Ю Несбё - The Jealousy Man and Other Stories

‘Did you know they still pay for dwarf sex down by the molo?’

I didn’t answer.

‘Remember, I let you live, Yvonne Big Mouth,’ he said. Then he turned and started walking towards the corner where they must have left their bikes in order to sneak up on us. ‘Remember the bags!’ he called over his shoulder.

‘OK!’ shouted the twin who had the gun pointed at me. ‘Shall we take the guns too?’

‘Jesus, what do you think?’

Even though the O’Learys took our weapons they backed away after Ragnar, the Kalashnikovs still pointing at Dumbo and me.

I heard Ragnar’s bike start; it had a special hoarse kind of sound. Then they rounded the corner. It took me a couple of seconds to realise what was happening, and before I could get up and yell to Dumbo to get out of the way I saw Ragnar swinging his hook. It made a sort of mushy sound as it caught in the back of Dumbo’s shoulder, and I saw the point come out again on the other side, below his collarbone. The breath left Dumbo in a single, long-drawn-out gasp as he was dragged away from the window of the car he was trying to cling on to. He bounced twice, three times on the asphalt before he disappeared howling around the corner and was gone from my sight. I turned, ready to jump on my bike and follow them, and then the twins were roaring towards me and I heard the bullets strafing my machine.

And when they were gone too, and the fumes vanished, there I was, kneeling by the wheels of what had been my holy and damned machine.

‘You need a lift?’ asked the guy who was still there in his car.

I closed my eyes. I felt like crying. This isn’t the town and this isn’t the time for crying. It sure isn’t. But I cried anyway.

It was late in the evening, and I was on my way home after yet another fruitless day’s searching for members of Chaos. I needed an eyewitness, someone who could point the finger directly at Brad Lowe.

As I drove past the public prosecutor’s building I saw lights on in a couple of the offices and on impulse parked in the almost deserted car park and rang the bell. Asked the voice that answered to call Adele Matheson’s office. A few moments later she was on the speaker.

‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you,’ she said. ‘I’m on my way home, can you wait five minutes?’

Four minutes later she came out the door. The outfit she was wearing, even the blouse, was the same as when we met the last time. She immediately began walking towards the car park. Her shoes were worn down on the inside, and that made her even more knock-kneed.

‘Can you help me find Brad Lowe?’ she said.

‘But I told you—’

‘You told me nothing I don’t want to know, and I suggest we carry on like that. Can you guarantee that he will appear in a court case, yes or no?’

‘Yes,’ I said, surprised.

‘Good. His next of kin have been informed of the charge and now you have been. It means that you and those who helped you when you found Amy must be willing to appear as witnesses.’

‘Are you saying that...?’

We stopped by a red Ferrari. I found it hard to believe the low, sexy sports car could belong to her until she unlocked it.

‘I’m making no promises,’ she said. ‘All I’m saying is that after due consideration the public prosecutor’s office has come to the conclusion that we have enough evidence to charge Brad Lowe with murder.’

The attack came just before dawn.

They were well prepared, obviously familiar with the layout of the property, and counting on being met by force.

They were wearing camouflage and came gliding over the wall like porpoises across the surface of the water.

‘These boys are pros,’ said Downing as he leaned back in his chair and studied the monitors.

Less than two minutes had passed since the silent alarms on the outside of the wall had been triggered. Downing, who had been on watch, had roused us and we were now gathered down in the basement. The women and children were locked in the secure room directly opposite the cell where we were keeping Brad, while Downing, Chung, Larsen and I kept watch from the control room at the other end of the basement. On the monitors our camouflaged cameras — ordinary game cameras with night vision — showed the attackers gathering on the inside of the wall and then spreading out to approach the house from different sides.

‘About thirty men,’ said Downing. ‘Various types of weapons but light, automatic rifles. I don’t see any hand grenades or flamethrowers, so this looks like a surgical attack — the only ones to die will be those who are meant to die.’

All except Brad, I thought, but kept my mouth shut.

‘Night vision, same old type as mine. These are experienced veterans, boys. The worst type of opponent.’

‘There are so many of them,’ said Larsen. His voice was trembling. ‘Shouldn’t we detonate the mines now?’

‘That is scenario two,’ said Downing as he drummed with his fingers on the side of the keyboard. ‘What does that mean, Larsen?’

Larsen gulped. ‘That we don’t activate the mines and booby traps until they start the attack,’ he whispered.

‘Precisely. Chung?’

‘Yes?’ said Chung, who had just come in after making sure all the women and children were safely locked inside the secure room.

‘When the mines and the booby traps start going off, switch on the current to the wall. I don’t want any of them escaping.’

‘OK.’

‘Adams, you pilot the drone and give us overhead views.’

‘Copy,’ I said, using the military jargon we had just adopted.

‘And, Larsen, you’re ready with the machine guns, right?

‘Yep,’ he said, adjusting his position in the chair and taking hold of the joystick on the remote control.

All of us were trying to sound a bit tougher than we actually felt. At the same time I think we also felt a sort of excitement that the thing we had been preparing and steeling ourselves for was finally happening.

‘Right then, scenario two. When they start to move I’m going to count down to three and on zero we activate. Questions?’

Silence.

‘Ready?’

Yes, in three voices.

A lot of things aren’t the way they seem in films.

This wasn’t one of them.

The next few seconds — because it lasted only a few seconds when we saw the recordings afterwards — were as unreal as anything I’ve seen on the big screen.

When they attacked and we switched on the floodlights, when the mines started to explode and the body parts were flying through the air, when the booby-trapped shotguns cut down one attacker after another, when several of them desperately tried to retreat and climb back over the wall that was now live, and I saw through the drone camera how the jerking bodies fell to the ground, how the bullets from Larsen’s machine guns meant that they carried on jerking, it was really quite hard to believe it was all actually happening out there.

Then the explosions and the gunfire stopped and suddenly everything was very quiet.

Outside, some of the wounded began screaming for help. Larsen — who was sitting in a chair next to Downing and operating the machine guns through a joystick, the way you would in a computer game — had stopped shooting. Now he looked at the monitors, including the one showing the images from my drone. He used these to take aim. He fired only in short bursts, and with each burst there was one less cry for help.

Soon all was deathly silence.

We stared at the screens. There were bodies everywhere.

‘We’ve beaten them,’ said Chung cautiously, as though he didn’t quite believe what he was saying himself.