‘At the last shooting test you beat the twenty-year-old record held by him over there.’ Macbeth nodded to Banquo. ‘Congratulations, that’s a damn fine achievement. You know what it means right here and now?’
‘Er... no, sir.’
‘Good, because it means absolutely nothing. What you have to do here is watch and listen to Inspector Banquo and learn. You won’t save the day today. That’s for later. Understand?’
Olafson’s slack jaw and lower lip were working but were clearly unable to produce a sound, so he just nodded.
Macbeth laid a hand on the young man’s shoulder. ‘Bit nervous?’
‘Bit, sir.’
‘That’s normal. Try to relax. And one more thing, Olafson.’
‘Yes?’
‘Don’t mess up.’
‘What’s happening?’ Bonus asked.
‘I know what’s going to happen,’ Hecate said, straightening his back and swinging his telescope away from the quay. ‘So I don’t need this.’ He sat down beside Bonus. Bonus had noticed that he often did that. Sat down beside you instead of opposite. As though he didn’t like you looking straight at him.
‘They’ve got Sweno and the amphetamine?’
‘On the contrary. Sweno’s seized one of Duff’s men.’
‘What? Aren’t you worried?’
‘I never bet on one horse, Bonus. And I’m more worried about the bigger picture. What do you think of Chief Commissioner Duncan?’
‘His promise that you’ll be arrested?’
‘That doesn’t concern me at all, but he’s removed many of my former associates in the police and that’s already created problems in the markets. Come on, you’re a good judge of character. You’ve seen him, heard him. Is he as incorruptible as they say?’
Bonus shrugged. ‘Everyone has a price.’
‘You’re right there, but the price is not always money. Not everyone is as simple as you.’
Bonus ignored the insult by not perceiving it as such. ‘To know how Duncan can be bribed you have to know what he wants.’
‘Duncan wants to serve the herd,’ Hecate said. ‘Earn the town’s love. Have a statue erected he didn’t order himself.’
‘Tricky. It’s easier to bribe greedy vermin like us than pillars of society like Duncan.’
‘You’re right as far as bribery is concerned,’ Hecate said. ‘And wrong with respect to pillars of society and vermin.’
‘Oh?’
‘The foundation of capitalism, dear Bonus. The individual’s attempt to get rich enriches the herd. It’s mechanics pure and simple and happens without us seeing or thinking about it. You and I are pillars of society, not deluded idealists like Duncan.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘The moral philosopher Adam Hand thought so.’
‘Producing and selling drugs serves society?’
‘Anyone who supplies a demand helps to build society. People like Duncan who want to regulate and limit are unnatural and in the long run harmful to us all. So how can Duncan, for the good of the town, be rendered harmless? What’s his weakness? What can we use? Sex, dope, family secrets?’
‘Thank you for your confidence, Hecate, but I really don’t know.’
‘That’s a shame,’ said Hecate, gently tapping his stick on the carpet as he observed one of the boys remove the wire from the cork of a new bottle of champagne. ‘You see, I’ve begun to suspect Duncan has only one weak point.’
‘And that is?’
‘The length of his life.’
Bonus recoiled in his chair. ‘I really hope you haven’t invited me here to ask me to...’
‘Not at all, my dear flounder. You’ll be allowed to lie still in the mud.’
Bonus heaved a sigh of relief as he watched the boy struggle with the cork.
‘But,’ Hecate said, ‘you have the gifts of ruthlessness, disloyalty and influence that give you power over the people I need to have power over. I hope I can rely on you when help is needed. I hope you can be my invisible hand.’
There was a loud bang.
‘There we are!’ Bonus laughed, patting the boy on the back as he tried to get as much of the unrestrained champagne into the glasses.
Duff lay still on the tarmac. Beside him his men stood equally still watching the Norse Riders, less than ten metres away, preparing to leave. Sivart and Sweno stood in the darkness outside the cone of light, but Duff could see the young officer’s body shaking and Sweno’s sabre blade, which rested against Sivart’s throat. Duff could see that the least pressure or movement would pierce the skin, the artery and drain the man’s blood in seconds. And Duff could feel his own panic when he considered the consequences. Not only the consequences of having one of his men’s blood on his hands and record, but the consequences of his privately orchestrated actions failing miserably just as the chief commissioner was about to appoint a head of Organised Crime. Sweno nodded to one of the Norse Riders, who dismounted from his motorbike, stood behind Sivart and pointed a gun at his head. Sweno pulled down his visor, stepped into the light, spoke to the man with the sergeant’s stripes on his leather jacket, straddled his bike, saluted with two fingers to his helmet and rode off down the quayside. Duff had to control himself not to loose off a shot at him. The sergeant gave some orders and a second later the motorbikes growled off into the night. Only two unmanned motorbikes were left after the others had followed Sweno and the sergeant.
Duff told himself not to give way to panic, told himself to think. Breathe, think. Four men in Norse Rider regalia were left on the quay. One stood behind Sivart in the shadows. One stood in the light keeping the police covered with an assault rifle, an AK-47. Two men, presumably the pillion riders, got into the lorry. Duff heard the continuous strained whine as the ignition key was turned and for a second he hoped that the old iron monster wouldn’t start. Cursed as the first low growl rose to a loud rumbling rattle. The lorry moved off.
‘We’ll give them ten minutes,’ shouted the man with the AK-47. ‘Think of something pleasant in the meantime.’
Duff stared at the lorry’s rear lights slowly fading into the darkness. Something pleasant? A mere four and a half tons of drugs heading away from him, along with what would have been the biggest mass arrest this side of the war. It didn’t help that they knew Sweno and his people had been there right in front of them if they couldn’t tell the judge and jury they had seen their faces and not just fourteen sodding helmets. Something pleasant ? Duff closed his eyes.
Sweno.
He’d had him here in the palm of his hand. Shit, shit, shit!
Duff listened. Listened for something, anything. But all that could be heard was the meaningless whisper of the rain.
‘Banquo’s got the guy holding the lad in his sights,’ Macbeth said. ‘Have you got the other one, Olafson?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You have to shoot at the same time, OK. Fire on the count of three. Banquo?’
‘I need more light on the target. Or younger eyes. I might hit the boy as it is.’
‘My target has lots of light,’ Olafson whispered. ‘We can swap.’
‘If we miss and our lad is killed, we’d prefer it if it was Banquo who missed. Banquo, what’s the maximum speed of a fully loaded Stalin lorry, do you reckon?’
‘Hm. Sixty maybe.’
‘Good, but time’s getting short to achieve all our objectives. So we’d better do a bit of improvising.’
‘Are you going to try your daggers?’ Banquo asked Macbeth.