Jo Nesbo - Nemesis

'First of all, he doesn't own anything you can see here. And I neither know nor wish to know where he is. Have you got a cigarette, Inspector?'

Harry passed her the packet and watched her fumbling with a large teak-and-silver table lighter. He leaned over the table with his disposable version.

'Thank you. He's abroad, I would guess. Somewhere hot. Not as hot as I would like it to be, I'm afraid.'

'Mm. What do you mean he doesn't own anything here?'

'Exactly what I say. The house, the furnishings, the car-it's all mine.' She blew out the smoke with force. 'Ask my solicitor.'

'I thought your husband had the money for-'

'Don't call him that!' Vigdis seemed to be trying to suck all the tobacco out of the cigarette. 'Yes, Arne had money. He had enough to buy this house, the furniture, the cars, the suits, the chalet and the jewellery he gave me for no other reason than to show off in front of all the so-called friends. The only thing that had any meaning for Arne was what others thought of him, you see. His family, my family, colleagues, neighbours and student friends.' The anger gave her voice a harsh metallic timbre as though she were talking through a megaphone. 'Everyone was a spectator to Arne Albu's fantastic life. They were meant to applaud when things were going well. If Arne had put as much energy into running the company as he did reaping plaudits, perhaps Albu AS would not have gone downhill the way it did.'

'According to Dagens Nжringsliv Albu AS was a successful enterprise.'

'Albu AS was a family business, not a stock-exchange-listed company which has to publish details of its accounts. Arne made it look profitable by selling off its assets.' She crushed the half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray. 'A couple of years ago the company had an acute liquidity crisis and since Arne was personally responsible for the debt, he put the house and all our other possessions in my name and the children's.'

'Yes, but the buyers paid a tidy sum. Thirty million, the papers said.'

Vigdis gave a bitter laugh. 'So you swallowed the story of the successful businessman stepping down to spend more time with his family, did you? Arne's good at PR, I'll give him that. Let me put it this way-Arne had the choice of losing the business or going bust. Naturally, he chose the former.'

'And the thirty million?'

'Arne can put on the charm when he wants to. And people fall for it. That's why he's good at negotiating, especially in pressurised situations. That was what made the bank and the supplier keep the business alive for as long as they did. Arne negotiated two clauses in the contract with the supplier in what ought to have been an unconditional capitulation. He would be allowed to keep the chalet, which was still in his name, and he got the buyer to put the purchase figure at thirty million. That didn't mean much to them as they could write the whole sum off with the debts of Albu AS. He made a bankruptcy look like a sales coup. And that's not such a mean feat, is it.'

She threw back her head and laughed. Harry could see the little scar under the chin left by a facelift.

'What about Anna Bethsen?' he asked.

'His tart?' She crossed her slim legs, flicked her hair away from her face with a finger and stared into space with an air of indifference. 'She was just a toy. His big mistake was his keenness to show off to the boys about his authentic gypsy lover. Not everyone Arne regarded as friends felt they owed him any particular loyalty, shall we say. In short, it came to my ears.'

'And?'

'I gave him another chance. For the children's sake. I'm a reasonable woman.' She looked at Harry through heavy eyelids. 'But he didn't take it.'

'Perhaps he discovered she was more than a toy?'

She didn't answer, but the thin lips became even thinner.

'Did he have a study or anything like that?' Harry asked.

Vigdis Albu nodded.

She led the way up the stairs. 'He used to lock himself in and sit up here half the night.' She opened the door to an attic room with a view of neighbouring roofs.

'Working?'

Surfing the Net. He was utterly hooked. Said he looked at cars, but God knows what he did.'

Harry went to the desk and pulled out one of the drawers. 'Emptied?'

'He took everything he had here with him. It filled one plastic bag.'

'The computer too?'

'It was a laptop.'

'Which he attached to a mobile phone?'

She raised an eyebrow. 'I don't know anything about that.'

'I just wondered.'

'Anything else you want to see?'

Harry turned round. Vigdis was leaning against the door frame with one arm over her head and the other on her hip. The feeling of dйjа vu was overwhelming.

'I have one last question, fru…Vigdis.'

'Oh, are you in a rush, Inspector?'

'The clock's running on a taxi outside. The question is simple. Do you think he could have killed her?'

She studied Harry in her own time as she lightly kicked at the door sill with the heel of her shoe. Harry waited.

'Do you know the first thing he said when I told him about his whore? Promise me you won't tell anyone, Vigdis. I shouldn't tell anyone! For Arne the notion that others considered us happy was more important than whether we really were. My answer, Inspector, is that I have no idea what he is capable of. I don't know the man.'

Harry took a card out of his inside pocket. 'I'd like you to give me a call if he contacts you or if you find out where he is. Immediately.'

Vigdis looked at his card with a tiny smile playing around her pale pink lips. 'Only then, Inspector?'

Harry didn't answer.

On the stairs outside he turned to her. 'Did you tell anyone?'

'That my husband was unfaithful? What do you think?'

'I think you're a practical woman.'

She beamed.

'Eighteen minutes,' Шystein said. 'Shit, my pulse was beginning to race.'

'Did you ring my old mobile number while I was in there?'

'Of course. It just rang and rang.'

'I didn't hear a thing. It's not there any more.'

'Sorry, but have you heard about vibrate?'

'What?'

Шystein simulated an epileptic fit. 'Like that. Vibrate mode. Silent phone.'

'Mine cost one krone and just rang. He's taken it with him, Шystein. What happened to the blue BMW down the street?'

'Eh?'

Harry sighed. 'Let's get going.'

Maglite

'Are you telling me some psycho is after us because you can't find the person who killed a member of his family?' Rakel's voice screeched down the phone.

Harry closed his eyes. Halvorsen had gone to Elmer's and he had the office to himself. 'In a nutshell, yes. I've come to an agreement with him. He's kept his part.'

'And that's why we're being hunted? That's why I have to leave the hotel with my son, who in a few days' time will find out whether he's allowed to stay with his mother or not? That's…that's…' Her voice rose into a furious, intermittent falsetto. He let her go on without interrupting. 'Why, Harry?'

'The oldest reason in the world,' he said. 'Blood revenge. Vendetta.'

'What's it got to do with us?'

'As I said: nothing. You and Oleg are not the end, only the means. This man sees it as his duty to avenge the killing.'

'Duty?' Her scream pierced Harry's eardrum. 'Vengeance is one of these territorial things you men like so much. It's not about duty, it's the Neanderthal urge!'

He waited until he thought she was finished. 'I'm sorry about this, but there's nothing I can do right now.'

She didn't answer.

'Rakel?'

'Yes.'

'Where are you?'

'If what you say is right, about how easily they found us, I'm not sure I'll risk telling you on the phone.'

'OK. Are you somewhere safe?'

'I think so.'

'Good.'