Macbeth

They sailed through the casino. She knew it was her high heels that made her half a head taller than him. Knew her young figure, elegant evening gown and stately, lissom walk made the men at the bar still stare after her. Knew this was something they didn’t have at the Obelisk.

Duff lay on the large double bed staring at the ceiling, at the crack in the paint he knew so well.

‘Afterwards, as I was leaving the meeting, Duncan took me aside and asked if I was disappointed,’ he explained. ‘He said we both knew I’d have been the natural candidate for the post.’

The crack had offshoots spreading in an apparently random way, but when he scrunched up his eyes, thereby losing focus, the crack seemed to follow a pattern, form an image. He just couldn’t work out what it was.

‘And what did you answer?’ came the voice over the running water in the bathroom. Even now, after having seen as much of each other as any two people can, she disliked him seeing her until she was ready. And that was fine by him.

‘I answered that, yes, I was disappointed. When he said they wanted Macbeth because he didn’t belong to the inner circle, my being one of those who had supported Duncan’s project right from the start was used against me.’

‘Well, that’s true. What did—?’

‘Duncan said there was another reason, but he didn’t want to mention it with the others present. The Sweno raid had only been partly successful as Sweno had got away. And it turned out I had received the tip-off so early that there would have been enough time to inform him. I had almost undone a year’s undercover work by what looked a lot like an ego trip. And Macbeth and SWAT had saved the whole operation. Therefore it would seem suspicious to choose me ahead of him. But at least he did give me a consolation prize.’

‘He gave you the Homicide Unit, and that’s not bad, is it?’

‘It’s smaller than Narco, but at least I escaped the humiliation of being a subordinate officer in Organised Crime.’

‘Who persuaded Duncan anyway?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Who argued Macbeth’s case? Duncan’s a listener; he likes consensus and goes for group decisions.’

‘Believe me, my dearest, no one lobbies for Macbeth. I doubt he knows what the word means. All he wants in life is to catch baddies and make sure his casino queen is happy.’

‘Speaking of which.’ She posed by the bathroom door. The gauzy negligee revealed more than it hid of course. Duff liked a lot about this woman, some things he wasn’t even able to articulate, but what he idolised was plain enough: her youth. The glow from the candles on the floor made the moisture in her eyes, on her red lips, on her shining teeth, sparkle. And yet tonight he needed something more. He wasn’t in the mood. After what had happened he didn’t feel like the buck he had been when he had started the day. But that could perhaps be changed.

‘Take it off,’ he said.

She laughed. ‘I’ve just put it on.’

‘It’s an order. Stay where you are and take it off. Slowly.’

‘Hm. Maybe. If I’m given a clearer order...’

‘Caithness, you are hereby ordered by a superior officer to turn your back, pull what you’re wearing over your head, lean forward and take a good hold of the door frame.’

Duff heard her little girlie gasp of shock. Perhaps it was put on for his sake, perhaps not. It was fine by him. He was getting in the mood.

Hecate strode across the damp floor of the central station, between the peeling walls and mumbling drug addicts. He noticed the gaze of two guys stooped over a spoon and syringe they were obviously sharing. They didn’t know him. No one knew him. Perhaps they were thinking the big man with the mustard-yellow cashmere coat, the carefully groomed, almost unnaturally black hair and the resplendent heavy Rolex looked like perfect prey which had just walked into the lion’s den. Or they may have had suspicions; perhaps there was something about the self-assured, determined gait, something about the gold-capped walking stick, which made a rhythmic tick-tock in time with the stiletto heels of the tall broad-shouldered woman who walked two steps behind him. If she was a woman. There might also have been something about the three men, all wearing grey lightweight coats, who had entered the station immediately before him and taken up a position by the wall. Perhaps that was why they sensed that they were in his den. He was the lion.

Hecate stopped, and let Strega go first down the narrow stairs reeking of urine to the toilet. Saw the two druggies lower their heads and concentrate on the task in hand — heating and injecting. Addicts. For Hecate this was a statement of fact without contempt or irritation. After all, they were his bread and butter.