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Harry Hole Oslo Sequence 10 - Police

Harry Hole Oslo Sequence 10 - Police

Titel: Harry Hole Oslo Sequence 10 - Police Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Jo Nesbo
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snuff a Russian?’
    ‘So what do I do? Do I arrest the man and go down with him? In which case Rakel has no husband and Oleg no father?’
    ‘Quite agree.’
    ‘Quite agree with what?’
    ‘Quite agree that you should use them as a front. Very smart to have that kind of philanthropic pretext up your sleeve. You sleep a lot better then. I’ve always gone in for that. Do you remember when we were apple scrumping and I legged it and left Tresko to face the music? Of course he couldn’t run that fast with all the weight and the clogs. I told myself that Tresko needed a thrashing more than me, to stiffen his spine, morally speaking, to point him in the right direction. Because that was where he really wanted to go, privet-hedge country, wasn’t it? While I wanted to be a bandit, didn’t I? What good was a flogging to me for a few lousy apples?’
    ‘I’m not going to let other people take the rap here, Øystein.’
    ‘But what if this guy snuffs a few more cops and you know you could have stopped him?’
    ‘That’s the point,’ Harry said, blowing smoke at the No Smoking sign.
    Øystein stared at his pal. ‘Don’t do it, Harry . . .’
    ‘Don’t do what?’
    ‘Don’t . . .’ Øystein lowered the window on his side and flicked out what was left of the roll-up, two centimetres of spit-stained Rizla paper. ‘I don’t want to hear about it. Just don’t do it.’
    ‘Well, the most cowardly option is to do nothing. To tell myself I have no absolute proof, which is true by the way. To turn a blind eye. But can a man live with that, Øystein?’
    ‘Certainly bloody can. But you’re a bit of a weirdo in that regard, Harry. Can you live with it?’
    ‘Not normally. But, as I said, I have other considerations now.’
    ‘Can’t other officers arrest him?’
    ‘He’s going to use everything he knows about everyone in the force to negotiate himself a reduced punishment. He’s worked as a burner and a detective and he knows all the tricks in the book. On top of that, he’ll be rescued by the Chief of Police. The two of them know too much about each other.’
    Øystein took Harry’s packet of cigarettes. ‘Do you know what, Harry? Sounds to me like you’ve come here to get my blessing for murder. Does anyone else know what you’re up to?’
    Harry shook his head. ‘Not even my team of detectives.’
    Øystein took out a cigarette and lit it with his lighter.
    ‘Harry.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘You’re the fucking lonesomest guy I know.’
    Harry looked at his watch, midnight soon, peered through the windscreen. ‘Loneliest, I think the word is.’
    ‘No. Lonesomest. It’s your choice. And you’re weird.’
    ‘Anyway,’ Harry said, opening the door, ‘thanks for your advice.’
    ‘What advice?’
    The door slammed.
    ‘What fucking advice?’ Øystein shouted to the door and the hunched figure heading into the Oslo murk. ‘And what about a taxi home, you stingy bastard?’
    The house was dark and still.
    Harry sat on the sofa staring at the cupboard.
    He hadn’t said anything about his suspicions regarding Truls Berntsen.
    He had rung Bjørn and Katrine and said he’d had a brief conversation with Mikael Bellman. And that as the Police Chief had an alibi for the night of the murder, there had to be a mistake or the evidence had been planted, so they would keep quiet about the bullet in the evidence box matching Bellman’s gun. Not a word about what they had discussed.
    Not a word about Truls Berntsen.
    Not a word about what had to be done.
    This was how it had to be; it was the kind of case where you had to be alone.
    The key was hidden on the CD shelf.
    Harry closed his eyes. Tried to give himself a break, tried not to listen to the dialogue churning round and round in his head. But it was no good; the voices began to scream as soon as he relaxed. Truls Berntsen was crazy, they said. This was not an assumption, it was a fact. No sane person would embark on a killing spree targeting their own colleagues.
    It was not without parallels; you just had to look at all the incidents in America, where someone who had been fired or humiliated in some other way returned to their place of work and shot their colleagues. Omar Thornton killed eight of them at a distribution warehouse after being let go for stealing beer; Wesley Neal Higdon killed five after being told off by his boss; Jennifer San Marco fired six fatal shots into the heads of colleagues at the post office after she had been dismissed for

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