Part 6 (1/2)

'The man they killed in my flat was doing business with Russia. The Americans shot him in the head. When he came to the ministry he was ranting about a conspiracy against him. His killers mentioned a conspiracy too. I don't know what to believe. I've got to find out what happened to Elias. I tried to phone the rescue service but they didn't answer and then these Jehovah's Witnesses turned up.'

'Jehovah's Witnesses?'

'The men who tried to kill me. There were two of them, dressed like Jehovah's Witnesses you know, dark suits and ties, neat hair, like the Jehovah's Witnesses who go from door to door with pamphlets. That's why I opened the door. I thought they were Jehovah's Witnesses. I'm such a fool!'

'Okay, it's okay,' Steve said soothingly, aware that none of this was okay. 'What the h.e.l.l have you been doing at the ministry that could lead to this?'

'Nothing. Just my job. I haven't done anything. It's not my fault. I've done nothing to cause any of this. Nor has Elias.'

'No, of course not. But it sounds like two completely unrelated matters. American soldiers on Vatnajokull on the one hand, and a conspiracy linked to doing business with Russia on the other.'

Kristin took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. Her cheeks were streaked with mascara. 'I know. I can't make any sense of it.'

She was calmer now. Steve was glad to have dispelled the tension inside her by accepting what she said without casting doubt on her bizarre story. Whatever her real state of mind, she was at her wits' end and it would be wrong to argue with anything she said. Her sobs gradually subsided and she was able to speak with more composure.

'Can you check this stuff about soldiers on the glacier for me? Ask around? Talk to people?' she asked.

'I'll see what I can do,' Steve replied. 'What exactly did your brother say?'

'That there was a plane in the ice and soldiers on the glacier.'

'Did he say ”in the ice”? Doesn't that strike you as odd?' the ice”? Doesn't that strike you as odd?'

'What?'

'As if it was buried in the ice. Is that what he said?'

'In the ice, on the ice what the h.e.l.l's the difference? He mentioned a plane and soldiers.'

'Is it possible that there's a plane in the ice?'

'For Christ's sake, Steve, I can't remember if he said in in the ice or the ice or on on the ice. It doesn't matter. I just need to know what's happening up there.' the ice. It doesn't matter. I just need to know what's happening up there.'

Steve nodded. He had been stationed on the base for three years, employed by the press office to liaise with those Icelandic government ministries that dealt with the US military, chiefly the foreign ministry. He lived alone; he and his wife had divorced back in America. Of Irish extraction, he was dark, with an unruly mane of black hair. Although a few years older than Kristin at thirty-five, he was about her height, lean and strongly built. He used to make her laugh. They had met in an official capacity and eventually he had willed himself to ask her out to dinner.

On their first couple of dates at restaurants in Reykjavik, he had told her all about himself and his family. His people had always been in retailing but, having not the slightest interest in business, he had broken the mould by studying politics at university, followed by a stint working for the US defense department. But his real love was travelling, so when the opportunity to work in Iceland came up, he seized it.

For their third date he had invited her to the officers' mess at the base, followed by a drink at his place. Once they got back to his apartment he had been considerate but her confidence had evaporated without warning and she had panicked, unable to face the prospect of getting into bed with an American on the base. The stories about Icelandic women and GIs were ugly: 'Yankee wh.o.r.es' they called them. The public had always taken a harsh view of Icelandic women who got involved with American servicemen, a throwback to the Second World War when the girls had welcomed the first foreign soldiers to arrive on these sh.o.r.es, seeing them as an escape route to a brighter future, a new life overseas, or else admiring their uniforms and foreign manners, so familiar from the movies, and seeing them as providers of cigarettes, nylons and good times. 'The situation', as it was known, was a source of shame in Iceland and women who slept with the army were branded as s.l.u.ts, an att.i.tude Kristin felt had changed little over the years.

When she tried to explain, however, he was hurt that she saw him in those terms, so she left and after that they gradually saw less and less of each other until their relations.h.i.+p simply petered out. It was a senseless, silent drawing away from each other; they had not spoken for six months but had never really ended it definitively.

'Why don't we start by calling the rescue service?' he suggested in an attempt to placate her. 'Find out about your brother.'

He stood up, found the number and rang it. No one answered. He tried another number; no answer there either. He tried the third number, then beckoned her over to take the phone: someone had answered at last. She sprang up.

'My name's Kristin,' she said, 'is that the Reykjavik Air Ground Rescue Team?'

'Yes.'

'How can I get hold of your team on Vatnajokull?'

'We have several contact numbers for mobile phones and walkie-talkies. Can I help at all?'

'Has there been an accident on the glacier? Is anyone missing?'

'May I ask who you are?'

'Kristin. My brother's with the team. Elias.'

'I'll put you through to the leader of the team on Vatnajokull. Please hold the line.'

Kristin waited. She watched Steve pacing back and forth in his small living room; stared unseeingly at James Dean in the New York rain, at the face of revolution.

'h.e.l.lo,' she heard a voice say at the other end. 'Is that Kristin? This is Julius. I'm in charge of the team here on Vatnajokull. Can you hear me okay?'

'Loud and clear,' Kristin said hurriedly. 'Is Elias with you? Is he all right?'

'I'm afraid Elias is missing.'

'He's missing? How come? Where is he?'

'He and Johann left camp about seven hours ago and haven't returned yet. But we've traced a signal from Elias's phone and expect to find them as soon as it gets light. They may have got lost it's very dark here. But I can't rule out the possibility that they've had an accident. Elias has plenty of experience on glaciers though, so there's no need to panic.'

'Have you noticed any soldiers in the area?' Kristin asked.

'Soldiers? No. What do you mean, soldiers?'

'Elias phoned me from the glacier and said there were soldiers coming towards him.'

'When did Elias call you?'

'It must have been about three or four hours ago. We were cut off seconds after he saw the soldiers.'

'No, we haven't noticed any movements up here. The boys were test-driving our new snowmobiles and could have covered quite a distance in that time, but there's no one around except us.'

'Didn't they give you any idea of where they were going? Do you think Elias could be in danger?'

'They didn't, and I can't imagine so, not unless he's travelling in the dark. There's a large belt of creva.s.ses several hours to the west of us, but he's careful, and so's Johann. I expect they've stopped somewhere and their phone's out of range. If they stay where they are, we'll find them quickly once it gets light. What on earth made you call about Elias? Did you have some kind of premonition?'

'I was informed that Elias was dead,' Kristin said, 'and that it was connected somehow to the soldiers he saw on the glacier.'

'Elias isn't dead. He's missing but he's alive.'

'Kristin.' Steve was looking out of the living room window, the curtain pushed to one side. He was staring down at the car park in front of the building.

'Can I get hold of you on this number later?' Kristin asked, ignoring Steve.

'Who told you Elias was dead? Who would do a thing like that?'