Headhunters by Jo Nesbø Read Free Book Online

me for a while. Then he stroked his chin with a narrow hand. ‘I thought the original idea of a business card was that it should equip the receiver with enough information to pay a call?’
    I rummaged for my Conklin pen, wrote down the office address on the back of the card and watched it disappear into Greve’s jacket pocket.
    ‘Look forward to talking to you, Roger, but now I have to get off home and psych myself up to remonstrate with the carpenters in Polish. Say goodbye to your charming wife.’ Greve made a stiff, almost military bow, turned on his heel and went to the door.
    Diana sidled up to me as I watched him leave. ‘How did it go, darling?’
    ‘Fantastic specimen. Just look at how he walks. Feline. Perfect.’
    ‘Does that mean …?’
    ‘He even made out that he wasn’t interested in the job. My God, I want that head on my wall, stuffed and with bared teeth.’
    She clapped her hands with glee like a little girl. ‘So I was of some help? I was really of some help?’
    I stretched up and put my arms around her shoulders. The rooms were vulgarly, wonderfully packed. ‘You are hereby a certified headhunter, my little blossom. How are sales?’
    ‘We’re not selling this evening. Didn’t I say that?’
    I hoped for a second that I had misheard. ‘It’s just … an exhibition?’
    ‘Atle didn’t want to let go of any of his pictures.’ She smiled as though in apology. ‘I understand him. I suppose you wouldn’t want to lose something that was so beautiful?’
    I closed my eyes and swallowed. Thought those soft thoughts.
    ‘Do you think that was stupid, Roger?’ I heard Diana’s disconcerted voice say and myself answer: ‘Not at all.’
    Then I felt her lips against my cheek. ‘You’re so kind, my love. And we can do the selling later anyway. This projects our image and makes us exclusive. You said yourself how important that is.’
    I forced a smile. ‘Of course, darling. Exclusive is good.’
    She brightened up. ‘And do you know what? I’ve ordered a DJ for the reception! The guy in Blå who plays seventies soul you always said was the best in town …’ She clapped her hands and my smile felt as though it was detaching itself from my face, falling and smashing on the floor. But in the reflection on her raised champagne glass it was still in place. John Lennon’s G11sus4 chord rang out again and she fumbled for her phone in her trouser pocket. I studied her as she twittered away to someone enquiring about whether they could come.
    ‘Of course you can, Mia! Not at all, bring the baby with you. You can change her in my office. Of course we want children’s screams, it’ll liven things up! But you have to let me hold her, do you promise?’
    My God, how I loved the woman.
    My eyes scanned over the gathering once again. And stopped at a small pale face. It could have been her. Lotte. The same melancholy eyes that I had seen right here for the first time. It wasn’t her. All that was finished. But the image of Lotte pursued me like a stray dog for the rest of the evening.

EXPROPRIATION
     
    ‘YOU’RE LATE,’ FERDINAND said as I entered the office. ‘And hung-over.’
    ‘Feet off the table,’ I said, walking round the desk, switching on the computer and closing the blinds. The light was less invasive and I removed my sunglasses.
    ‘Does that mean that the private view was a success?’ Ferdinand nagged in that pitch that cuts straight to the brain’s pain centre.
    ‘There was dancing on the tables,’ I said, looking at my watch. Half past nine.
    ‘Why are the best parties always the ones you didn’t go to?’ Ferdinand sighed. ‘Anyone well known there?’
    ‘Anyone you know, you mean?’
    ‘Any celebs, you idiot.’ A flick through the air with a crack of the wrist. I had stopped getting annoyed at his insistence on looking like something off the stage.
    ‘Some,’ I said.
    ‘Ari Behn?’
    ‘No. You still have to meet Lander and the client here at twelve today,