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.
Why all these tears? Is it because what is inexorable, the certainty that there is no way back from here, always touches something deep in us? Whether it be farewells, or deaths, or just those ocean currents of time, happenings and life itself which separate us and pull us all apart from each other?
I hold out a hand to Colin.
‘Farewell,’ I say.
‘Thank you.’ Colin takes my hand and draws me close to him. ‘Thank you for letting my son go.’
‘Will!’ shouts Heidi. She’s standing by the helicopter door holding Sam by the hand. ‘Darling, come on.’
‘And thank you for letting me take over the villa,’ says Colin.
‘I’m the one who should be thanking you — for the tickets,’ I say. ‘It’s just a pity there aren’t enough for us all.’
‘It’s right that we should stay behind,’ says Colin. ‘I’m sure Brad will come back to us when he’s had time to sort himself out. I think the way you treated him has given him a lot to think about, Will. You’ve given all of us a lot to think about.’
‘Will, darling, they say they can’t wait any longer!’
‘I’m coming!’ I shout back as I look into the eyes of my childhood friend. When choice is free, and yet inexorable. That false sense of freedom, contra to what has already been decided. The choice the brain would always make, based on the sum of all the information and every inclination available at the moment when the time for action comes. The absolute inevitability of the fact that I will never see Colin again, hear his laughter, smell his smell, feel the warmth of his handshake or his embrace. Of course I might be wrong, I can hope I’m wrong. But in the depths of my soul I’m afraid I neither hope nor believe I will see him again. But my eyes are as full of tears as his.
As the helicopter rises from the roof and wheels round I look down at the three people standing there waving, then I turn to Sam who tugs at my arm from his seat between Heidi and me.
‘Where are we going, Dad?’
I point. ‘There.’
‘What’s there?’
‘West.’
‘What’s west?’
‘The future.’
‘What’s future?’
‘It’s what’s coming soon. Look...’ I hold my hand in the air above him, flutter it down like a butterfly and tickle the pit of his throat. ‘It’s here now!’ I shouted as he wriggles about, laughing away. ‘And now it’s over!’ I say and stop tickling him. Hold my hand over him again. ‘But there’s more to come,’ I say, and already he’s giggling in terrified anticipation. As I’m tickling him my eyes meet Heidi’s. They look dulled, but she’s smiling. Again I raise my hand.
‘And that was the end of that,’ I say without taking my gaze from hers. ‘But there’s more to come...’
XVII
I’d found a shady place out of the baking hot sun while I waited for Will Adams to release Brad Lowe. Finally I heard their voices on the other side of the wall. Relaxed, good-humoured. Christ, they sounded like two old chums.
‘So you’re the one who’s come to fetch me,’ said Brad as the gates to the villa closed behind him. ‘I thought he meant my father.’
For a few moments he just stood there looking at me and my bike.
‘You ran out on us that night,’ he said.
‘It was all over by then,’ I said. ‘Getting out of there was the only option.’
Brad thought it over. Nodded. ‘Sure. I would probably have done the same. So what happens now?’
‘That’s what we’re wondering.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re the leader of Chaos. We’re wondering what plans you’ve got for us.’
Brad stared at me in surprise.
I nodded at the bike. ‘I’ll ride pillion because I’m thinking you’ll want to drive?’
Brad gave a big grin. He put his arm around my shoulder. ‘I knew I could trust you, Yvonne. You know, if you hadn’t been a carpet muncher I swear I would have had you for my girl. Where are we going?’
‘To the funfair,’ I said.
The reception had been a bit mixed when I told the gang I was off to fetch Brad and that from now on he was going to be leader. They were happy enough with me, they said, and couldn’t quite understand why I would voluntarily give up tall privileges such as the best bike and first choice of weapons, food, room and girls.
But they did as I told them, painted WELCOME BACK, BRAD on a banner that was hanging above the gate as he and I rode into the abandoned little funfair the gang had taken over the day before. We had two generators with us, eight kilos of meat and ten litres of spirits.
To be honest the place was a bit creepy in the dark, but after dinner we lit the whole thing up in all its glorious bright colours and even got some tinny music going on the roundabout and the dodgems, shooting and loud cheers from the booth where the boys popped off airguns at little balloons, and even a scratchy voice on tape muttering scary stuff from what was left of a burned-out House of Horrors. Brad and I climbed up on horses next to each other on the roundabout. Creaking and out of sync they rose and fell as we shuffled round at an easy pace. Above the sounds of the barrel organs I asked him again: what plans did he have for us?
Eyes rolling, his voice slurred by alcohol, he said: ‘We’re going to kill that fucking Will Adams and the rest of his shitty crowd.’
‘Why?’
‘Why? Because he locked me up, that’s why!’
‘Not because he killed Herbert?’
Brad grunted and lifted the whisky bottle to his lips. ‘That too. But nobody locks Brad Lowe up. Nobody talks to him like he was a snot-nosed kid. You don’t act like you think you’re a better person, that you’re...’ He made a face and gesticulated, but it wasn’t easy to work out what he was trying to say.
‘Holy?’ I suggested.
‘Yes. Will Adams talks like a priest, but he’s just a fucking...’ He waved the bottle about as though he was trying to catch the word in it.
‘Hypocrite?’
‘Yes!’ He had to grab hold of the horse to save himself from falling off it. ‘Him and those buddies of his, they didn’t just kill, they slaughtered those men Dad sent to rescue me.’
‘They defended themselves, you mean?’
Brad scowled at me and I bit my tongue.
‘How are you going to kill him?’ I asked. ‘I hear he’s turned that place into a fortress.’
‘Yeah, but Brad Lowe has the answer—’ he tapped the mouth of the bottle against his temple — ‘in here.’
‘And that is?’
‘How many bazookas did Ragnar get from my father?’
‘Fifty.’
‘One.’ Brad gave a loud laugh and tossed the empty bottle away; I heard it smash somewhere out there in the dark. ‘One single one is all we need. We fire up through a sewage pipe that goes round into his ammunition dump in the basement. And — kaboom! — the whole house...’ He balanced on the horse as he demonstrated with his hands, arms and puffed-out cheeks.
I nodded. ‘How straight is that sewage pipe? If it’s not straight the grenade will just blow up on the way in.’