In response the door opened and Macbeth jumped up from his chair. A little man with a wispy grey beard and eyelids that appeared to be one size too large came out.
‘Well?’ Macbeth asked. ‘Doctor... er...’
‘Dr Alsaker,’ Jack said.
‘I’ve given her something to calm her down,’ the psychiatrist said.
‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘Hard to say.’
‘Hard? You’re supposed to be the best.’
‘That’s nice to hear, but not even the very best know all the labyrinths of the mind, Mr Macbeth.’
‘You have to cure her.’
‘As I said, with the little we really know about the human mind that’s a lot to ask...’
‘I’m not asking, Doctor. I’m giving you an ultimatum.’
‘An ultimatum, Mr Macbeth?’
‘If you don’t make her normal again, I’ll have to arrest you as a charlatan.’
Alsaker looked at him from under his oversized eyelids. ‘I can see that you have slept badly and you’re beside yourself with worry, Chief Commissioner. I recommend you take a day off work. Now as for your wife—’
‘You’re mistaken,’ Macbeth said, taking a dagger from his shoulder holster. ‘And the punishment for not doing your job is draconian during the present state of emergency.’
‘Sir...’ Jack started to say.
‘Surgery,’ Macbeth said. ‘That’s what’s needed, that’s what a real doctor does: he cuts away what is pernicious. He excludes any thought of the patient’s pain because that only makes him vacillate. You remove and destroy the offending item, a tumour or a rotting foot, to save the whole. It’s not that the tumour or the foot are evil in themselves, they simply have to be sacrificed. Isn’t that so, Doctor?’
The psychiatrist tilted his head. ‘Are you sure it’s your wife who needs to be examined and not yourself, Mr Macbeth?’
‘You have your ultimatum.’
‘And I’m leaving now. So you’d better stab me in the back with that thing if you need to.’
Macbeth watched Alsaker turn his back and set off towards the stairs. He stared at the dagger in his hand. What on earth was he doing?
‘Alsaker!’ Macbeth ran after the psychiatrist. Caught up with him and knelt down before him. ‘Please, you have to, you have to help her. She’s all I have. I must have her back. You must get her back. I’ll pay whatever it costs.’
Alsaker held his beard between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Is it brew?’ he asked.
‘Power,’ Macbeth said.
‘Naturally.’
‘You know it?’
‘Under a variety of sobriquets, but the chemicals are the same. People think it’s an anti-depressant because it acts as an upper the first few times until the episodes become psychotic.’
‘Yes, yes, that’s what she takes.’
‘I asked what you take, Mr Macbeth. And now I can see. How long have you been taking power?’
‘I...’
‘Not long evidently. The first thing to go is your teeth. Then your mind. And it’s not easy to escape from the prison of psychosis. Do you know what they call you when you’re completely hooked on power? A POW.’
‘Now listen here—’
‘A prisoner of war. Neat, isn’t it?’
‘I’m not your patient now, Alsaker. I beg you not to leave until you’ve done all you can.’
‘I promise to return, but I have other patients to attend to now.’
‘Jack,’ Macbeth said without moving or taking his eyes off the psychiatrist.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Show him.’
‘But...’
‘He’s bound by the Hippocratic oath.’
Jack unwound the cloth from the bundle and held it out for the doctor. He took a step back covering his nose and mouth with his hand.
‘She thinks it’s hers,’ Macbeth said. ‘If not for my sake and hers, then for the town’s, Doctor.’
Macbeth felt a strange pressure in his ears as the door closed behind him. Finally, he thought, I’m in the nuthouse. The walls of the little square room, where three people sat observing him, were padded, although there was a window.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ said the man at the table in front of him. ‘I’m just going to ask a few questions. It’ll all be over soon.’
‘It’s not the questions I’m frightened of,’ Macbeth said, sitting down, ‘it’s the answers.’
The man smiled, the music from the speaker above the window died, and he put a finger to his mouth as a red light on the wall came on.
‘This is Rolling News with Walt Kite,’ the man trilled, turning to the mike in front of him. ‘We have a visit from the town’s new favourite, Chief Commissioner Macbeth, who after wiping out one of the town’s most notorious drugs gangs, the Norse Riders, is now tirelessly chasing their corrupt collaborators inside the police’s own ranks. He has won the hearts of the people and lifted their hopes with inspiring speeches in which he says we’re entering new times. Chief Commissioner Macbeth, isn’t this just rhetoric?’
Macbeth cleared his throat. He was up for this. He was a new man. Once again he was perfectly medicated. ‘I’m a simple man and I don’t know much about rhetoric, Walt. I’ve only said what was on my mind. And that is that if this town has the will it has the muscle power to raise itself. But neither the chief commissioner nor politicians can lift a town; its citizens have to do that themselves.’
‘But they can be inspired and led?’
‘Naturally.’
‘You’re already being touted as mayor material. Is this something that might tempt you, Chief Commissioner Macbeth?’
‘I’m a police officer and I wish only to serve the town in the job I have been appointed to.’
‘As a humble servant of the people, in other words. Your predecessor, Duncan, also saw himself as a servant of the people, though he wasn’t so humble. He promised to catch the town’s most powerful criminal, Hecate, also known as the Invisible Hand, within a year. Now, you’ve dealt with the Norse Riders. What deadline have you set yourself for Hecate?’
‘First, let me say there is a reason for the name the Invisible Hand. We know very little about Hecate, only that he’s probably behind the manufacturing of the drug called brew. But given its widespread production and distribution it’s equally probable that we’re talking about a network or a shared supply chain.’
‘Do I hear you saying you’re not going to prioritise the arrest of Hecate as highly as Duncan did?’
‘What you hear is a chief commissioner refusing to use all his resources on arrests that might make headlines, bring honour to the police and lead to clinking champagne glasses in the town hall, but in reality do little for people’s everyday lives. If we arrest a man by the name of Hecate others will take over his market unless we tackle the town’s real problem.’
‘Which is?’
‘Jobs, Walt. Giving people work. That’s the best and the cheapest initiative against crime. We can fill our prisons, but as long as we have people walking the streets without food...’
‘Now you really sound as if you’re considering standing for election.’
‘I don’t care what it sounds like. I only want this town back on an even keel.’
‘And how will you do that?’
‘We can do that by ensuring this becomes a town where we take account of both investors and workers. Investors mustn’t get away with not paying taxes into the common pot or bribing their way to privileges. But the town can give them the sure knowledge that rules are being followed. And workers should know that their workplace isn’t poisoning them. Our recently deceased hero Banquo lost his wife Vera several years ago. She had breathed in poisonous fumes at the factory where she worked for many years. Vera was a lovely hard-working wife and mother. I knew her personally and loved her. As chief commissioner I promise the town that none of its future workplaces will take the lives of any more Veras. There are other ways of finding employment for people. Better ways. Which will give them a better life.’