The Leopard by Jo Nesbø Read Free Book Online

anything?’
    ‘No.’ She laughed. ‘OK then, I have. But if they’re so good, they should have seen that you’re also a policeman. And let you through.’
    ‘They did see.’
    ‘Come on. That only happens in films.’
    ‘They saw alright. They saw a fallen policeman.’
    ‘Oh yes?’ said Kaja.
    Harry rummaged for his pack of cigarettes. ‘Let your eyes drift over to the taxi counter. There’s a man with narrow eyes, a bit slanted. See him?’
    She nodded.
    ‘He’s tugged at his belt twice since we came out. As if there was something heavy hanging from it. A pair of handcuffs or a truncheon. An automatic reaction if you’ve been in patrol cars or in the custody block for a few years.’
    ‘I’ve worked in patrol cars, and I’ve never –’
    ‘He’s working for Narc now and keeps an eye open for people who look a bit too relieved after passing through customs. Or go straight to the toilet because they can’t stand having the goods up their rectum any longer. Or suitcases that change hands between a naive, helpful passenger and the smuggler who got the idiot to carry the luggage containing all the dope through customs.’
    She tilted her head and squinted at Harry with a little smile playing on her lips. ‘Or he might be a normal guy whose pants keep slipping down, and he’s waiting for his mother. And you’re mistaken.’
    ‘Certainly,’ said Harry, looking at his watch and the clock on the wall. ‘I’m always making mistakes. Is that really the time?’
    The Volvo Amazon glided onto the motorway as the street lights came on.
    In the front seats Holm and Solness were deep in conversation as Townes van Zandt sang in controlled sobs on the cassette player. On the back seat, Gunnar Hagen was stroking the smooth pig-leather briefcase he was holding on his lap.
    ‘I wish I could say you looked good,’ he said in a low voice.
    ‘Jet lag, boss,’ Harry said, who was lying more than sitting.
    ‘What happened to your jaw?’
    ‘It’s a long, boring story.’
    ‘Anyway, welcome back. Sorry about the circumstances.’
    ‘I thought I had handed in my resignation.’
    ‘You’ve done that before.’
    ‘So how many times do you want it?’
    Gunnar Hagen looked at his former inspector and lowered his eyebrows and voice even further. ‘As I said, I’m sorry about the circumstances. And I appreciate that the last case took a lot out of you. That you and your loved ones were involved in a way which … well, could make anyone wish for a different life. But this is your job, Harry, this is what you’re good at.’
    Harry sniffed as though he had already contracted the typical homecoming cold.
    ‘Two murders, Harry. We’re not even sure how they’ve been carried out, only that they’re identical. But thanks to recent dearly bought experiences, we know what we’re facing.’ The POB paused.
    ‘Doesn’t hurt to say the words, boss.’
    ‘I’m not so sure about that.’
    Harry looked out at the snow-free, rolling, brown countryside. ‘People have cried wolf a number of times, but events have shown that a serial killer is a rare beast.’
    ‘I know,’ Hagen nodded. ‘The Snowman is the only one we’ve seen in this country during my period of office. But we’re pretty certain this time. The victims have nothing to do with each other, and the sedative found in their blood is identical.’
    ‘That’s something. Good luck.’
    ‘Harry . . .’
    ‘Find someone qualified for the job, boss.’
    ‘ You’re qualified.’
    ‘I’ve gone to pieces.’
    Hagen took a deep breath. ‘Then we’ll put you together again.’
    ‘Beyond repair,’ Harry said.
    ‘You’re the only person in this country with the skills and the experience to deal with a serial killer.’
    ‘Fly in an American.’
    ‘You know very well things don’t work like that.’
    ‘Then I’m sorry.’
    ‘Are you? Two people dead so far, Harry. Young women . . .’
    Harry waved a dismissive hand when Hagen opened his briefcase