Jo Nesbo - Nemesis

'But the cream bun-'

'He's eating his fingerprints too,' Harry sighed.

'-makes him thirsty. Watch this now.'

The man bent down, unzipped the holdall and pulled out a white plastic bag. From this he removed a bottle.

'Coca-Cola,' Beate whispered. 'I zoomed in on a still before you came. It's a Coke bottle with a cork in.'

The man held the bottle at the top while pulling out the cork. Then he threw back his head, held the bottle high in the air and poured. They could see the last dregs running out, but the cap blotted out the open mouth and face. Then he put the bottle in the plastic bag, knotted it and was about to put it in his holdall when he paused.

'Watch. Now he's thinking,' Beate whispered, and in a low monotone: 'How much room will the money take up? How much room will the money take up?'

The protagonist studied the holdall. Looked at the skip. Then he made up his mind and with a quick toss of his arm the bag, with the bottle inside, sailed in an arc through the air and landed in the open skip.

'A three-pointer!' Harry roared.

'The crowd goes wild!' Beate yelled.

'Fuck!' Harry shouted.

'Oh no,' Beate groaned and banged her forehead against the wheel in despair.

'They must have just been here,' Harry said. 'Hang on!'

He flung open the car door in front of a cyclist who swerved out of the way, and ran across the street, into the 7-Eleven and over to the counter.

'When did they take the skip?' he asked the boy who was about to wrap two Big Bite sausages for two large-bottomed girls.

'Wait your turn, for Christ's sake,' the boy said without looking up.

One of the girls let out an indignant whine as Harry leaned over, blocking access to the ketchup bottle, and grabbed hold of the boy's green shirt front.

'Hello there, it's me again,' Harry said. 'Now follow this carefully, otherwise this sausage will be going right up…'

The boy's terrified expression forced Harry to collect himself. He released his grip and pointed to the window, through which you could now see Nordea Bank on the other side of the street because of the gaping hole left by the skip. 'When did they take the skip? Quickly!'

The boy swallowed and stared at Harry. 'Now. Just now.'

'When is now?'

'Two minutes ago.' His eyes had glazed over.

'Where were they going?'

'How should I know? I don't know nuffin about skips.'

'Nothing.'

'Eh?'

But Harry had already gone.

Harry put Beate's red mobile phone to his ear.

'Oslo Waste Management? This is the police, Inspector Harry Hole. Where do you empty those skips of yours? The private ones, yes. Metodica, OK. Where are…Verkseier Furulands vei in Alnabru? Thank you. What? Or Grшnmo? How do I know which one…?'

'Look,' Beate said. 'A traffic jam.'

Cars formed an apparently impenetrable wall down towards the T-junction in front of Kafй Lorry in Hegdehaugsveien.

'We should have taken Uranienborgveien,' Harry said. 'Or Kirkeveien.'

'Shame you're not driving,' Beate said, forcing the front offside wheel up onto the pavement, leaning on the horn and accelerating. People jumped out of the way.

'Hello?' Harry said on the mobile phone. 'You've just collected a green skip from Bogstadveien by the Industrigata crossroads. Where is it going? Yes. I'll wait.'

'Let's take a chance on Alnabru,' Beate said and swung out into the crossroads in front of a tram. The wheels spun on the steel rails until they got a grip on the tarmac. Harry had a vague feeling of dйjа vu.

They had come to Pilestredet when the man from Oslo Waste Management came back to say that they couldn't contact the driver on his mobile, but the skip was probably on its way to Alnabru.

'Fine,' Harry said. 'Can you ring Metodica and ask them not to empty the contents of the skip into the incinerator until we…Your office is closed from 11.30 to 12.00? Careful! No, I was talking to the driver. No, my driver.'

In the Ibsen tunnel Harry called Police HQ and asked them to send a patrol car to Metodica, but the closest available car was at least fifteen minutes away.

'Fuck!' Harry threw the mobile phone over his shoulder and smacked the dashboard.

At the roundabout between Byporten and Plaza Beate sneaked into the space between a red bus and a Chevy van, straddling the white line. When she came down the raised intersection known as the traffic machine doing 110 km/h and performed a controlled skid on screaming tyres, into the hairpin bend on the fjord side of Oslo Central station, Harry realised that all hope was not yet lost.

'Who was the mad bastard who taught you to drive?' he asked, holding on tight as they swerved in and out between cars on the three-lane motorway leading to Ekeberg tunnel.

'Self-taught,' Beate said.

In the middle of the Vеlerenga tunnel a large, ugly, diesel-vomiting lorry loomed up ahead of them. It lumbered into the right-hand lane; on the back, held in place by two yellow arms, was a green skip bearing the words OSLO WASTE MANAGEMENT.

'Yess!' Harry shouted.

Beate swung in front of the lorry, slowed down and activated the right indicator. Harry rolled down the window, stretched out a hand holding his ID and waved the lorry into the side of the road with the other.

The driver had no objection to Harry taking a look inside the skip, but wondered if they shouldn't wait until they were in the Metodica yard, where they could empty the contents onto the ground.

'I don't want the bottle to be smashed!' Harry yelled over the noise of passing traffic from the back of the lorry.

'I was thinking about your nice suit,' the driver said, but by then Harry had already scrambled up into the skip. The next moment, a rumble of thunder could be heard from inside, and the driver and Beate heard Harry roundly cursing. Then quite a bit of rooting around. And finally another 'Yess!' before he reappeared over the top of the skip with a white plastic bag held above his head like a trophy.

'Give the bottle to Weber immediately and tell him it's urgent,' Harry said as Beate started the car. 'Say hello from me.'

'Will that help?'

Harry scratched his head. 'No. Just say it's urgent.'

She laughed. Not very much, nor heartfelt, but Harry noted the laughter.

'Are you always so enthusiastic?' she asked.

'Me? What about you? You were ready to drive us into an early grave for this evidence, weren't you?'

She smiled, but didn't answer. Checked the mirror before returning to the carriageway.

Harry glanced at his watch. 'Damn!'

'Late for a meeting?'

'Do you think you could drive me to Majorstuen church?'

'Of course. Is that why you're wearing the black suit?'

'Yes. A…friend of mine.'

'Then perhaps you'd better try and get rid of the brown stain on your shoulder first.'

Harry craned his head. 'From the skip,' he said, brushing at it. 'Has it gone now?'

Beate passed him a handkerchief. 'Try a little spit. Was it a close friend?'

'No. Or yes…for a while perhaps. But you have to go to funerals, don't you.'

'Do you?'

'Don't you?'

'I've only been to one funeral all my life.'

They drove in silence.

'Your father?'

She nodded.

They passed the intersection at Sinsen. At Muselunden, the large area of grass below Haraldsheimen, a man and two boys had a kite in the air. All three stood looking at the blue sky and Harry saw the man give the string to the taller of the two boys.

'We still haven't caught the man who did it,' she said.

'No, we haven't,' Harry said. 'Not yet.'

'God giveth and God taketh away,' the priest said, peering down over the empty rows of benches and at the tall man with cropped hair who had just tiptoed in, looking for a seat at the very back. He waited as the echo of a loud, heart-rending sob died away under the arched ceiling. 'But on occasion it can seem as if He is merely taking.'