Jo Nesbo - The Son

‘In my job you learn the art of forgiving the unforgivable, Chief Inspector. Of course it’s possible that Per ultimately couldn’t forgive himself and that’s why he chose this way out. But it’s also possible that-’

‘-someone, let’s say the father of a child who had been abused, wanted to avoid pressing charges that would also stigmatise the victim. And, besides, the someone couldn’t be sure that Per Vollan would be punished and, in any case, whatever sentence he got wouldn’t be enough. So the someone decided to be judge, jury and executioner.’

Martha nodded. ‘It’s only human if someone hurts your child, I guess. Haven’t you ever come across cases in your work where the law is inadequate?’

Simon Kefas shook his head. ‘If police officers gave in to that kind of temptation, the law would be pointless. And I actually believe in the rule of law. Justice must be blind. Do you suspect anyone in particular?’

‘No.’

‘Drug debt?’ Kari Adel asked.

Martha shook her head. ‘I would have known if he was using.’

‘I’m asking because I’ve just texted an officer from the Drug Squad about Per Vollan. And he replied. .’ She took her mobile out of her tight jacket pocket and there was a clunk when a marble came out with it, hit the floor and started rolling eastwards. ‘ Seen him talking to one of Nestor’s dealers sometimes ,’ she read out loud while she rose and started looking for the marble. ‘ Seen him buy a wrap, but not pay .’ Kari Adel put the phone back in her pocket and caught the marble before it reached the wall.

‘And what do you make of that?’ Simon asked.

‘That this building slopes towards Alexander Kiellands Plass. Probably more blue clay and less granite on that side.’

Martha chuckled.

The tall, thin woman smiled briefly. ‘And that Vollan owed money to someone. A wrap of heroin costs three hundred kroner. And that’s not even a full wrap, that’s just 0.2 gram. Two bags a day-’

‘Not so fast,’ Simon interrupted her. ‘Junkies don’t get credit, do they?’

‘Not usually, no. Perhaps he was doing favours for someone and was paid in heroin.’

Martha threw up her hands. ‘He wasn’t using, I keep telling you! Half my job is knowing if people are clean, OK?’

‘You’re right, of course, Miss Lian,’ Simon said, rubbing his chin. ‘Perhaps the heroin wasn’t for him.’ He got up. ‘Anyway, we’ll have to wait and see what the medical examiner says.’

‘Good idea of yours to text the Drug Squad,’ Simon said as he drove them down Uelandsgate towards the city centre.

‘Thank you,’ Kari said.

‘Nice girl, that Martha Lian. Have you come across her before?’

‘No, but I wouldn’t have kicked her out of bed if I had.’

‘What?’

‘Sorry, bad joke. You meant if I knew her from my time with the Drug Squad. I do. She’s lovely and I’ve always wondered why she works at the Ila Centre.’

‘Because she’s pretty?’

‘It’s a well-known fact that good looks improve the career prospects of people with only average intelligence and ability. Working at the Ila Centre isn’t a springboard for anything as far as I can see.’

‘Perhaps she thinks it’s a worthwhile job.’

‘Worthwhile? Have you any idea what they pay-’

‘Worth doing. Police work doesn’t pay very well, either.’

‘True.’

‘But it’s a good place to start your career if you combine it with a law degree,’ Simon said. ‘When will you finish the second level?’

Again he detected a hint of reddening on Kari’s neck and knew he had touched a nerve.

‘Right,’ Simon said. ‘Nice to have the use of your services. I expect you’ll be my boss soon. Or you’ll get a job in the private sector where salaries are on average one and a half times more for people with skills like ours.’

‘Perhaps,’ Kari said. ‘But I don’t think I’ll ever be your boss. You’re due to retire next March.’

Simon didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He turned left at Gronlandsleiret, towards Police HQ.

‘One and a half times your salary would come in very handy if you’re doing up a property. Flat or house?’

‘House,’ Kari said. ‘We plan on having two children and we need more room. Given the cost per square metre in central Oslo, you have to buy a place that needs doing up unless you inherit money. Both mine and Sam’s parents are alive and well; and besides, Sam and I agree that subsidy corrupts.’

‘Corrupts? Really?’

‘Yes.’

Simon looked at the Pakistani shop owners who had left their overheated shops and come out into the street where they chatted, smoked cigarettes and watched the traffic.

‘Aren’t you curious how I knew that you’re house-hunting?’

‘The marble,’ Kari said. ‘Adults with no children only have one of those in their pocket if they’re viewing old houses or flats and want to check if the floors are sloping due to subsidence so badly they’ll have to be taken up.’

She really was clever.

‘Just bear this in mind,’ Simon said. ‘If a house has been standing for 120 years, the floors should be a little crooked.’

‘Perhaps so,’ Kari said, leaning forward to look at the spire of Gronland Church. ‘But I like it when the floors are level.’

Simon started to laugh. He might grow to like this girl. He liked the floors level, too.

‘I knew your father,’ Johannes Halden said.

It was raining outside. It had been a warm, sunny day; the clouds had built up on the horizon and the light summer drizzle fell across the city. Johannes remembered what it felt like before he was banged up. How the little drops of rain warmed up the moment they hit your sun-kissed skin. How it made the smell of dust rise from the tarmac. The scent of flowers, grass and leaves would make him wild, dizzy and frisky. Ah, to be young again.

‘I was his confidential informant,’ Johannes said.

Sonny sat in darkness close to the wall and it was impossible to see his face. Johannes didn’t have very much time; the cells would soon be locked up for the night. He took a deep breath. Here it came. The sentence he needed to say, but dreaded the consequences. Uttering the words that had sat in his chest for so long he was afraid that they had taken root.

‘It’s not true that he shot himself, Sonny.’

There. He had finally told him.

Silence.

‘You’re not asleep, are you, Sonny?’

Johannes could see the body shift in the shadow.

‘I know what it must have been like for you and your mother. Finding your father dead. Reading the note where he claimed he was the mole in the police who had helped drug dealers and traffickers. That he had told them about raids, evidence, suspects. .’

He saw the white in a pair of blinking eyes.

‘But it was the other way round, Sonny. Your father suspected who the mole was. I overheard Nestor talk on the phone to his boss about how they had to get rid of a policeman called Lofthus before he ruined everything for them. I told your father about that conversation, that he was in danger, that the police had to move quickly. But your father said that he couldn’t involve other people, that he had to go it alone because he knew there were other police officers in hock to Nestor. So he got me to swear to keep my mouth shut and never breathe a word of it to a living soul. And I’ve kept that promise right up until now.’

Had Sonny understood? Possibly not, but the most important thing wasn’t that Sonny had listened or the consequences, but that Johannes had got it off his chest. Finally told him. Delivered the message to its rightful owner.

‘Your father was alone that weekend; you and your mother were at a wrestling competition out of town. He knew they were coming for him so he barricaded himself inside that yellow house of yours up in Berg.’