Ю Несбё - The Kingdom

‘How’s things?’ he asked.

‘Can’t complain,’ I said. Sometimes Carl rang just because he wondered how I was doing. But today I could hear that was not the reason.

‘Can’t complain?’

‘Sorry, it’s just something they say down here in Sørlandet.’ I hated the way they said ‘can’t complain’. It was like the winters, neither one thing nor the other. When people down here meet someone they know on the street they say ‘now then’, which I think is a cross between a question and a greeting, sort of like ‘how are you’, but sounding more like they’ve caught you red-handed at something.

‘And you?’

‘Fine,’ said Carl.

I heard that it wasn’t fine. Waited for the ‘but’.

‘Apart from going slightly over budget,’ he said.

‘How slightly?’

‘Not much. What it actually is, there’s a little disharmony in the cash flow. The invoices from the builders are due for payment earlier than expected. We don’t need more cash putting into the project, we just need it a little earlier. I told the bank that we’re a bit ahead of schedule now.’

‘And are you?’

‘We, Roy. We. You’re a co-owner, or have you forgotten? And no, we aren’t ahead. It’s one hell of a conjuring trick when so many airheads have to be coordinated. The building business is a strange ragbag of subcontractors who are all school dropouts and ended up in jobs no one else wants. But because there’s such a demand for the few of them there actually are, they can come and go as they please.’

‘The last shall be first.’

‘Do they say that down south as well?’

‘All the time. They like everything that’s slow. Compared to down here things in Os are all fast-forward.’

Carl laughed his warm laugh, and I felt happy and warm myself. Warmed by the sound of the murderer’s laugh.

‘The bank manager pointed out that one of the conditions of the loan is that certain milestones have to be reached before we can have access to further credit. He said they’d been up to have a look around the site and that what I said about progress up there wasn’t accurate. So there was what you might call a crisis of confidence. Sure, I managed to patch things up, but now the bank is saying I have to inform the participants before they’ll make further payments. It says in the participants’ agreement that, since they have unlimited responsibility, they need an official resolution from the committee to the effect that the project needs more capital.’

‘Then that’s what you’ll have to do.’

‘Yeah yeah, so I guess I will. It’s just that that may set up bad vibes, and in principle the committee can summon a general meeting and put a stop to the whole thing. Especially now that Dan has started digging and poking around.’

‘Dan Krane?’

‘He’s been trying to dig up something to take me down all autumn. Calling round the contractors and asking about progress and budgets. He’s looking for something that he can turn into a full-blown crisis, but he can’t print a thing as long as he’s got nothing definite to go on.’

‘And not as long as a quarter of your readers and your father-in-law are involved in the hotel.’

‘Exactly,’ said Carl. ‘You don’t shit in your own nest.’

‘Well, not unless you’re a gentoo penguin,’ I said. ‘Then you shit in your own nest so as to make it your nest.’

‘Really?’ said Carl doubtfully.

‘The shit attracts the sunlight, which melts the ice so you get a depression and – hey presto – there’s your nest. It’s the same method journalists use to attract a readership. The media lives off the attracting powers of shit.’

‘An interesting image,’ said Carl.

‘Indeed,’ I said.

‘But for Krane this is personal, you do realise that?’

‘And how do you propose to put a stop to it?’

‘I’ve talked to the contractors and got them to promise to keep their mouths shut. Fortunately they know what’s best for them. But yesterday I heard from a pal in Canada that Krane has started digging around into that business in Toronto.’

‘What will he find there?’

‘Not a lot. It’s my word against theirs, and the whole thing is too complex for a Mickey Mouse journo like Krane to be able to understand.’

‘Unless he’s got the bit between his teeth,’ I said.

‘Shit, Roy, I’m ringing you to cheer me up here.’

‘It’ll all work out. And if it doesn’t you can get Willumsen to set one of his enforcers on Krane.’

We laughed. It sounded as if he was relaxing a bit.

‘How are things at home?’ The query was so general it could hardly make my vocal cords quaver suspiciously.

‘Well, you know, the place is still standing. And Shannon seems to have calmed down. Not when it comes to all her objections to the hotel, but at least she’s stopped going on about us having kids. Probably realises the timing’s off when we’re in the middle of all this.’

I made a few appropriate noises that told him this was information of interest, but nothing more than that.

‘But what I’m really calling you about is that the Cadillac needs a bit of work doing on it.’

‘Define a bit of work .’

‘You’re the expert, I haven’t a clue, you know that. Shannon was driving it and she heard some funny noises. She grew up in a Buick from Cuba and says she has a feel for veteran American cars. She suggested you take a look down at the workshop when you’re home for Christmas.’

I didn’t answer.

‘Because you are coming home for Christmas?’ he said.

‘A lot of people at the station want time off—’

‘No! A lot of people at the station want overtime . And they live there, and you’re coming home for Christmas! And you promised, remember? You’ve got family. Not a big family, but the family you have got are looking forward so damn much to seeing you again.’

‘Carl, I…’

‘ Pinnekjøtt ,’ said Carl. ‘She’s taught herself to make pinnekjøtt . And mashed swede. I’m not kidding. She loves Norwegian Christmas food.’

I closed my eyes, but there she was, so I opened them again. Damn. Not damn. Damn . And why hadn’t I worked out a proper excuse? After all, I knew the question about Christmas would come up.

‘I’ll see what I can work out, Carl.’

Right. That gave me time to think of something. Something he’d accept. Hopefully.

‘You’ll work it out,’ Carl exulted. ‘We’ll arrange a proper family Christmas here, you won’t have to worry about a thing! Just cruise on into the yard, smell that smell of pinnekjøtt , and be served an aquavit on the steps by your little brother. It won’t be the same without you, you must . You hear me? You must!’

THE DAY BEFORE CHRISTMAS EVE. The Volvo was purring along nicely and the piled-up snow lay like massive lines of cocaine along the sides of the highway. ‘Driving Home for Christmas’ came on the radio, which was appropriate enough as far as it goes, but I slipped J. J. Cale’s ‘Cocaine’ into the CD player anyway.

Speedometer needle under the speed limit. Pulse normal.

I sang along. Not that I sniff that stuff. Apart from the one time Carl sent it in one of his rare letters from Canada. I was already on a high anyway when I took it, which was maybe why I didn’t really notice any difference. Or maybe it was because I was alone. Alone and on a high, like now. There was the county sign by the roadside. High, and pulse normal. That must be what people mean when they say happy.

I hadn’t managed to come up with an excuse not to come home for Christmas. And I could hardly not ever see my family again, now could I? So I ought to be able to manage three days of Christmas celebrations. Three days in the same house as Shannon. And after that straight back to solitary.