Jo Nesbo - Nemesis

The man stopped abruptly when he spotted Harry sitting in front of him.

'Hi, Alf,' Harry said, looking at his watch. 'I've been waiting for you.'

The man stared at him with large eyes. A pale, freckled face was framed by greasy, shoulder-length hair with a Liam Gallagher cut around his ears. He did not remind Harry of a hard-bitten killer but a young lad frightened of more beatings.

'What do you want?' the man asked in a loud, high-pitched voice.

'I want you to come with me to Police HQ.'

The man reacted spontaneously. He swivelled, grabbed the railings and jumped down to the landing beneath. 'Hey!' Harry shouted, but the man had already disappeared from view. The heavy smack of feet as they hit the fifth or sixth step echoed up the stairwell.

'Gunnerud!'

Harry heard the downstairs door slam by way of response.

He reached inside his jacket pocket and realised he didn't have any cigarettes. Now it was the cavalry's turn.

Tom Waaler turned down the music, pulled the bleeping mobile phone from his pocket, pressed the green button and put the phone to his ear. At the other end he could hear breathing coming in quick, nervous pants, and traffic.

'Hello?' said the voice. 'Are you there?' It was the Knave. He sounded terrified.

'What's up, Knave?'

'Oh, God, there you are. All hell's broken loose. You've got to help me. Quick.'

'I don't have to do anything. Answer the question.'

'They've found us. There was a cop on the stairs waiting for me to come home.'

Waaler stopped at the zebra crossing before Ringveien. An old man, with strange, miniscule steps, was making his way across. He seemed to be taking for ever.

'What did he want?' Waaler asked.

'What do you think? To arrest me, I suppose.'

'And why haven't you been arrested?'

'I ran like fuck. Legged it straight away. But they're after me. Three police cars have driven by already. Do you hear? They'll get me unless-'

'Don't shout on the phone. Where were the other officers?'

'I didn't see any others. I just took off.'

'And you got away so easily? Are you sure the guy was a policeman?'

'Yes, it was him, wasn't it!'

'Who?'

'Harry Hole, I suppose. He was in the shop again recently.'

'You didn't tell me.'

'It's a locksmith's. There are police there all the time!'

The lights changed to green. Waaler hooted at the car in front. 'OK, let's talk about it later. Where are you now?'

'I'm in a telephone box in front of er…the Law Courts.' He laughed nervously. 'And I don't like it here.'

'Is there anything in your flat that shouldn't be there?'

'It's clean. All the equipment is in the chalet.'

'And what about you? Are you clean?'

'You know very well I'm off the habit. Are you coming or what? Fuck me, my whole body's shaking.'

'Just take it easy, Knave.' Waaler calculated how long it would take him. Tryvann. Police HQ. City centre. 'Think of it as a bank job. I'll give you a pill when I get there.'

'I've told you, I've given up.' He hesitated. 'I didn't know you carried pills around with you, Prince.'

'Always.'

Silence.

'What have you got?'

'Mother's Arms. Rohypnol. Have you got the Jericho I gave you?'

'Always.'

'Good. Now listen carefully. Our meeting place is the quay to the east of the container terminal. I'm quite a distance away so you'll have to give me forty minutes.'

'What are you talking about? You've got to come here, for fuck's sake! Now!'

Waaler listened to the breathing crackling against the membrane, without answering.

'If they get me, I'll take you with me. I hope you understand that, Prince. I'll sing if I can get off. I'm not fucking taking your rap if you-'

'That sounds like panic, Knave. And we don't need panic now. What guarantee do I have that you haven't already been arrested and this isn't a trap to set me up? Do you understand now? Come on your own and stand under a streetlight so I can see you clearly when I come.'

The Knave groaned: 'Shit! Shit! Shit!'

'Well?'

'Right. Fine. Bring the pills. Shit!'

'Container terminal in forty minutes. Under a light.'

'Don't be late.'

'Hang on, there's more. I'll park down the road from you. When I say so, hold the gun in the air so I can see it clearly.'

'What for? You paranoid, or what?'

'Let's just say the situation is a little unclear at the present moment and I'm not taking any chances. Do as I say.'

Waaler pressed the red button and looked at his watch. Flicked the volume control right round. Guitars. Beautiful pure noise. Beautiful pure fury.

Bjarne Mшller stepped into the flat and scanned the room with a disapproving expression.

'Cosy nook, isn't it,' Weber said.

'An old acquaintance, I heard?'

'Alf Gunnerud. At least the flat's in his name. There are loads of fingerprints here. Have to see whether they're his. Glass.' He pointed to a young man applying a thin brush to the window. 'Best prints are always on glass.'

'Since you're taking prints now, I assume you've found other things here?'

Weber pointed to a plastic bag on a floor rug with a number of other objects. Mшller crouched down and poked a finger through a split in the bag. 'Hm. Tastes like heroin. Must be close on half a kilo. And what's this?'

'A photograph of two children. We still don't know who they are. And a Trioving key which certainly doesn't fit this door.'

'If it's a system key, Trioving can soon tell us who the owner is. There's something familiar about the boy in the photo.'

'I thought so, too.'

'Fusiform gyrus,' a woman's voice said behind them.

'Frшken Lшnn,' Mшller said in surprise. 'What's Robberies Unit doing here?'

'It was me who got the tip-off there was heroin here. I was asked to call you in.'

'So you have informers in the narco family, too?'

'Bank robbers, narco, it's all one big happy family, you know.'

'Who was the informer?'

'No idea. He rang me at home after I'd gone to bed. Wouldn't give his name or say how he knew I was in the police. But the tip-off was so specific and detailed I took action and woke one of the police solicitors.'

'Hm,' Mшller said. 'Drugs. Previous conviction. Chance valuable evidence may be lost. You got the green light straight away, I imagine.'

'Yes.'

'I don't see a body, so why was I called?'

'The informer tipped me off about something else.'

'Oh, yes?'

'Alf Gunnerud is supposed to have known Anna Bethsen intimately. He was her lover and dealer. Until she dumped him for someone else while he was inside. What do you think about that, PAS Mшller?'

Mшller looked at her. 'I'm happy,' he said, without showing any reaction. 'Happier than you can imagine.'

He continued to look at her and, in the end, had to lower his gaze.

'Weber,' he said. 'I want you to cordon off this apartment and call in all the people you have at your disposal. We have a job to do.'

Glock

Stein Thommesen had been working for two years as a uniformed policeman. His greatest wish was to become a detective and his dream to become a police expert with fixed hours, his own office and a better salary than an inspector. To be able to go home to Trine and tell her about an interesting problem at work he and a specialist from the Serious Crime Unit were discussing, which she would find immensely, unimaginably complicated. In the meantime he was doing shifts for a pittance, he woke up dog-tired even after sleeping for ten hours, and when Trine said she wasn't going to live like that for the rest of her life, he would try to explain what it does to you spending your working hours driving teenagers with an overdose to A amp;E, telling kids that he has to arrest their father because he's been beating up their mother, and taking all the shit from people who hate the uniform you're wearing. And Trine would roll her eyes. Heard it all before.