Jo Nesbo - The Son

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Epub ISBN: 9781448161102

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Published by Harvill Secker 2014

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Copyright Jo Nesbo 2014

English translation copyright Charlotte Barslund 2014

Map in endpapers Mike Hall 2014

Jo Nesbo has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work

First published with the title Snnen in 2014

by H. Aschehoug & Co. (W. Nygaard), Oslo

First published in Great Britain in 2014 by

H ARVILL S ECKER

Random House

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London SW1V 2SA

Suzanne (Leonard Cohen) 1966 Leonard Cohen Stranger Music Inc., USA assigned to TRO Essex Music Limited, London SW10 0SZ International Copyright Secured. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 9781846557392

Sonny is a model prisoner

He listens to the confessions of other inmates at Oslo jail, and absolves them of their sins. Some people even whisper that Sonny is serving time for someone else: that he doesnt just listen, he confesses to their crimes.

Inspector Simon Kefas is a dedicated police officer

Simon has worked for the Oslo police force for years. Hes just been assigned a new murder investigation and a new partner, all on the same day.

Both of them knew Sonnys father

To Sonny he was the man he idolised, to Simon he was his best friend. Both were left devastated when his corruption was revealed.

But neither of them knew the truth

The Harry Hole series

The Bat

Cockroaches

The Redbreast

Nemesis

The Devils Star

The Redeemer

The Snowman

The Leopard

Phantom

Police

Headhunters

And he will come again to judge the living and the dead

Jo Nesbo is a musician, songwriter, economist and prize-winning author. The Bat, his first crime novel, was published in Norway in 1997 and was an instant hit. His bestselling Harry Hole series has been a huge success in the UK and across the world, while his standalone crime novel, Headhunters, was made into an award-winning film.

www.jonesbo.co.uk

Charlotte Barslund is a translator of Scandinavian plays and novels. Her translation of Calling Out For You by Karin Fossum was nominated for the Crime Writers Association Gold Dagger award, while her translation of I CursetheRiver of Time by Per Petterson was shortlisted for the Independent Foreign Fiction award.

ROVER KEPT HIS eyes on the white-painted concrete floor in the eleven-square-metre prison cell. He bit down on the slightly too long gold front tooth in his lower jaw. He had reached the hardest part of his confession. The only sound in the cell was his nails scratching the madonna tattoo on his forearm. The boy sitting cross-legged on the bed opposite him had remained silent ever since Rover had entered. He had merely nodded and smiled his blissful Buddha smile, his gaze fixed at a point on Rovers forehead. People called the boy Sonny and said that he had killed two people as a teenager, that his father had been a corrupt police officer and that Sonny had healing hands. It was hard to see if the boy was listening, his green eyes and most of his face were hidden behind his long, matted hair, but that didnt matter. Rover just wanted his sins forgiven and to receive Sonnys distinctive blessing so that tomorrow he could walk out of Staten Maximum Security Prison with the feeling of being a truly cleansed man. Not that Rover was religious, but it could do no harm when he intended to change, to give going straight a real try. Rover took a deep breath.

I think she was from Belarus. Minsk is in Belarus, innit? Rover looked up quickly, but the boy made no reply. Nestor had nicknamed her Minsk, Rover said. He told me to shoot her.

The obvious advantage of confessing to someone whose brain was fried was that no name and incident would stick; it was like talking to yourself. This might explain why inmates at Staten preferred this guy to the chaplain or the psychologist.

Nestor kept her and eight other girls in a cage down in Enerhaugen. East Europeans and Asians. Young. Teenagers. At least I hope they were as old as that. But Minsk was older. Stronger. She escaped. Got as far as Tyen Park before Nestors dog caught her. One of those Argentine mastiffs know what Im talking about?

The boys eyes never moved, but he raised his hand. Found his beard. He started to comb it slowly with his fingers. The sleeve of his filthy, oversized shirt slipped down and revealed scabs and needle marks. Rover went on.

Bloody big albino dogs. Kills anything its owner points at. And quite a lot he doesnt. Banned in Norway, course. A guy out in Rlengen got some from the Czech Republic, breeds them and registers them as white boxers. Me and Nestor went there to buy one when it was a pup. It cost more than fifty grand in cash. The puppy was so cute you wouldnt ever think it... Rover stopped. He knew he was only talking about the dog to put off the inevitable. Anyway...

Anyway. Rover looked at the tattoo on his other forearm. A cathedral with two spires. One for each sentence he had served, neither of which had anything to do with todays confession. He used to supply guns to a biker gang and modify some of them in his workshop. He was good at it. Too good. So good that he couldnt remain below the radar forever and he was caught. And so good that, while serving his first sentence, Nestor had taken him under his wing. Nestor had made sure he owned him so that from then on only Nestor would get his hands on the best guns, rather than the biker gang or any other rivals. He had paid him more for a few months work than Rover could ever hope to earn in a lifetime in his workshop fixing motorbikes. But Nestor had demanded a lot in return. Too much.

She was lying in the bushes, blood everywhere. She just lay there, dead still, staring up at us. The dog had taken a chunk out of her face you could see straight to the teeth. Rover grimaced. Get to the point. Nestor said it was time to teach them a lesson, show the other girls what would happen to them. And that Minsk was worthless to him now anyway, given the state of her face... Rover swallowed. So he told me to do it. Finish her off. Thats how Id prove my loyalty, you see. I had an old Ruger MK II pistol that Id done some work on. And I was going to do it. I really was. That wasnt the problem...