Jo Nesbo - The Thirst

‘But do you think she’d reach beyond the screen? In footage from press conferences she seems a bit …’

‘Grey? Yes, but she can look great when she wants to. Some of the guys in the newsroom think she’s the hottest thing they’ve got over in Police HQ. But she’s one of those women who suppress it and would rather look professional.’

‘I can feel myself starting to hate her already. What about Hallstein Smith?’

‘Now he’s got the potential to be one of your regulars. He’s eccentric enough, indiscreet enough, but smart with it. Run with that one.’

‘OK, thanks. Sisters are doing it for themselves, right?’

‘Aren’t we a bit past saying stuff like that?’

‘Yeah, but these days it’s ironic.’

‘Right. Ha ha.’

‘Ha ha yourself. How about you?’

‘What?’

‘He’s still out there.’

‘I know.’

‘I mean, literally. It’s not that far from Hovseter to Frognerparken.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Shit, haven’t you heard? He’s struck again.’

‘Fuck!’ Mona yelled, and from the corner of her eye saw the guy in reception look up. ‘My bastard head of news said he’d call me. He’s given it to someone else. Bye, Nora.’

Mona went to the locker room, stuffed her clothes in her bag, then ran down the steps and onto the street. She carried on towards the VG building as she looked for a free taxi on the road. She was lucky and got hold of one at a red light. She threw herself into the back seat and pulled out her phone. Brought up Truls Berntsen’s number. After just two rings she heard his weird, grunting laugh.

‘What?’ she said.

‘I was wondering how long it would take you,’ Truls Berntsen said.

SATURDAY NIGHT

‘SHE’D LOST OVER a litre and a half of blood by the time they got her down,’ the doctor said as he walked along the corridor in Ullevål Hospital with Harry and Katrine. ‘If the bite had hit the artery higher up in her thigh, where it’s thicker, we wouldn’t have been able to save her life. We wouldn’t usually let a patient in her condition be questioned by the police, but seeing as other people’s lives are at risk …’

‘Thanks,’ Katrine said. ‘We won’t ask more than we absolutely have to.’

The doctor opened the door and he and Harry waited outside while Katrine went over to the bed and the nurse who was sitting beside it.

‘It’s pretty impressive,’ the doctor said. ‘Don’t you think, Harry?’

Harry turned towards him and raised an eyebrow.

‘You don’t mind me using your first name, do you?’ the doctor said. ‘Oslo’s a small city, and seeing as I’m your wife’s doctor.’

‘Really? I didn’t know her appointment was here.’

‘I only realised when she filled in one of our forms and I saw she’d put your name as next of kin. And of course I remember the name from the papers.’

‘You’ve got a good memory …’ Harry said, and looked at the name badge on the white coat. ‘… Senior Consultant John D. Steffens. Because it’s been a long while since they printed my name. What is it you think is impressive?’

‘That a human being can bite through a woman’s thigh like that. A lot of people think modern man has weak jaws, but in comparison with most mammals we’ve got a fairly sharp bite. Did you know that?’

‘No.’

‘How hard do you think we bite, Harry?’

Harry realised after a few seconds that Steffens really was expecting an answer. ‘Well, our criminal forensics experts say seventy kilos.’

‘Well, then – you already know the answer.’

Harry shrugged. ‘The number doesn’t mean anything to me. If I’d been told 150, I wouldn’t have been any more or less impressed. Speaking of numbers, how do you know that Penelope Rasch lost a litre and a half? I didn’t think pulse and blood pressure were such accurate indicators?’

‘I was sent pictures from the crime scene,’ Steffens said. ‘I buy and sell blood, so I’ve got a pretty accurate eye.’

Harry was about to ask him to elaborate, but at that moment Katrine waved him over.

Harry went in and stood beside Katrine. Penelope Rasch’s face was as white as the pillowcase that framed it. Her eyes were open but her gaze was clouded.

‘We won’t trouble you for long, Penelope,’ Katrine said. ‘We’ve spoken to the policeman who talked to you at the scene, so we know that you met the assailant in the city just before, that he attacked you in the stairwell and that he used metal teeth to bite you. But can you tell us anything about who he is? Did he give you any other name apart from Vidar? Did he say where he lives, where he works?’

‘Vidar Hansen. I didn’t ask where he lives,’ she said. Her voice made Harry think of fragile porcelain. ‘He said he’s an artist, but works as a caretaker.’

‘Did you believe him?’

‘I don’t know. He could well have been a guard. Someone who has access to keys, anyway, because he’d been inside my flat.’

‘Oh?’

With what looked like a great effort, she pulled her left hand out from under the covers and held it up. ‘The engagement ring I got from Roar. He took it from the drawer in my bedroom.’

Katrine stared sceptically at the matt gold ring. ‘You mean … he put it on you in the stairwell?’

Penelope nodded and closed her eyes tightly again. ‘And the last thing he said …’

‘Yes?’

‘Was that he wasn’t like other men, that he’d come back and marry me.’ She let out a sob.

Harry could see that Katrine was shaken, but still focused.

‘What does he look like, Penelope?’

Penelope opened her mouth, then closed it again. Stared at them in despair. ‘I don’t remember. I … I must have forgotten. How can …?’ She bit her bottom lip and tears welled up in her eyes.

‘It’s OK,’ Katrine said. ‘It’s not unusual in your situation, you’ll be able to remember more later. Do you remember what he was wearing?’

‘A suit. And a shirt. He unbuttoned it. He had …’ She stopped.

‘Yes?’

‘A tattoo on his chest.’

Harry saw Katrine gasp. ‘What sort of tattoo, Penelope?’ He said.

‘A face.’

‘Like a demon that’s trying to get out?’

Penelope nodded. A single tear ran down her cheek. As if she didn’t have enough liquid inside her for two, Harry thought.

‘And it was as if he …’ Penelope sobbed again. ‘As if he wanted to show it to me.’

Harry closed his eyes.

‘She needs to rest,’ the nurse said.

Katrine nodded and put her hand on Penelope’s milk-white arm. ‘Thank you, Penelope, you’ve been a great help.’

Harry and Katrine were on their way out when the nurse called them back. They returned to the bed.

‘I do remember one more thing,’ Penelope whispered. ‘He looked like he’d had his face operated on. And I can’t help wondering …’

‘What?’ Katrine said, leaning in to hear the barely audible voice.

‘Why didn’t he kill me?’

Katrine looked at Harry for help. He took a deep breath, nodded to her and leaned closer to Penelope.

‘Because he couldn’t,’ he said. ‘Because you didn’t let him.’

‘Well, now we know for sure that it’s him,’ Katrine said as they walked along the corridor towards the exit.

‘Mm. And he’s changed his MO. And his preferences.’

‘How does that make you feel?’

‘That it’s him?’ Harry shrugged. ‘No feelings. He’s a murderer, and he needs to be caught. Full stop.’

‘Don’t lie, Harry. Not to me. He’s the reason you’re here.’

‘Because he might take more lives. Catching him is important, but it isn’t personal. OK?’