Jo Nesbo - The Son

The big man stuck a cigarette in between his fleshy lips. The cigarette looked strangely small against his big head. ‘But, of course, these status symbols are also there to remind potential rivals and opponents of my power. It’s the same with violence and brutality. I don’t like it. But sometimes it’s necessary to maintain motivation. Incentivise people to pay me what they owe me. Induce them not to work against me. .’ He lit the cigarette with a pistol lighter. ‘For example, there was a man who used to modify weapons for me. He retired. I accept that a man would rather fix motorbikes than make guns. What I can’t accept is that he then gives an Uzi to someone he knows has already killed several of my men.’

The big man tapped the aquarium glass.

The young and the older man’s gaze followed his finger. The young man jumped in his chair. The older man just stared.

The white stone with the undulating grass growing from it. It wasn’t a stone. And the reflection didn’t come from a crystal. But from a gold tooth.

‘Now some people might think decapitating a man is excessive, but if you want to instil loyalty in your staff, sometimes you have to go the extra mile. I’m sure you’ll agree with me, Chief Inspector.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ the older man said.

The big man tilted his head and studied him. ‘Trouble hearing, Chief Inspector?’

The older man shifted his gaze from the aquarium back to the big man. ‘Old age, I’m afraid. So if you could speak up, that would be helpful.’

The Twin laughed in surprise. ‘Speak up?’ He took a drag of his cigarette and looked across to the blond man.

‘Did you check them for wires?’

‘Yes, boss. We also checked the restaurant.’

‘Then you’re going deaf, Kefas. What’s going to happen to you and your wife when. . what’s the saying? The blind will be leading the deaf?’

He looked around with his eyebrows raised and the four men immediately burst out laughing.

‘They laugh because they’re scared of me,’ the big man said, addressing the young man. ‘Are you scared, boy?’

The young man said nothing.

The older man glanced at his watch.

Kari glanced at her watch. 7.14. Parr had stressed that they had to be on time.

‘This is it,’ Parr said, pointing to the name at the front. He went up to the door of the restaurant and held it open for Kari.

It was dark and quiet in the cloakroom, but she could hear a voice coming from a room further down the corridor.

Parr took his pistol out of the shoulder holster and signalled to Kari to do the same. She knew stories were going around the station about her performance with the shotgun at Enerhaugen, so she had explained to the Commissioner that she, despite the evidence, was a novice in armed raids. But he had responded that Simon had insisted that she — and only she — should accompany him and added that in nine out of ten cases it was enough to show your warrant card. And in ninety-nine out of a hundred cases enough to show it along with a weapon. Even so, Kari’s heart was pounding wildly as they moved swiftly down the corridor.

The voice fell quiet as they entered the dining room.

‘Police!’ Parr said, aiming the pistol at the people sitting at the only occupied table. Kari had taken two steps to the side and had the bigger of the two men in her sights. For one moment it was completely quiet except for Johnny Cash’s voice and ‘Give My Love to Rose’ pouring out of a small speaker on the wall between the buffet and the stuffed head of a long-horned ox. A steak restaurant serving breakfast. The two men at the table, both wearing pale grey suits, looked at them in surprise. Kari realised that they weren’t the only customers in the bright room after all; at a table by the window overlooking the seafront, an elderly couple looked like they were having a simultaneous heart attack. We must be in the wrong place, Kari thought. This couldn’t possibly be the restaurant Simon wanted them to go to. Then the smaller of the two men dabbed his mouth with his napkin and spoke.

‘Thank you for coming here in person, Commissioner. I can assure you that neither of us is armed or has evil intentions.’

‘Who are you?’ Parr thundered.

‘My name is Jan Ohre, I’m a lawyer and I represent this gentleman, Iver Iversen Senior.’ He extended his hand towards the taller man and Kari immediately recognised the likeness to Iversen Junior.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘The same as you, I presume.’

‘Really? I was told there were criminals on the menu.’

‘And that’s a promise we intend to keep, Parr.’

‘Well,’ the big man said, ‘you should be scared.’

He nodded to the blond man who pulled a slim, long-bladed knife from his belt, took a step forward, put his arm around the young man’s forehead and pressed the knife against his throat.

‘Do you really think I care about you stealing a bit of loose change from me, Lofthus? Forget the money and the drugs. I’ve promised Bo that he gets to cut you into little pieces, and I regard the lost drugs and the money as a good investment. A good investment in motivation, yes? There are several ways we can do this, of course, but you’ll suffer a less painful death if you tell us what you did with Sylvester so that we can give him a Christian burial. So, what’s it to be?’

The young man gulped, but said nothing.

The big man banged the table with his fist so the glasses jumped. ‘Are you deaf as well?’

‘Perhaps he is,’ said the blond man whose face was right by the young man’s ear sticking up under the arm he had wrapped around him. ‘Buddha here is wearing earplugs.’

The others laughed.

The big man shook his head in despair while he scrolled his way to the code on the other briefcase.

‘He’s yours, Bo, cut him up.’ There was a ping when the big man opened the briefcase, but the men were too focused on Bo’s knife to notice the small metal pin falling from the inside of the briefcase and bouncing across the stone floor.

‘Your tiny, clever mother is right about a lot of things, but wrong as far as you’re concerned,’ Simon said. ‘She never should have let the devil’s child suck her tits.’

‘What the h-’ the big man began. His men turned round. In the briefcase, next to a pistol and an Uzi, lay an olive-green object that looked like a handlebar grip of a bicycle.

The big man looked up again, just in time to see the older man flip down the sunglasses from his forehead.

‘It’s correct that I agreed with Chief Inspector Simon Kefas to meet you here with my client,’ Jan Ohre said, having shown Pontius Parr ID to prove that he was indeed a lawyer. ‘Didn’t he tell you?’

‘No,’ Pontius Parr said. Kari could see the confusion and anger in Parr’s face. Ohre exchanged glances with his client. ‘Am I to take it that you don’t know about our deal, either?’

‘What deal?’

‘Our plea bargain for a reduced sentence.’

Parr shook his head. ‘All Simon Kefas told me was that I would have a couple of criminals handed to me on a plate. So what’s this about?’

Ohre was about to reply when Iver Iversen leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Ohre nodded and Iversen sat back in his chair again and closed his eyes. Kari studied him. He looked broken, she thought. Beaten, resigned.

Ohre cleared his throat. ‘Chief Inspector Kefas believes he has some. . eh, evidence against my client and his late wife. It concerns a number of property transactions with a party by the name of Levi Thou. Perhaps better known by his nickname, the Twin.’

Thou, Kari thought. Not a common name, and yet she had heard it recently. Someone she had said hello to. Someone at the police station.