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.
I’m not sure I understood everything he said, but I think I got his point.
In the first place the rules of the road are for everyone who drives, and when there’s been a crash it’s not always best to leave it to the two hotheads involved to sort it out themselves.
‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘But how about when you realise the judge has been bought by the other side and that might is right after all? Should you just roll over and let it happen? Or should you stand up and fight?’
Will, as he insisted I call him, looked at me as he scratched his chin.
‘My wife and son are coming in,’ he said. ‘I think maybe it’s best if you don’t meet. Come with me.’
I followed him down into the basement. Saw he’d made quite a few changes. He took me into a room that looked like a cross between the bridge of a ship and the control room in a recording studio.
‘What do you need?’ he asked. ‘To get what you want.’
‘A weapon,’ I said.
‘A weapon?’
‘Ragnar stole my Remington rifle. But for this I’m going to need something heavy.’
Will nodded. He left the room and returned with a machine gun. He demonstrated for me how it worked. It could be used to mow down a small squad of men but was light enough for me to hold. He placed four hand grenades on the table in front of me.
‘Enough?’
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Why are you helping me? I was one of those who attacked your family.’
He looked directly at me. ‘In the first place I’m going to ask you to do something for me in return. In the second place, I know you weren’t a part of what happened when my wife... That you took Sam out of the room before...’ His voice became thick and hoarse and he blinked twice. We could hear the two of them on the floor above us. He cleared his throat.
‘And in the third place, because you remind me of Amy.’
There were tears and tenderness in his eyes and for a moment I thought he was going to stroke my hair.
‘Same fighting spirit,’ he said. ‘Same sense of justice. When my generation is dead and gone and it’s the turn of others to run the world I hope that it’s people like you who run it, Yvonne. Not people like Brad and Ragnar.’
I nodded slowly. I hadn’t done much to stop the rape, but it probably wouldn’t do any harm if he thought better of me than I deserved. ‘I’ll do the best I can, Mr Adams. What is this thing that you want me to do in return?’
Slowly and in some detail, a look of pain and despair on his face, he told me. I realised this had been a very hard decision for him to take, and that he was still torn by doubt over it. And this time it was me who wanted to stroke his hair.
‘OK,’ I said.
He looked almost surprised. ‘Yes?’
‘Yes. I’m in.’
He checked that his wife and little Sam weren’t nearby, then he followed me out to the bike.
‘You don’t think this is a gruesome plan?’ I asked.
‘Of course it’s gruesome,’ said Yvonne as she packed the stripped-down machine gun into the side pannier of the bike. ‘Leaving the gruesome to the gruesome.’
She straddled the bike. ‘I’ve no idea if your plan’s going to work, Will. But if it does then it’s probably the closest you’re going to get to justice without one of those courts of yours.’
‘It’ll be your job to see that those are re-established once everything has totally collapsed and it all has to be built up again from scratch,’ I said.
She rolled her eyes, put on the helmet with the image of Lady Justice executed, and the bike started up with a bestial roar.
I stood watching her until she disappeared from sight around a corner.
I didn’t see a single coyote as I rode down through the valley. I’ve heard that they can smell danger. They’re smart creatures.
XV
The day after I was up at the Adams villa I mounted the light machine gun on the front of my bike so that I could ride and shoot at the same time. Maria watched me wide-eyed and asked if I was going to war.
‘Yes,’ I said.
The slaughterhouse was in an industrial area south of Downtown, on a field surrounded by nodding oil pumps that looked like enormous ants raising and lowering their upper bodies over their front legs. It seemed as though the old pumps — again like ants — just kept on doing what they do regardless of whether the human race was going to hell or not.
The afternoon sun was low in the sky behind me as I turned into the forecourt in front of the slaughterhouse. The timing was carefully chosen. Dumbo had told me they would gather to eat in the main part of the slaughterhouse before heading out to raid after dark. And I needed them all to be together — that was going to be my only chance.
I’d made a reconnaissance trip earlier in the day and established that they didn’t keep watch and that the big sliding door at one end of the hall was always left open, probably because they had no electricity to run the air conditioning. They must have thought that was OK; they probably didn’t feel much threat out here.
I rode into the main hall. It was rectangular and big as two football pitches. Light fell from the windows in the ceiling high above. There were rails and wires with meat hooks up there too, but of course, no meat left hanging from them; anything like that had been consumed long ago. The smooth concrete floor inclined gradually towards the sluices, presumably so the blood would run away before it dried.
The bikes were parked at the far end of the hall and the gang was sitting in the middle at a long table, like in that painting of Jesus and the disciples. Only Jesus wasn’t with them. It had taken me two seconds to count to eleven. Ragnar wasn’t here.
Two of them jumped to their feet and ran towards their bikes. They were new. They didn’t know who I was.
I opened fire, aiming just ahead of them so they could see the bursting showers of plaster and know they would never have time to reach the weapons on their bikes. They threw themselves to the floor.
‘Stay down!’ I yelled.
The walls echoed. They stayed down.
Then I rode slowly forward and stopped between two dangling meat hooks five or six metres from the table, so I was still covering everyone with the machine gun.
‘What do you want?’ asked one of the O’Leary twins — you can never be sure which is which until they’re on their bikes.