Ю Несбё - The Kingdom

‘What I’d like to say,’ said Carl, resting both hands on the podium, ‘… before I start speaking about the adventure I’m inviting you all to join me on, is that simply standing here on this stage in front of so many old friends and faces is really quite something for me. It’s really quite moving.’

I noticed the air of cautious expectation. Carl had been well liked. At least by those whose ladies hadn’t liked him a little too well. And certainly Carl as he was when he had left town. But was he still Carl? The lively mischief-maker and fun guy with the bright smile, the kind, thoughtful boy with a friendly word for everyone, men and women alike, children as well as adults. Or had he turned into what he described himself as on the invitation: a Master of Business? A mountain bird able to fly at heights where others couldn’t breathe? Canada. Property magnate. An exotic and educated wife from the Caribbean sitting there a little too well made up. Would a normal girl from around these parts be too dull for him now?

‘Wonderful and moving,’ Carl said once again. ‘Because now, finally, I get a taste of what it must have been like to stand here and be…’ An artful pause as he looked out over the gathering and adjusted his tie. ‘…Rod.’

A brief moment. And then came the laughter.

Carl’s white smile. Sure now, sure that he had them. He rested his long arms along the sides of the podium as though he owned it.

‘Fairy tales usually begin with Once upon a time , but this fairy tale hasn’t been written yet. But when the time comes for it to be written, it will begin Once upon a time there was a village that had a meeting at Årtun village hall where they talked about a hotel they were going to build. And we are talking about this hotel…’

He tapped on the remote. The plans appeared on the giant screen behind him. There was a gasp, but I could see that Carl had expected a bigger gasp. Saw it because he’s my brother. Or more accurately: a more positive gasp. Because as I said: I think that in general people prefer the comfort of hearth and home to an igloo on the moon. On the other hand, it had undeniably a certain elegance. There was something about the proportions and the lines, there was a universal beauty about them, like that of an ice crystal, a white-topped breaker, or a pristine mountain face. Or even a service station.

Carl could see that he had a job to do to convince the gathering. I could see him regrouping, as people say. Mobilising himself. Gathering himself for the next assault. He went through the plans and explained what was what. The spa section, the gym, the pool, the kids’ playroom, the different classes of hotel room, the reception and lobby, the restaurant. Stressing that everything here would be top of the range, that their main target group was going to be guests with high expectations. In other words: people with fat wallets. The hotel’s name would be the same as the village. The Os Spa and Mountain Hotel. A name that would be promoted across all media platforms. The village’s name would become a byword for quality, he said. Something exclusive. But not excluding . It should be possible for a family on a normal income to spend a weekend here. But it would have to be something they saved up for, something they looked forward to. The village name should be associated with joy. Carl smiled, showed them a little of that joy. It seemed to me that he was beginning to get the crowd on board. I’d even say that the gathering was starting to show signs of enthusiasm, and that’s not something you get every day around these parts. All the same, the next gasp wasn’t until people heard the total cost.

Four hundred million.

A gasp. The temperature in the room plummeted.

Carl had expected the gasp. But, as I saw from his expression, not quite such a big one.

He began speaking faster, afraid now that he was losing them. Said that for landowners in the area the rise in property prices because of the hotel and the cabin developments by itself would be enough to make investment profitable. The same went for those who ran shops and service businesses, as the hotel and the cabins would bring with them a stream of paying customers. Because these were people who had money, and liked to spend it. In fact, taken separately, the village would probably profit more from this than the hotel itself.

He paused for a few moments. People sat silent and unmoving. Everything seemed to be in the balance. From where I sat in the fifth row I saw something move. Like a flagpole in a stiff wind. It was Aas, sitting in the front row. His white head towering above the others. He nodded. Nodded slowly. Everyone saw it.

And then Carl played his ace.

‘But the precondition of all this is that the hotel is built, and that it opens for business. That people are willing to make the necessary effort. That certain people are willing to accept a degree of risk and finance this project. For the good of the others. Of everyone in the village.’

On average the people round here are less educated than those in the cities. They aren’t as quick to get the point in clever films and urbane sitcoms. But they get the subtext . Because the ideal in Os is not to say more than is necessary, people have a developed understanding of what remains unexpressed. And what remained unexpressed here was that if you didn’t join the ranks of the certain people who invested in the project, then that made you one of the others . Those who would profit from the secondary benefits, without having contributed themselves.

I saw more slow nodding. It seemed to spread.

But then a man raised his voice. Willumsen, the man who had sold Dad the Cadillac.

‘If this is such a good investment, Carl,’ said Willumsen, ‘why do you need all of us? Why not keep the whole cake for yourself? Or as much of it as you can handle alone and get a couple of other big shots to cover the rest?’

‘Because,’ said Carl, ‘I’m not a big shot. And not too many of you are either. I could have taken a bigger share, sure, and I’ll happily take what’s left over if the investment isn’t fully covered. But my vision when I came home with this project was that everyone should have the chance to take part, not just those with money to spare. That’s why I’m seeing this as an SL company. Shared Responsibilty. It means that none of you need to put anything up front at all to become part-owners of this hotel. Not one single øre!’ Carl pounded the podium.

Pause. Silence. I could feel what they were thinking. What kind of fucking hocus pocus is that? Is this Preacher Armand all over again?

Then Carl read them the Good News gospel. About how you can own without paying. And as the Master of Business spoke, they listened.

‘That means,’ he said, ‘that the more who invest, the less the risk at the individual level. If everyone signs up, none of us risks any more than what we might pay for a car. At least, not if we bought it second-hand from Willumsen here.’

Laughter. Even some applause from the back of the hall. Everyone knew the story of the car sale, and right at that moment no one seems to have been thinking about what happened to that car later. A smiling Carl pointed to someone with a raised hand.

A man stood up. Tall, as tall as Carl. I could see that it was only now Carl recognised him. Maybe he regretted inviting the guy to speak. Simon Nergard opened a mouth in which two teeth were noticeably whiter than the others. I could be wrong, but it seemed to me I could still hear a whistling from his nostrils when he spoke, from the bone that didn’t mend right.

‘Since this hotel is going to be on land you and your brother own…’ He took his time, let it hang for a moment.