Macbeth

Before they went up the stairs to the mezzanine the young officer whispered that she should take off her high heels to make less noise. That meant she was no longer taller than him. On the mezzanine they first kept to the back, by the windows looking out over Workers’ Square, so that they couldn’t be seen from the gaming room below. Halfway along they moved towards the balustrade. They were partially hidden by the rope to the central chandelier and the genuine suit of Maximilian armour from the sixteenth century which she had bought at an auction in Augsburg. The idea was that when gamblers saw it up there it would give them an unconscious sense of being either protected or watched. Their own conscience would determine which. Lady and the officer crouched and peered down into the room, where twenty minutes earlier customers and staff had fled in panic. Lady had been standing on the roof looking up at the full moon and instinctively felt the evil when she heard the crash and screams from down below. She went down, grabbed one of the fleeing waiters, who said that some guy had fired a gun into the chandelier and was holding Jack.

She had already calculated the cost of a new chandelier, but it was obvious that would be nothing compared to the cost of the gun — which was at present pointing at the head of Jack, her best croupier — being fired one more time. After all, part of what her casino offered was safe excitement and relaxation; for a while you didn’t need to think about the crime in the streets outside. If the impression was created that Inverness Casino couldn’t offer that, the gaming room would be as empty as it was now. The only two people left were sitting at the blackjack table below the mezzanine on the other side. Poor Jack was ramrod-stiff and as white as a sheet.

Right behind him, holding a gun, sat the customer.

‘It would be hard to get a shot in from such a distance as long as he’s hiding behind your croupier,’ Macbeth whispered, taking out a little telescope from his black uniform. ‘We have to get closer. Who is he and what does he want?’

‘Ernest Collum. He says he’ll kill my croupier unless he’s given back everything he’s lost at the casino.’

‘And is that a lot?’

‘More than we have in cash here. Collum’s one of the addicts. An engineer and a number-crunching genius, so he knows the odds. They’re the worst. I’ve told him we’ll try and get the money, but the banks are closed, so it could take a while.’

‘We don’t have much time. I’m going in.’

‘How do you know?’

Macbeth moved back from the balustrade and tucked the telescope inside his uniform. ‘His pupils. He’s high and he’s going to shoot.’ He pressed a button on his walkie-talkie. ‘Code Four Six. Now. Take command, Banquo. Over.’

‘Banquo in command. Over.’

‘I’ll go with you,’ Lady said, following Macbeth.

‘I don’t think—’

‘This is my the casino. My Jack.’

‘Listen, ma’am—’

‘Collum knows me, and women calm him down.’

‘This is a police matter,’ Macbeth said and ran down the stairs.

‘I’m coming,’ Lady said and ran after him.

Macbeth came to a halt and stood in front of her.

‘Look at me,’ he said.

‘No, you look at me,’ she said. ‘Do I look as if I’m not going with you? He’s expecting me to bring the money.’

He looked at her. He had a good look. Looked at her in a way other men had looked at her. But also in a way no men or women had looked at her. They looked at her with fear or admiration, respect or desire, hatred, love or subservience, measured her with their eyes, judged her, misjudged her. But this young man looked at her as though he had finally found something. Which he recognised. Which he had been looking for.

‘Come on then,’ he said. ‘But keep your mouth shut, ma’am.’

The thick carpet muffled the sound of their feet as they entered the room.

The table where the two men were sitting was less well illuminated than usual because of the smashed chandelier. Jack’s face, stiffened into a mask of transfixed shock, didn’t change when he saw Lady and Macbeth coming towards him. Lady noticed the hammer of the gun rise.

‘Who are you?’ Collum’s voice was thick.

‘I’m Inspector Macbeth from SWAT,’ said the policeman, pulling out a chair and taking a seat. Laying both palms on the table so that they were visible. ‘My job is to negotiate with you.’

‘There’s nothing to negotiate, Inspector. I’ve been cheated by this bloody casino for years. It has ruined me. They fix the cards. She fixes the cards.’

‘And you’ve arrived at that conclusion after taking brew?’ Macbeth asked, tapping his fingers soundlessly on the felt. ‘It distorts reality, you know.’