by Jo Nesbo
There was a glint of steel as Kevin swung his hand in a low arc, caught Dumbo in the stomach and pulled the blade towards him. Dumbo doubled over. Both hands went to his stomach and I could see the blood running between the stubby fingers. Kevin grabbed hold of Dumbo’s hair and pulled his head back, exposing the throat and cutting it with a sideways, arcing slash. Blood sprayed and splashed across the floor and Dumbo tumbled forward. Two wardens stormed in and Kevin dropped his weapon. It looked like a flattened piece of metal. He put up his hands in a show of surrender. Two guards pinned Kevin to the floor while a third came running in and pressed a hand against the gaping wound in Dumbo’s neck. The pressure in the fountain of blood was gone and now it was just pumping weakly.
Dumbo’s eyes were looking in my direction but they were glazed over. Of course I knew that with all the blood on the floor, blood that should have been circulating through his brain, he had to be unconscious already but I did it anyway. I picked up the receiver, put my other hand against the glass wall and said: ‘It’ll be all right. Just look at me, Dumbo. It’ll be all right.’
Then it was as though another layer folded itself over the glassy stare, and I knew he was dead.
* * *
—
I had just arrived in the waiting room attached to the visiting room, taken a seat and was waiting to meet Gabriel ‘Dumbo’ Norton. Earlier in the day I had seen the mugshot and was able to confirm what I suspected, that it was the same boy who I had seen on the steps outside our house. Who had helped to tie me up. Who had…
I knew I mustn’t think about that other thing, not if I was to be able to do what I intended to and establish a relationship with the boy that was based on sympathy and understanding and the sort of humanity and mercy I would need to discover for the most difficult thing of all – forgiveness.
I hadn’t been told who the visitor before me was but I knew at least that it wasn’t his defence lawyer – they didn’t use the visiting room.
Suddenly from the other side of the door I heard screams, shouting and the scraping of chair legs.
The guard in the waiting room put his eye to a peephole and then checked that the door was locked.
‘What’s happened?’ I asked.
‘A stabbing,’ he said without turning round.
A minute later he unlocked the door and the five visitors came out. They looked pale and shaken, but it was clearly not one of them who had been attacked.
One was crying. Or rather, there was no sound, but the tears streamed down her face. Maybe they blinded her so that she didn’t recognise me.
I quickly joined the dots and a clear picture emerged.
I followed her.
She didn’t notice me until we were out in the street and she was sitting astride her motorcycle. I stood directly in front of her.
‘Is Dumbo dead?’ I asked.
I saw how she automatically reached for something in a pannier on the bike, a weapon maybe, but it wasn’t there.
‘Was it you who killed him?’ I asked.
* * *
—
I stared at him. Because it really was him, Amy’s father, I saw that now. Was he asking if it was me who killed Dumbo?
‘No,’ I said, and I had no control at all over my voice. ‘But maybe you did.’
‘Then I would have been better off letting that shaven-headed guy with the laser rifle shoot the two of you up at the villa.’
I didn’t know what to say. Or do. Because yes, I had wondered if it was his voice I’d heard when someone stopped the guy with the laser sight on his rifle from shooting. Shouting that they weren’t murderers and – unless I saw wrong – pointing his own gun at the guy.
‘So then who was it?’ he asked.
‘Dunno,’ I said and started the engine.
‘But you know it wasn’t Dumbo who killed my daughter.’
What the hell was I supposed to say? Dumbo was dead, there was no one left to save any more. No one but myself.
‘I don’t know anything,’ I said and revved the engine. He still kept standing there, the straight idiot.
‘You know it was Brad,’ he said. He rested both hands on my handlebars and stared at me, eyes burning like he was on speed.
I didn’t answer.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘You aren’t like them.’
‘Like who?’
‘Like those others in the gang. Chaos. You want something more than that, don’t you?’
‘I want my Remington rifle back,’ I said. ‘Apart from that I don’t give a fuck about anything. Get out of the way, mister.’
‘I’m living in the villa. If you want justice like me then come and talk to me. I think maybe we can help each other.’
I slipped the clutch and he jumped out of the way. Accelerated away. The exhaust popping and banging from the bullet-holes from when the O’Leary twins peppered the bike. I rode so fast I could feel the tears streaming horizontally into my helmet and across my temples.
It was Ragnar. I knew it was Ragnar, he was the only one who could get Kevin to do something like that. The only question was how did Ragnar know I was going to get Dumbo to withdraw his confession? I mean, it really wasn’t all that fucking complicated.
The connection became even clearer when I got home and saw the ambulance parked in the street. Part of me was surprised because you so rarely see an ambulance these days; another part of me had been half expecting it.
I dismounted and walked over to the two men who were loading a stretcher into the back.
‘Who…’ I started to say, but they jumped in behind the stretcher, slammed the doors in my face and drove off, sirens blaring.
I turned and saw the trail of blood leading from where the ambulance had stood at the entrance to our block. I swallowed. It was my fault. My fault again.
I was the one who had given the address to Dumbo’s drunken and corrupt defence lawyer.
No, it really wasn’t all that complicated.
The street door opened and a pretty young woman came out.
‘What happened?’ I asked.
‘It was a guy with the same kind of helmet as you,’ she said.
‘Red leather jacket with a monster coming up out of the sea?’
‘Yes.’
‘And?’
‘He used a crowbar and broke into the flat at the end of our corridor.’
‘But?’
‘But when he got inside the man there had a knife and the motorbike guy had a Kalashnikov and shot him before he could use it. I spoke to his wife. She says they say he’ll survive.’
She wiped away a tear and I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.
‘I’m scared,’ she sniffled.
‘I understand, Maria.’
It was so quiet I could still hear the ambulance, the siren rising and falling as though searching for a frequency it couldn’t find.
I thought of the man. He looked like Amy, his daughter. I thought of when he sat tied up in the garage, the look on his face when he heard the screams from the house. Pain at the thought of pain in someone you love.
* * *
—
‘So it wasn’t you, it was Ragnar who arranged to have Dumbo killed?’ I say. I have to raise my voice to be heard above the sound of the approaching helicopter.
‘He didn’t tell me about it until afterwards, and as I say, I would never have allowed it. Not murder.’ Colin sighs and looks up into the sky. ‘But of course, I’m not completely guilt-free.’
‘Oh?’
‘I’d been in touch with Marvin Green, Dumbo’s defence lawyer. Good defence lawyers are in short supply now, most of them have left the city so people turn to the likes of washed-out alcoholics like Green who don’t have the money to get out. And yes, he was easy enough to turn and he didn’t ask for t
oo much. He was told not to put a great deal of effort into defending Dumbo and not to put him in the witness box in case the poor bugger got mixed up about his confession. But then Green called me and said he’d had a girl come to see him who said she could give Dumbo an alibi. I got her address.’ Colin took a deep breath. ‘You know, before they turned off the power I never realised how beautiful the night sky is above the city.’
‘Go on,’ I say.
‘So I got in touch with this Ragnar again and told him it was a condition of him getting the weapons and all the other stuff that Dumbo’s confession stood, and that Brad didn’t have to face a charge.’
‘In other words you ordered him to kill Dumbo and the girl.’
Colin shook his head. ‘It would have been enough if he’d threatened the girl to keep quiet and Dumbo had been sentenced, case closed. Instead this Ragnar decided on drastic action because – as he said afterwards – the dead don’t talk. He was pleased as punch when he came and told me what he’d done. No, he hadn’t got the girl, obviously she didn’t completely trust Green and had given him a false address. But that hardly mattered, he said, because he’d shut Dumbo up on a permanent basis, so now he couldn’t retract his confession. He couldn’t understand why I was so angry…’
‘Don’t you feel you have more than a little guilt in all this, Colin?’
He shrugs and sticks out his lower lip the way he always does when he’s pretending not to understand the obvious.
‘It wasn’t my choice. He acted on his own free will.’
‘You allowed his evil nature free play because you knew what the result would be. It was obviously you who gave him the girl’s address. That was the choice of your own free will, Colin.’
‘I thought he might have a word with her, not…’ He spread his arms out wide. ‘OK, so maybe I’m naive, but I do actually believe in people’s ability to learn. To change and choose what is good.’
‘That’s good to know,’ I say.
‘Meaning what?’
‘That you believe that free will combined with experience can turn someone who was previously bad into a person who will choose the good.’
‘Don’t you?’
‘Oh, yes,’ I say. ‘That’s why we release people from prison and hope it’s safe. So for the sake of you and your family let’s hope it is true, Colin.’
‘Now what are you talking about, Will?’
By now I’m having to shout to be heard above the helicopter. ‘I’m simply saying that your survival, like mine and like everyone else’s, is in the final analysis dependent on our ability to learn the qualities of mercy, wisdom and forgiveness. And in particular the ability of those closest to us to learn them.’
‘Amen to that!’ Colin calls to the stars and the descending helicopter as he finally raises his champagne glass.
XIV
Within twenty-four hours of my meeting Yvonne outside the prison where Dumbo had just been murdered she was standing at our door.
‘Thank you for coming,’ I said.
She muttered something uneasy in reply. I had realised some time ago that certain people, certain sections of the population, are just not used to those who go around thanking each other for things.
She told me her name as we stood in the living room, looking out at Heidi playing Hawks and Doves with Sam. Heidi put on a deep menacing voice as she advanced on him, fingers hooked like a hawk’s claws. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, all that came through the window were Sam’s squeals of delight.
‘He’s a nice boy,’ she said. ‘How…’ She didn’t finish her question.
‘He seems to have forgotten everything,’ I said. ‘Can you understand that?’
Yvonne shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but for kids most of what happens is new and dramatic, even everyday things that seem trivial to us grown-ups. For example, I don’t know if seeing someone in your family getting a beating is worse than being stung by a wasp, or your teddy bear losing an eye.’
I looked at the young woman. Something told me she was speaking from experience.
‘So then why are children traumatised by sexual assault but apparently not by circumcision?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘But I would guess pain and humiliation are easier to take if the pain feels natural and necessary in some way. People can get tortured in a meaningless war and lose their minds, but not people who have a tooth taken out without an anaesthetic. Or a woman giving birth.’
I nodded. Now Heidi had caught Sam and they laughed as they rolled around on the grass. Heidi laughing; it struck me that was a sound I hadn’t heard since that terrible night.
‘Context,’ I said.
‘Eh?’
‘I read somewhere that some people believe our minds can deal with pain better if we’re able to put it in a context that seems to us to justify it.’
Yvonne nodded. ‘Good. Then someone’s written down what I think.’
‘But…’ I said, drawing a breath and folding my hands. ‘The pain of losing Amy for me and Dumbo for you aren’t things we can place in a meaningful context. So we need to find other ways of dealing with the pain, am I right?’
‘Revenge,’ she said.
I looked down at my hands. Colin used to say I always folded them before saying something important. And that when a lawyer is about to say something important that usually means bad news.
‘That’s one way,’ I said. ‘The human appetite for revenge distinguishes us from the animals, but from an evolutionary perspective it’s still logical. If everyone knows that killing a child will lead to revenge, that will make the child’s life safer. But if there’s dispute over the question of guilt in the death of the child then any act of revenge is liable to give rise in turn to yet another act of revenge. Which in turn gives rise to yet another. It was spirals of bloodthirsty revenge like that that decimated the population of Iceland, for example. And the same thing happened in Albania. In Iceland they solved the problem by establishing a court consisting of the best minds in the community and they were charged with the task of deciding on questions of guilt or innocence, and where necessary passing sentence and carrying out the punishment. In so doing they eliminated the need for revenge. And this idea is not just the basis of the use of courts for dispensing justice but for the whole idea of societies in which the law is the same for everyone. This meant the end of a tyrannical system in which the strong were always in the right. Because when it is the state that is strongest the tyrannical and the barbarous must defer to the power of the law. Justice, common sense and humanity are the guiding principles. And that is what I want – that is why I have not executed Brad but intend to charge him in front of an independent court of law.’
* * *
—
I’m not sure I understood everything he said, but I think I got his point.
In the first place the rules of the road are for everyone who drives, and when there’s been a crash it’s not always best to leave it to the two hotheads involved to sort it out themselves.
‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘But how about when you realise the judge has been bought by the other side and that might is right after all? Should you just roll over and let it happen? Or should you stand up and fight?’
Will, as he insisted I call him, looked at me as he scratched his chin.
‘My wife and son are coming in,’ he said. ‘I think maybe it’s best if you don’t meet. Come with me.’
I followed him down into the basement. Saw he’d made quite a few changes. He took me into a room that looked like a cross between the bridge of a ship and the control room in a recording studio.
‘What do you need?’ he asked. ‘To get what you want.’
‘A weapon,’ I said.
‘A weapon?’
‘Ragnar stole my Remington rifle. But for this I’m going to need somethin
g heavy.’
Will nodded. He left the room and returned with a machine gun. He demonstrated for me how it worked. It could be used to mow down a small squad of men but was light enough for me to hold. He placed four hand grenades on the table in front of me.
‘Enough?’
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Why are you helping me? I was one of those who attacked your family.’
He looked directly at me. ‘In the first place I’m going to ask you to do something for me in return. In the second place, I know you weren’t a part of what happened when my wife…That you took Sam out of the room before…’ His voice became thick and hoarse and he blinked twice. We could hear the two of them on the floor above us. He cleared his throat.
‘And in the third place, because you remind me of Amy.’
There were tears and tenderness in his eyes and for a moment I thought he was going to stroke my hair.
‘Same fighting spirit,’ he said. ‘Same sense of justice. When my generation is dead and gone and it’s the turn of others to run the world I hope that it’s people like you who run it, Yvonne. Not people like Brad and Ragnar.’
I nodded slowly. I hadn’t done much to stop the rape, but it probably wouldn’t do any harm if he thought better of me than I deserved. ‘I’ll do the best I can, Mr Adams. What is this thing that you want me to do in return?’
Slowly and in some detail, a look of pain and despair on his face, he told me. I realised this had been a very hard decision for him to take, and that he was still torn by doubt over it. And this time it was me who wanted to stroke his hair.
‘OK,’ I said.
He looked almost surprised. ‘Yes?’
‘Yes. I’m in.’
He checked that his wife and little Sam weren’t nearby, then he followed me out to the bike.
* * *
—
‘You don’t think this is a gruesome plan?’ I asked.
‘Of course it’s gruesome,’ said Yvonne as she packed the stripped-down machine gun into the side pannier of the bike. ‘Leaving the gruesome to the gruesome.’
