Ю Несбё - The Jealousy Man and Other Stories

I swallowed.

Greco raised a slender, shaven eyebrow. ‘Something wrong?’

‘Listen—’ I began.

‘Can’t do it, Lukas? Performance anxiety? Do you get that too when she needs fucking?’

I didn’t answer.

‘OK, that wasn’t really fair,’ said Greco. ‘See, that psychologist I was telling you about, he suggested hypnosis as a cure for depression, but when we tried it, it turned out I’m not a good subject. He said it was because of my so-called personality disorders. I’m immune to it. I mean, there must be some advantages to being insane.’

Laughter. The T and the long S again, like the hiss of a punctured bicycle tyre. Then he was gone from the screen. The phone appeared to be placed on a shelf or suchlike, and I saw something that looked like a hallway and an oak door with an entryphone. There was a jarring, ringing sound. Greco appeared on the screen again, his back to me, his white suit gleaming. He seemed to be holding something up in his hand so that I couldn’t see. He picked up the entryphone with his free hand.

‘Yes?’ Pause. Then, in a surprised voice: ‘No, is that you, darling? How lovely, it’s been such a long time. Well, well. So at least you still remember where you used to live.’

He pressed the button on the entryphone. I heard a distant buzz and then the sound of a door opening. I was clutching my own phone so hard I thought I might crush it. How could Judith, who was so intelligent, who knew Greco so well, fail to see that he had smoked her out from her hiding place by using me? The answer came back as quick as the question. Of course she knew. And still she’d come. Because there was no alternative — this was her only chance to save me.

I wept. No tears came, but my whole body was sobbing. I wished I’d lied to her. Told her I loved her. Given her that at least. Because she was going to die. And I was going to watch.

Greco turned his piggy face in triumph towards me. And now I was able to see what he was holding in his hand. A karambit. Curved handle and a short blade bent like a tooth. A knife with which to slash, chop or stab. And which, once it’s in, does not let go.

I wanted to break the connection but couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Greco turned towards the door and opened it, holding the knife in the hand behind his back so only I could see it. And then she came in. Face pale, her cheeks a feverish pink. She embraced him, and Greco let her do it without taking his hand from behind his back. Now I could see them both in profile.

‘Run!’ I shouted into the phone. ‘Judith, he’s going to kill you!’

No response. Greco had probably put his phone on mute.

‘How nice,’ said Greco in a voice that sent a short, hard echo round the hallway. ‘To what do I owe this visit?’

‘I regret it,’ said Judith, out of breath.

‘Regret?’

‘Regret leaving. I’ve thought about it for a long time. Will you have me back?’

‘Wow,’ he said. ‘Even before you’ve taken off your coat?’

‘Will you?’

Greco bobbed up and down on his heels.

‘I—’ he said, and sucked on his upper lip — ‘will take Judith Szabó back.’

She breathed quickly and put a hand against his chest. ‘Oh, I’m so happy now. Because I want you, Greco. I know that now. It’s just that it’s taken me some time. And I’m sorry about that. I hope you can forgive me.’

‘I forgive you.’

‘Well. Here I am.’ She took a step towards him, her arms wide. Greco stepped back. She stopped and looked at him in confusion.

‘Show me your tongue,’ he said quietly.

For an instant Judith looked as though someone had just slapped her. But she recovered quickly and smiled.

‘But, Greco, what—’

‘Your tongue!’

It looked as though she had to concentrate, as though this involved a highly complicated locomotor operation. She half opened her mouth, and then out came her pale red tongue.

Greco smiled. He looked almost mournfully at the exposed tongue. ‘You know very well I would have taken her back, Judith. Her. The one you were. Before you turned into someone else and betrayed me.’

The tongue disappeared.

‘Greco, darling...’ She reached out to him, and he took another step back.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked. ‘Are you afraid of me? Your people searched me at the door.’

‘I’m not afraid. But if there was anyone I was afraid of, it would be you. All I can do is admire your courage. But then, you have always defended the one you love. That’s why I was certain you would come. That’s your method, after all: go directly to the root.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Come on, Judith. You’re a better actress than that.’

‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Greco.’

But I did. That was her mantra as a fixer. Go directly to the root. When she was contacted with a commission, something which, for obvious reasons, almost always happened via a middleman, she always made it her business to find out who the real customer was and pay a visit to that person. It was always a risky business. She might lose the commission, or expose herself to danger, but she insisted on going directly to the root in order to fix a price and agree on the conditions. She always got a better price, she maintained, because she could do without all the middlemen taking their cut, and there were no misunderstandings about what was included in the service and what was not. And I supported her tactic of going directly to the root method because I wanted to know the reason for the commission, what the intended result of it was. My road to heaven was paved with the evil intentions of others, and I just wanted to make sure that the greater evil didn’t win out.

‘Maybe, maybe I want this, Judith Szabó. I like your tongue. You’ve come to negotiate. So make a start. What are you offering to spare his life, your psychologist?’

She shook her head. ‘He’s been out of my life a long time, Greco. But yes, of course, I expect you not to harm him.’

Greco put his head back and laughed his T and S laugh until his piggy eyes disappeared behind his round cheeks. ‘Come on, Judith, a negotiator has to lie better than that. You know what I wish?’

I shuddered as he reached out a hand to stroke her cheek.

‘I wish you’d have loved me enough to do what you’re doing for him.’

Judith stared at him, her mouth open. One hand continued towards her cheek. The other tightened its grip on the handle of the knife behind his back. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes, the way her body seemed to collapse inside; she was already moving her hands up to protect herself. She knew pretty well what was about to happen. That this had always been the likely outcome. And that now it was too late for regrets.

‘Hello...’ he said.

‘No!’ she shouted.

‘No!’ I shouted.

‘...I’m Greco,’ he said.

He swung the knife in a tight arc so swiftly it seemed to leave a trail of silver through the air.

Judith stared at him and at the knife. The blade was clean. But her throat had opened. Then came the blood. It splashed out, and she raised her hands as though to prevent it falling onto her coat, her present. But as she pressed her hands to her neck the pressure increased and blood sprayed from between her fingers in thin jets. Greco backed away but not quickly enough; blood splashed on the sleeve of his white suit jacket. Judith’s legs gave way and she fell to her knees. Already her eyes were glazed; oxygen was no longer reaching the brain. The hands fell lifelessly from the neck, already the volume of blood had diminished. For a second or two her body balanced on the knees, and then she collapsed forwards, her forehead hitting the stone floor with a soft thud.