Sohlberg and the Gift Read Online Free PDF Page B

Killing is no small thing.
     
    I guess not.
     
    Killing is the ultimate. It’s the absolute greatest thing that a man or a woman can do with his or her life. Killing is the highpoint of my life. Killing ought to be the highpoint in the life of every man. Ain’t nothing like it. It’s so freaking powerful. Beyond powerful. Killing is the greatest thing a man will ever do because death is the greatest thing a man will ever encounter. You ever think about that.
     
    Ask me if I care. Not at all. Who cares what killing could be or should be or might be.
     
    Don’t you mock me. You listen good because death is the most important thing in life. If you don’t think death is important then maybe you can die right now. Tell me if you care to die right now.
     
    No I don’t.
     
    Then you listen real good. Death is so powerful that life can’t fight it and win. That’s why the dead don’t come back here on earth. Death is my old friend. A good friend. Loyal. Dependable. Always there when I need him. You’ll see Death when you catch up with your lady. I wish I was there and see you kill her. The hair will stand on her skin just a few seconds before the falcon comes to take her away.
     
    You should know.
     
    They always know when death is coming. Always. Everyone does. Say you walk down a dark and lonely street and my knife comes out for you. Say you are sitting in some faraway war and a bullet or bomb is coming for you. Say you got a clot coming into your heart or lungs or brain. Even if you don’t see it coming the hair will stand on your skin just a few seconds before the falcon takes your soul.
     
    I don’t care what happens afterwards. That ain’t my business.
     
    The Falconer smiled. It will be your business. This here ain’t all there is.
     
    You know.
     
    I sure do. You know I do.
     
    He shrugged and looked out at the field and pretended he didn’t care about what happens After Death. But may be just may be the Falconer did know. The killer next door. He has to know.
     
     
     
    ~ ~ ~
     
     
     
    The morning went by quickly as Sohlberg finished reviewing sundry paperwork for an upcoming trial in mid-January. The only other detective in the department had left in a hurry at 10 A.M. to pick up a suspect: a man who had just slashed his wife’s throat because she had served him undercooked scrambled eggs.
     
    The call on Sohlberg’s private cell phone came in shortly after two o’clock. He looked at the caller’s number and smiled.
     
    “Hei.”
     
    “I’m about to take the tram. See you there in a few minutes.”
     
    “You’ll be alone?”
     
    “Yes. Of course.”
     
    “Good. Thank you.”
     
    “How’s The Zoo today?”
     
     
     
    ~ ~ ~
     
     
     
    The Zoo. No one knows who came up with that nickname for Oslo’s Grønland police station. The nickname appeared in the early 1980s when the Prime Minister appointed one disastrous and incompetent political hack after the other to serve as the Minister of Justice and the Police.
     
    The first political hack was a beautiful if not exquisite female appointee whose hideous personality and corrupt administration earned her the nickname wildebeest.
     
    Nicknames proliferated. Specific types of job positions received the appropriate nickname. Jailers became zookeepers . Detectives became animal handlers and then just handlers . Administrators became animal feeders and eventually feeders .
     
    Soon almost everyone had a nickname if they worked at the Zoo.
     
    One hapless politiinspektør was known as Kalashnikov because he stuttered like a machine gun.
     
    Chief Inspector Bjørn Nygård had been Dumbo because of his large elephant ears.
     
    Ivar Thorsen was The Janitor or The Mop because his mother had worked as a maid.
     
    Sohlberg was Chile Verde because of his hot temper which he was usually able to control and cloak under a meek and mild exterior.
     
    One Police Commissioner and Chief of the Oslo Police District was known as Scarlett