The Devil's Star (Harry Hole, #5)

by Jo Nesbø

‘We’ve sold almost no tickets. Well, apart from for the opening night – for that the tickets went like hot cakes. People are so bloodthirsty, they can smell a scandal. Basically, Harry, we are entirely dependent on rave reviews to pull this one off. But right now . . .’ Wilhelm banged a fist on the white tablecloth and the coffee jumped in the air. ‘. . . I can’t think of anything less important than bloody business!’ Wilhelm stared at Harry. All the signs were that the outburst would continue when, without any prior indication, an invisible hand wiped the fury from his expression. He was dazed for a moment, as if he didn’t know where he was. Then his face fell apart and he quickly hid it in his hands. Harry saw the head waiter send them a strange, hope-filled look. ‘I apologise,’ Wilhelm mumbled from behind his fingers. ‘I don’t usually . . . I’m not asleep . . . Oh shit, I’m so theatrical!’ He sobbed, a sound that was somewhere between laughing and crying, he hit the table again with his hand and pulled a grimace which he managed to twist into a kind of desperate smirk.