never err,’ said the man-woman. ‘And you know that.’ She stood opposite Macbeth without moving, and Macbeth realised she was still taller than him.

‘Well?’ she said. ‘Is your casino lady keeping you clean?’

Banquo saw Macbeth stiffen. And thought this Strega should be happy to be considered a woman. Macbeth snorted, looked as if he was going to say something but changed his mind. Shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Opened his mouth again. Nothing came out this time either. Then he turned and strode towards the entrance of police HQ.

The tall woman watched him. ‘And as for you, Banquo, aren’t you curious to know what’s in store for you?’

‘No,’ he said and followed Macbeth.

‘Or your son, Fleance?’

Banquo stopped in his tracks.

‘A good, hard-working boy,’ Strega said. ‘And Hecate promises that if he and his father behave and follow the rules of the game, in the fullness of time he’ll also become chief commissioner.’

Banquo turned to her.

‘A planned rise,’ she said. Gave a slight bow and smiled, turned and grabbed the other two under her arms. ‘Come on, sisters.’

Banquo stared after this bizarre trio until they had rounded the corner of HQ. So out of place had they seemed that when they were gone he had to ask himself if they had really been there.

‘Lots of fruitcakes on the streets nowadays,’ Banquo said as he caught up with Macbeth in the foyer before the reception desk.

‘Nowadays?’ Macbeth said, pressing the lift button impatiently again. ‘Fruitcakes have always prospered in this town. Did you notice the ladies had minders?’

‘Hecate’s invisible army?’

The lift doors glided open.

‘Duff,’ Macbeth said, stepping to the side. ‘Now how...?’

‘Macbeth and Banquo,’ said the blond man, striding past them towards the door to the street.

‘Goodness me,’ Banquo said. ‘A stressed man.’

‘That’s what it’s like when you’ve got the top job.’ Macbeth smiled, walked in and pressed the button for the basement floor. The SWAT floor.

‘Have you noticed how Duff’s shoes always creak?’

‘It’s because he always buys shoes too big for him,’ Macbeth said.

‘Why?’

‘No idea,’ Macbeth replied and managed to stop the doors closing in front of the officer running over from reception.

‘Just had a call from the chief commissioner’s office,’ he said, out of breath. ‘Telling us to ask you to go up the minute you arrive.’

‘Right,’ Macbeth said and let go of the doors.

‘Trouble?’ Banquo asked after they had closed.

‘Probably,’ Macbeth said, pressing the button for the fourth floor. Feeling the stitches in his shoulder begin to itch.

5

Lady walked through the gaming room. The light from the immense chandeliers fell softly on the dark mahogany where they were playing blackjack and poker, on the green felt where the dice would dance later in the evening, on the spear-shaped gold spire that stood up like a minaret in the middle of the spinning roulette wheel. She’d had the chandeliers made as smaller copies of the four-and-a-half-ton chandelier in Dolmabahçe Palace in Istanbul, while the spire pointing from the middle of the ceiling down to the roulette table was a copy of the spire in the roulette wheel. The chandeliers were anchored with cords tied to the banisters of the mezzanine in such a way that they could be lowered every Monday and the glass cleaned. This was the kind of detail that passed straight over most customers’ heads. Like the small, discreet lilies she’d had sewn into the thick, sound-muffling burgundy carpets she had bought in Italy for a tiny fortune. But they didn’t go over her head, she saw the matching spires and only she knew what the lilies commemorated. That was enough. For this was hers.