The Jealousy Man and Other Stories
- Автор: Несбё Ю
- Год: 2021
- Язык: английский
- Год: Alfred A. Knopf
- ISBN: 978-0-593-32100-3
- Переводчик: Robert Ferguson
- Жанр: Криминальные детективы
Электронная книга - «The Jealousy Man and Other Stories». Краткое содержание книги:
A detective with a nose for jealousy is on the trail of a man suspected of murdering his twin; a bereaved father must decide whether vengeance has a place in the new world order after a pandemic brings about the collapse of society; a garbage man fresh off a bender tries to piece together what happened the night before; a hired assassin matches wits against his greatest adversary in a dangerous game for survival; and an instantly electric connection between passengers on a flight to London may spell romance, or something more sinister.
With Nesbø’s characteristic gift for outstanding atmosphere and gut-wrenching revelations, The Jealousy Man confirms that he is at the peak of his abilities.
And right there and then, I think, was where it started. When everything I had always thought would be me began to fall apart.
Me and Dumbo stood in the doorway and looked at the dining table. It was made of thick, rough brown planking. Sort of rustic style but you can bet it cost a fortune. Like the one Maria had shown me in some Country Living kind of magazine and said she wanted a table like that herself. But there was no way I could get that thing on the bike with me. My gaze moved on to the woman. She was lying tied up on the table. They must have found the rope somewhere and tied it round the tabletop and across her neck, chest and stomach. Her legs were tied to the legs of the table and her nightshirt pulled up above her stomach and down below her breasts.
In front of her I saw the back of a red leather jacket with the embroidered motif of a gaping dragon rearing up out of the sea. Ragnar’s jacket. He turned to us.
‘There you are.’
Below the smooth brown mane of hair that he would lose before he was thirty Ragnar had these predator’s eyes that glowed with something evil and dangerous, even when he smiled. Especially when he smiled. Maybe it wasn’t just by chance he referred to the city as ‘the savannah’ and kept a long metal chain with a hook attached to his bike that he used when he was busy ‘separating out the weakest animal in the herd’ as he liked to call it.
‘Really?’ I said.
‘Really,’ he said, and his smile widened. ‘Objections?’
I saw that he saw how I swallowed them down. That’s the price you pay for being in a gang. There are rules you must follow. Among other things. But what came next wasn’t in the rule book.
‘The hour has come, Dumbo,’ said Ragnar. ‘It’s your turn.’
‘Eh?’
‘Come on. It’s nothing to be afraid of.’
Dumbo looked up at me, wide-eyed.
‘He doesn’t have to,’ I said, and I could hear the tightness in my voice.
‘Yes, he does.’ Ragnar gave me that hostile, challenging look of his, the one that said he should have been Brad’s second-in-command, not me. He waited for me to protest so that he could play his ace, but I already knew what it was.
‘Brad’s orders,’ he finally added.
‘And where is Brad?’ I asked, looking round. Everyone, including Dumbo, was standing with their eyes riveted on the woman on the table. For the first time now I saw the little boy with the large round eyes in an armchair facing the table. He couldn’t have been more than three or four years old and he sat there looking at his mother.
‘Brad’s upstairs,’ said Ragnar, and turned to Dumbo. ‘You ready, Shorty?’
One of the O’Leary twins sneaked up behind Dumbo and jerked his trousers down. Everyone laughed. Dumbo too, but then he always laughs when the others do so that no one will suspect he hasn’t got the joke.
‘Hey, hey,’ said Ragnar. ‘Hey, look at that, the dwarf really is ready!’
More laughter, Dumbo’s louder than anyone’s.
‘Tell Yvonne you’re ready, Dumbo!’ Ragnar said, looking at me.
‘I’m ready!’ Dumbo laughed, thrilled to be the centre of attention, his glassy gaze fixed on the woman on the table.
‘Jesus, Dumbo,’ I said. ‘Don’t—’
‘Insubordination, Yvonne?’ Ragnar taunted, laughter in his voice. ‘Is this incitement to insubordination we hear?’
‘I’m ready!’ shouted Dumbo. He liked to repeat sentences he thought he’d got the hang of. And now the others hoisted him onto a chair, turned the music up loud and cheered him on.
I felt my blood boil. But that’s when you lose a boxing match, when you let the temperature of your blood decide. So I just said it, quietly, but loudly enough for him to hear me very clearly:
‘You will fucking well pay for this, Ragnar.’
There was a scraping of chair legs. The woman was lying with her head turned and looking at the little boy. Tears ran down her face and she was whispering something. And I couldn’t help myself, I went closer so I could hear. In spite of the effort she was making to control it her voice was trembling:
‘Everything will be fine, Sam. Everything will be fine. Close your eyes now. Think of something nice. Something you’d like us to do tomorrow.’
I stepped forward, took hold of Sam under the arms and lifted him up.
‘Let go of him!’ the woman shrieked. ‘Let go of my son!’ I caught her eye.
‘He doesn’t need to see this,’ I said.
Then I hoisted the boy up onto my shoulders, keeping a tight hold of him because he was struggling and squealing like a stuck pig. I headed for the kitchen door but then Ragnar appeared in front of me and blocked the way. Our eyes met. I don’t know what he saw in mine but after a couple of seconds he stepped aside.
I heard the mother scream ‘No!’ as I ducked down through the doorway, walked through the kitchen and out through another door into a corridor. I kept on walking until I found a bathroom. I put the little boy down on the floor and told him his mother would come and fetch him if he kept completely quiet and put his hands over his ears. Then I took the key from the door and locked it from the outside.
I climbed a staircase, passed a couple of open doors and then one that was closed. I opened it carefully.
Light from the corridor entered the room. Brad was sitting beside a bed in which a blonde girl of about my own age lay sleeping. She was still wearing a pair of headphones. I recognised the type, with noise-cancelling so good you could even sleep through the sounds of hand grenades exploding in the streets outside.
Or of your own family being tortured a few metres away.
Brad looked as though he’d been sitting there and looking at her for quite a while. And the girl was nice-looking, in a sort of old-fashioned romantic way, not exactly my type. But obviously Brad’s — I’d never seen him like that before, soft and dreamy-eyed, with a small smile on his lips. It struck me that it was the first time I’d ever seen him happy.
The girl in the bed turned away from the light without waking.
‘We’ve got to get out of here,’ I whispered. ‘We heard the screams even out on the garage — the neighbours might have called the police.’
‘We’ve got time,’ said Brad. ‘And she’s coming with us.’
‘Eh?’
‘She’s mine.’
‘Are you out of your fucking mind?’
I don’t know if it was because I spoke so loudly, but suddenly the girl in the bed opened her eyes. Brad took the headphones off her head.
‘Hi, Amy,’ he whispered in a velvety smooth and completely unfamiliar voice.
‘Brad?’ the girl said, her eyes wide open as she sort of scooted up the bed and away from him.
‘Shh,’ he said. ‘I’ve come to save you. There’s a gang down on the floor below us, they’ve got your parents and Sam. Stuff a few clothes into a bag and come with me, I’ve got a ladder outside the window.’