Jo Nesbo - The Thirst

‘Thank you,’ Harry said. ‘So what do you say, Smith? Would you like to explain this to the adjudication committee here and now, before we arrest you?’

Hallstein Smith looked at Harry. His panting was the only sound that could be heard, as if he were the only person in the auditorium who was still breathing. A lone flashbulb went off.

A livid disputation chairman leaned towards Ståle and whispered in a hiss:

‘Holy Jeremiah, Aune, what’s going on here?’

‘Do you know what a monkey trap is?’ Ståle Aune asked, then settled back in his chair and folded his arms.

Hallstein Smith’s head jerked, as if he’d been given an electric shock. He laughed as he raised his arm and pointed at the ceiling. ‘What have I got to lose, Harry?’

Harry didn’t answer.

‘Yes, Valentin was steered. By me. Of course I wrote those emails. But the most important thing isn’t who was behind them, the scientific point is that Valentin was a genuine vampirist, as my research demonstrates, and nothing you’ve said invalidates my results. And if I had to adjust the circumstances to recreate laboratory conditions, that’s no more than researchers have always done. Is it?’ He looked around the audience. ‘But when it comes down to it, I’m not choosing what he does, he is. And six human lives isn’t an unreasonable price to pay for what this –’ Smith tapped his printed and bound thesis with his forefinger – ‘can save humanity from in future, in terms of murder and suffering. The signs and profiles are all laid out here. Valentin Gjertsen was the one who drank their blood, who killed them, not me. I just made it easier for him. When you just for once have the good fortune to encounter a real vampirist, you have a duty to make the most of it, you can’t let short-sighted moralistic attitudes stop you. You have to look at the bigger picture, consider what’s best for humanity. Just ask Oppenheimer, ask Mao, ask the thousands of lab rats with cancer.’

‘So you killed Lenny Hell and shot Marte Ruud for our sakes?’ Harry said.

‘Yes, yes! Sacrifices on the altar of research!’

‘The way you’re sacrificing yourself and your own humanity? To benefit humanity?’

‘Exactly, yes!’

‘So they didn’t die in order that you, Hallstein Smith, could be vindicated? So that the monkey could sit on the throne, get his name in the history books? Because that’s what’s been driving you all along, isn’t it?’

‘I have shown you what a vampirist is, and what one is capable of! Don’t I deserve to be thanked for that?’

‘Well,’ Harry said, ‘first and foremost, you’ve demonstrated what a humiliated man is capable of.’

Hallstein Smith’s head jerked again. His mouth opened and closed. But nothing more came out.

‘We’ve heard enough.’ The chair stood up. ‘This disputation is at an end. And can I ask any police officers present to arrest—?’

Hallstein Smith moved surprisingly quickly. With two rapid steps he reached the table and snatched up the revolver, then took a long stride towards the audience and aimed the revolver at the forehead of the nearest person.

‘Get up!’ he snarled. ‘And the rest of you remain seated!’

Katrine saw a blonde woman stand up. Smith turned her round so that she was standing in front of him like a shield. It was Ulla Bellman. Her mouth was open and she was looking in mute despair at a man in the front row. Katrine could only see the back of Mikael Bellman’s head and had no idea what his face was expressing, only that he was sitting there as if frozen to the spot. There was a whimpering sound. It came from May Smith. She was leaning sideways slightly in her chair.

‘Let go of her.’

Katrine turned towards the gruff voice. It was Truls Berntsen. He had stood up from his chair in the back row and was walking down the steps.

‘Stop, Berntsen,’ Smith screamed. ‘Or I’ll shoot her and then you!’

But Truls Berntsen didn’t stop. In profile his jaw looked even heavier than usual, but his new muscles were also visible under his thick sweater. He reached the front, turned and walked along the front row, straight towards Smith and Ulla Bellman.

‘One step closer—’

‘Shoot me first, Smith, otherwise you won’t have time.’

‘As you wish.’

Berntsen snorted. ‘You fucking civilian, you wouldn’t d—’

Katrine felt sudden pressure against her ears, as if she were sitting in a plane that was rapidly losing altitude. It took a moment for her to realise that it was the blast from the heavy revolver.

Truls Berntsen had stopped and was standing there, swaying. His mouth was open, his eyes bulging. Katrine saw the hole in his sweater, waited for the blood. And then it came. It was as if Truls was making one last effort to stay upright as he looked directly at Ulla Bellman. Then he fell backwards.

Somewhere in the room a woman screamed.

‘No one move,’ Smith shouted, backing towards the exit with Ulla Bellman in front of him. ‘If I see a single one of you stand up, I’ll shoot her.’

Of course it was a bluff. And of course no one was going to take the risk that it wasn’t.

‘The keys to the Amazon,’ Harry whispered. He was still standing. He held his hand out towards Bjørn, who took a moment to react before putting the car keys in his hand.

‘Hallstein!’ Harry called, and started to move along the row. ‘Your car is parked in the university’s visitors’ car park, and right now it’s being examined by Forensics. I’ve got the keys to a car that’s parked right in front of this building, and I’m a better hostage for you.’

‘Because?’ Smith replied, still backing away.

‘Because I’ll stay calm, and because you have a conscience.’

Smith stopped. Looked thoughtfully at Harry for a few seconds.

‘Go over there and put the handcuffs on,’ he said, nodding towards the table.

Harry emerged from the row of seats, went past Truls, who was lying motionless on the floor, and stopped at the table with his back to Smith and the rest of the room.

‘So that I can see!’ Smith yelled.

Harry turned towards him and held his hands up so that he could see that they were held by the replica handcuffs with the chain between them.

‘Come here!’

Harry walked towards him.

‘One minute!’

Katrine saw Smith use his free hand to grab Harry, who was taller, by his shoulder, then turn him round and steer him out through the door, which he left ajar.

Ulla Bellman looked at the half-open door before she turned to her husband. Katrine saw Bellman beckon her to him. And Ulla started to walk towards him. With short, unsteady steps, as if she was walking on thin ice. But when she reached Truls Berntsen she sank to her knees. She rested her head against his bloody sweater. And in the silence of the auditorium the single painful sob that Ulla emitted sounded louder than the blast of the revolver.

Harry felt the barrel of the revolver against his back as he walked ahead of Smith. Damn, damn! He had been planning this in detail since yesterday, thinking through different scenarios, but he hadn’t seen this coming.

Harry shoved the door open, and the cold March air hit him in the face. Universitetsplassen was deserted, bathing in winter sunshine in front of them. The black paint of Bjørn’s Volvo Amazon glinted in the light.

‘Walk!’

Harry went down the steps out onto the open ground. With his second step his feet vanished from under him and he fell sideways without being able to brace his fall. Pain shot down his arm and back as his shoulder struck the icy ground.

‘Up!’ Smith hissed, grabbing the chain of the handcuffs and dragging him to his feet.

Harry used the momentum Smith had given him, aware that he was unlikely to get a better chance. He thrust his head forward as soon as he was standing, and headbutted Smith, who stumbled, took two steps back and fell down. Harry took a step closer to follow through, but Smith was lying on his back with both hands clutching the revolver, which was pointing straight at Harry.