The Redeemer

by Jo Nesbø

There was something in his eyes, something black and playful, which she wanted and yet did not want to investigate further.

He was mad! And she was … well, what was she? Mad, too. Mad. And in love?

People slept on the métro; they always did. On weekdays in particular. Switched off, closed their eyes and let the daily journey become a dreamless interval of nothing between the red or the blue lines on the métro map, as a mute connecting line between work and freedom.

Is there a right way to formulate the impossible?

Then there was one of those strange moments of sudden total silence when the wind catches its breath to listen or change its mind and all that is heard is the reassuring rumble of the town in the winter darkness.

My life requires an appropriate measure of truth and an appropriate measure of lies to find its equilibrium.

Martine preferred the truth. Even when it hurt. Not because of her upbringing, but because she had discovered it made life easier in the long run.

‘I have problems with a religion which says that faith in itself is enough for a ticket to heaven. In other words, that the ideal is your ability to manipulate your own common sense to accept something your intellect rejects. It’s the same model of intellectual submission that dictatorships have used throughout time, the concept of a higher reasoning without any obligation to discharge the burden of proof.’

it was a look that could read whatever she thought before she had got as far as thinking it herself. That saw her as she was. And still liked her.

I think all the systems we rely on can short-circuit and hurl us into deepest night, where laws and regulations no longer protect us, where the cold and beasts of prey rule, and everyone has to try to save their own skin.’

‘My point is that you soon become lonely if you want to use your own brain to find answers.’

Nevertheless, we are like the rest of society. Stupid, self-assured men ruling over smart women with a fear of heights.’

‘I want you. I have wanted you from the first moment I saw you.’ ‘Is that the truth?’ she said, taking his hand and laying it against a hot, flushed cheek. Harry smiled. ‘The second anyway.’ ‘The second time?’ ‘OK, the third then. All good music takes a little time.’ ‘And I’m good music?’ ‘I’m lying. It was the first time. But that doesn’t mean I’m a pushover, OK?’

‘I think you have to find something about yourself that you like in order to survive. Some people say being alone is unsociable and selfish. But you’re independent and you don’t drag others down with you, if that’s the way you’re heading. Many people are afraid of being alone. But it made me feel free, strong and invulnerable.’

“The strongest man in the world is he who stands most alone.”’

‘You think we’re programmed creatures of habit?’ She curled a finger and tickled Harry under the chin. ‘I think we throw everything into one great calculation, lust and fear and excitement and greed and all that kind of thing. And the brain is brilliant. It computes away and almost never makes a mistake; that’s why it produces the same answers every time.’

Doubt is faith’s shadow. If you are unable to doubt you can’t be a believer. It’s the same as with courage, Inspector. If you are unable to feel fear, you cannot be courageous.’

There was only one thing emptier than having lived without love, and that was having lived without pain.

‘It’s chance and nuances that separate the hero from the villain. That’s how it’s always been. Righteousness is the virtue of the lazy and the visionless.