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.
‘An artery in her thigh was punctured,’ said Larsen. ‘She bled to death in the street while those bandits picked up the hams and the tins.’
The only sounds that could be heard were Larsen’s hoarse breathing and swallowing.
‘And they had...?’ said a cautious voice.
‘Yes,’ said Larsen, who had regained control of his voice. ‘They were wearing helmets with dead Justitia.’
The men in the room nodded.
One of them coughed.
‘Tell me, that machine gun... does it work?’
Two days later we were ready.
We’d had shooting practice at a rifle range under the direction of Pete Downing, a former Marine who had been involved in house-to-house fighting in Basra in Iraq. Him, me and Chung, a construction engineer, had gone over the drawings of the place Chung had obtained through a contact in the Planning and Building Services Department. Downing had drafted a plan of attack that he went through with us in a room we had rented in the basement of the rifle range. He pointed out that there could be several kidnap victims in the house, playing down in this way the fact that the focus of the action was primarily on Amy and me. The funny thing was that once he was done he turned and spoke to me.
‘Well, Will Adams, think that sounds OK?’
I nodded.
‘Thank you,’ said Downing as he rolled up the large sheets of paper he had drawn on.
I stood up. ‘Then we meet here at midnight,’ I said. ‘Remember, dark clothing.’
The men stood up and filed out. Several of them nodded as they passed me, from which I realised that they regarded me as the leader of the operation. Was that just because I had taken the initiative? Or was something more involved? Was it because of the way I had described not just the practical side of our intended operation but also its moral and socially responsible dimensions? Had my simple remarks about justice not being something you get but something you take given them a thirst for battle they hadn’t been able to feel when they were alone, but that they realised they had been missing now that they had been given a morally acceptable motivation? Maybe. Because maybe they had noticed that I meant every word of what I was saying. That it is everyone’s responsibility to cut the head of the Leviathan, the sea monster, before it grows so big it devours us all.
But I don’t think that was on anyone’s mind as our column of three cars crawled up the narrow, twisting road heading towards the villa on the hill. I sat squashed between two others in the back seat and thought only of what I was to do, my own practical role in the planned operation. And that I didn’t want to die. The smell I recognised through the sweat from the others in the car was probably the same as I was giving off myself. Fear.
VII
I awaken to the sounds of shots, people shouting, running footsteps along the corridor.
My first thought was that it was just another party that had got out of hand, that someone had started a fight, probably with Ragnar.
I heard someone try the door of my room. It was locked, the way it always is. It’s not from the fear that someone will come in and rape me. In the first place I know I could take them, and in the second place Brad would chop their head off, and in the third place, you become sort of demagnetised as a sex object for guys when they realise you’re into the same thing as they are: girls. But I also know that the way the drug-taking has, to put it mildly, escalated these days it’s just a question of time before someone tries it. And that will mean so much trouble for them that there’s no reason not to lock the door. But from my point of view they’re the ones who are locked in, not me.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and grabbed the Kalashnikov lying underneath it. Because the voices out in the corridor didn’t belong to any of the boys, and now I heard two loud bangs from shock grenades. Oscar was on watch tonight; what the hell was going on? Had he fallen asleep on the job?
No one trying the doorknob any more — have they moved on? Just then I heard the dull thud of a shot from the other side of the door and the whiplash as the bullet passed my head and hit the wall.
I raised the gun, pushed the security catch into automatic and fired. Even in the half-dark I could see how the salvo perforated the door and the white splinters of wood flaring. Outside, someone fell heavily and began to scream. I pulled on my shoes, trousers and jacket and crossed to the window. Down on the lawn Oscar was lying splayed out on his back in an X-shape, the Kalashnikov beside him, as though he was sunbathing in the moonlight. I made a quick calculation. I didn’t know how many of them there were, but they’d taken out Oscar before he had a chance to raise the alarm, and they had shock grenades. So not just a bunch of amateurs. And who were we? A gang of doped-up kids who knew how to attack but hadn’t had any practice in how to defend. If I didn’t take a decision quickly it was going to be taken for me.
I had the bike key in my pocket.
Shit, I even had a place to go: Maria had asked me to move in with her on a permanent basis. And hadn’t I even considered it, independently of this? OK, Chaos had saved me once, but wasn’t it true that we had all saved each other? That it was the pack, the twelve of us together, that protected us? And not loyalty, or some code of honour. Fuck that. Had anyone here ever sacrificed anything for me? No way.
I got the window open and climbed out, hung from the ledge by my arms and then let go. The roses in the bed below were dead and gone long ago, but not the bramble bushes that had replaced them, big and ugly. It was like rolling around in barbed wire.
I took a deep breath, pulled the pin on the shock grenade and nodded to Downing. He nodded back, turned the handle on the door I had pointed out on the plans as the master bedroom, and pushed it slightly open.
I did as he had shown me, bent low and rolled the grenade along the parquet flooring so that it made as little sound as possible. Downing closed the door again and counted to four.
Even through the closed door the sound was deafening and a flash of light blitzed out through the keyhole.
Downing kicked the door open and we went in, positioning ourselves on each side of the doorway as he had shown us.
My pulse was racing as the beam of my torch searched the room for Amy. It flashed across the window, and on the lawn outside I saw a figure running towards a parked motorcycle. I moved the beam on until it caught something that at first I thought was a sculpture. A boy with pale white skin sat bolt upright in bed, staring as though paralysed. That’s the effect the shock grenade has, Downing had explained.
It was Brad.
Downing yelled at him to put his hands up, but Brad was probably still deaf from the bang and he just stared at us in bewilderment. Downing hit him across the face with the butt of his gun, and a slimy blob of blood and spittle flew through the cone of light.
I pushed Brad backwards onto the bed and sat on top of him. He didn’t struggle.
‘It’s me,’ I said. ‘Will. Where is Amy?’
He blinked up at me.
I repeated the question, at the same time pressing the barrel of the pistol I had chosen against his forehead.
‘We know it was you,’ I said. ‘Your sentry’s dead. You want to be next, Brad?’