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.
But the girl, Amy, had seen me. ‘What are you doing, Brad?’
‘Rescuing you,’ he repeated in a whisper. ‘The others are in the living room.’
Amy blinked and blinked. Got the picture. Got it quick, the way we all had to learn to.
‘I’m not leaving Sam,’ she said loudly. ‘I don’t know what’s going on, but you can either help me or go.’ She looked at me. ‘And who are you?’
‘Do as he says,’ I said, and showed her my gun.
I don’t know if that was the right or wrong thing to do — Brad hadn’t given any instructions about kidnapping — but as she was about to sit up in the bed he grabbed hold of her hair, jerked her head backwards and pressed a cloth against her mouth and nose. She struggled for just a couple of seconds before her body shuddered and then collapsed into his arms. Chloroform. And there was me thinking we’d run out of it.
‘Help me carry her,’ he said as he stuck the cloth into his pocket.
‘But what are you going to do with her?’
‘Marry her and have children,’ said Brad.
Straight away of course I reckoned he’d lost it completely.
‘Come on,’ he said as he took hold of the limp body under the arms. Looked at me, eyebrows raised.
I hadn’t moved. Didn’t know if I was going to be able to either. I looked at the poster pinned above her bed. Same band as the one I liked listening to.
‘That’s an order,’ said Brad. ‘So make up your mind.’
Make up your mind. I knew what that meant, of course. Make up your mind whether you still want to be a member of the only family you’ve got. With the only protection you’re ever going to get. Make up your mind now.
So I did manage to move after all. I bent forward. Took hold of her legs.
I heard the sound of several motorcycles fading into the distance as Heidi staggered into the garage with one of my coats wrapped round her. She found a knife on the workbench and cut me loose. I put my arms around her. She was trembling and shivering as she buried her face in my neck, sobbing as though the tears were choking her.
‘They took her,’ she said as the tears ran warm against my T-shirt. ‘He’s taken Amy.’
‘He?’
‘Brad.’
‘Brad?’
‘He didn’t show his face, but it was Brad Lowe.’
‘Are you certain?’
‘He was the only one wearing a balaclava and he didn’t speak. But he was in charge and he went upstairs to Amy. And when the girl and the boy came into the living room one of them said it’s Brad’s orders.’
‘Said what was Brad’s orders?’
Heidi didn’t reply.
I held Heidi tight. I didn’t need to know. Not yet.
The brown-skinned girl had known that our daughter’s name was Amy and that she was the same age as her. Brad was a gang leader, that added up. For him to have hidden his face so he couldn’t be recognised, that was logical. But the fact that he was still not quite sharp enough to get away with it, that he’d been recognised after all, that was typical of Brad Lowe too.
It was him all right, Brad Lowe. Gone wrong. But lovesick.
So there was a faint hope at least.
V
‘So that’s nine minutes until the helicopter gets here!’ shouts the lieutenant. The halyard is slapping quicker, the wind has got up.
Colin signals to a man who then disappears into a penthouse apartment and re-emerges carrying a champagne cooler with the neck of a green bottle sticking up.
‘We might as well say goodbye in style,’ smiles Colin. ‘The decadents used to say après moi, le déluge, but in our case — since the deluge is already upon us — vintage champagne should be popped and drunk by those with the palates — and the throats — to appreciate it. Before their throats get cut.’
‘Well,’ I say as I accept a glass from the man holding the cooler, ‘I’m probably a little more optimistic than that, Colin.’
‘You always have been, Will. After all that’s happened I can only admire the fact that your faith in the human race remains intact. I wish I had even a fraction of your trust. And your heart. At least you’ve got that to keep you warm. But all I have is this cold, rational brain. It’s like living alone in an enormous stone castle in the dead of winter.’
‘Like your prison on Rat Island.’
‘Yes,’ says Colin. ‘And by the way, I’ve heard a new explanation of why there are so many rats there. In the 1800s before they built the prison, there was an isolation hospital there for people with typhoid fever. They knew that they were going to die, and no one in the city wanted anything to do with a corpse with typhoid fever, not even relatives. And the rats knew it too. After dark they sat would sit squeaking and hissing and chattering and waiting for the fresh corpses to be tossed out of the hospital’s back door. If someone died on that island the body would be consumed before sunrise. It was a satisfactory arrangement for all concerned.’
‘Do you believe that story? Or do you still think they fled there, the same way you did?’
Colin nods. ‘Typhoid from humans can’t infect rats but even rats can be infected by our fear. And frightened rats are aggressive, so we’re afraid of them and slaughter them indiscriminately. It’s not the virus that’s going to do for us, Will, but our fear of each other.’
I think of fear. The fear on the night Chaos came to our home. The fear I tried in vain to communicate on the night Heidi and I reported the case, and the following day, when we spoke to detectives at the police station.
The two investigators seated behind the desk no longer looked in my eyes nor in Heidi’s but instead down at the notebooks in front of them. I assumed the reason was the horrendous story we had just told them: that our daughter had been kidnapped and my wife raped while I sat tied up in the garage. Not until later did I realise it was because we had just told them we were convinced the gang leader was Brad Lowe, son of the IT entrepreneur Colin Lowe.
‘We’ll look into it,’ said the female investigator who had introduced herself as Chief Inspector Gardell. ‘But don’t hold your breath.’
‘Don’t hold your breath? How the hell do you expect us to breathe?’ I wasn’t aware I was shouting until I felt Heidi’s hand on my arm.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘But our daughter is out there and we’re sitting here and... and...’
‘We understand,’ said Gardell. ‘I expressed myself badly. What I was trying to say was that it might take time. In the current situation the police simply don’t have the resources to investigate all crimes of violence.’
‘I realise you must have your priorities,’ said Heidi, ‘but this is a recent kidnapping, involving a young person, with a perpetrator who we’ve more or less handed to you on a plate. If anything should have priority...’
‘We promise to do the best we can,’ said Gardell, exchanging looks with her colleague. ‘We’re on our way out to the scene of a murder, but you’ll be hearing from us.’
They stood up, and so did I.
‘Aren’t you going to take fingerprints?’ I said. ‘DNA, talk to the neighbours...’
‘As I say...’ said Gardell.