Part 13 (1/2)

'That's me.'

'My name's Gunnhildur Gisladottir and I'm with the Reykjavik city police,' Gunna said. Svava wondered what had happened when Haraldur twitched with nervousness.

'I . . . er . . . what can I do for you?' he asked and Gunna immediately sensed the dread in his voice. It went deeper than that of the law-abiding citizen caught up in something beyond his understanding and told her instantly that Haraldur's conscience was troubled.

'It's to do with an investigation; your name has come up in connection with an incident at the Harbourside Hotel. You were staying there a few days ago, weren't you?'

'I was,' Haraldur replied, his voice almost a squeak as Svava stood up and silently left the room.

'I would prefer it if we could meet to discuss this. First thing tomorrow, maybe?' Gunna said in a tone of voice that made the 'maybe' redundant.

'Yes. I'll be at the office in the morning until twelve. You can find me there. Fiskitangi 42.'

'Fiskitangi? Where's that?' Gunna asked with the sinking feeling that told her the man was out of town.

'It's in Akureyri.'

'Ah, right. In that case I'll get a flight in the morning and I'll let you know when I'm on the way.'

'I could meet you at the airport if you like,' Haraldur offered.

'I'll come and find you if you don't mind. Since I have to go to Akureyri, there are a few other errands I can run at the same time,' Gunna said. 'But thanks for the offer. I'll see you in the morning.'

Haraldur sat still on the kitchen chair for a few moments after the conversation had ended. Svava deliberately shut the door behind her and turned to face him, hands on hips.

'Halli. Will you please tell me what the h.e.l.l is going on?'

'I'm not sure. First there was a policeman on the phone asking all kinds of questions about when I stayed at the Harbourside when I went to Reykjavik to meet the Daewoo guys from Denmark the other day. Now there's this policewoman who wants to come up here tomorrow and talk to me.'

'What's all this about, Halli? You've been as nervous as a cat for two days and don't you dare tell me there's nothing to worry about.'

'It might be about my wallet being stolen,' he said vaguely, picking up his plate and carefully placing it in the dishwasher. Svava's pursed lips indicated that she found his explanation wanting.

'And how did whoever stole your wallet manage to get into our account?' she demanded, her voice increasingly shrill. 'I'm telling you, Haraldur Samuelsson. We've been here before and we don't want to go there again, do we?' She stalked out of the kitchen and slammed the door so hard that the cups and gla.s.ses in the kitchen cupboards rattled in sympathy.

Agnes just looked at him as he collapsed into one of the pair of leather armchairs.

'Hard day, darling?' she asked in a slightly sardonic tone that set Joel Ingi wondering what was behind it before he noticed that her face was carefully made up and her long frame was sheathed in a startling red dress that matched her scarlet lips.

'Going out?'

'Yup.'

'Will you be back late?'

'It's Sat.u.r.day night. Of course I will.'

'All right. Have fun,' he said bleakly as she stood up. He admired her without saying anything, from the supple black leather boots that encased her calves to the dress that showed nothing but hinted at everything.

'See you later, sugar,' she said, blowing him a kiss from the door. 'Don't wait up. Bye.'

Hermann Finnsson was not happy to get a visit from the police. A heavily built, balding man with jowls that trembled as he shook his head, he radiated nerves and continually looked through the window of the living room of the overdecorated, overheated upstairs flat he occupied.

'I understand that you stayed at the Arctic Hotel last week. You live in Mosfellsbaer, so why stay in a hotel so close to home?' Gunna asked, hoping to put the man at his ease and watching his fingers tremble with nerves.

'I . . . er, I decided to stay in town that night. I'd been out with some people and didn't want to drive.'

'Really? A taxi home would have been cheaper, wouldn't it?'

'Maybe.'

'So, why stay at such an expensive hotel?'

Hermann Finnsson shrugged, lost for words. 'I don't know. Does there have to be a reason?'

It was Gunna's turn to shrug. 'Of course not. You're married, Hermann?'

'Not any more. I was, a long time ago.'

'So who did you go out with that night?'

'Some people.'

Hermann thrust his hands into the pockets of his cardigan, Gunna guessed to stop them trembling.

'Look, Hermann. I'm not investigating you or anything you've done. But I have a very good idea of what happened and I need to find the person who took you for a ride. No names, no ha.s.sle afterwards. I just want some information.'

'Nothing happened,' he said in a thin voice and leaned against the wall, a bead of perspiration running from his thick hair down one temple. 'Honestly.'

'No. Nothing didn't happen. I have it on good authority that you checked into the hotel that morning and left that afternoon. You didn't spend the night there, even though you had paid for it. Why was that?'

'Am I a suspect or something?' he blurted out as the bead of perspiration became a rivulet.

'No. Not at all. But you could be an important witness.'

Hermann's eyes flickered to the window and back. 'No. I can't. I don't have anything to say.'

Gunna could sense his terror, so sharp as to be an almost palpable presence in the room, and the intensity of it set her wondering what he was so frightened of. Facing a blank refusal to cooperate, though, there was little she could do.

'All right. If that's the way you want it, I can't force you to say anything,' Gunna said with a grim undertone, taking a card from her wallet. 'But if you change your mind, please give me a call. I repeat, I'm not looking for any wrongdoing on your part just information,' she said, putting the card into his hand and noticing that the palm was damp with sweat.

Leaving the flat, Gunna felt its windows glaring at her back, certain that Hermann would be dropping her card into the bin and trying to forget that he had ever seen her.

Baddo found the internet confusing. Since the two mustachioed gorillas had delivered him to Kstrup and a flight to Iceland, he had seen many differences. The world had changed. Reykjavik had gone from a wayward child with too much cash in its pockets to a surly, suspicious teenager wary of receiving another hiding like the last one, but slowly becoming bold again.

He had noticed how construction had stopped, although that s.h.i.+ny square box of an opera house where the fish market had once been took him by surprise. Unlike the boisterous city of the boom years when the place was awash with money and the nightlife continued past dawn and into the next day, Reykjavik had a brooding presence now, as if it were waiting patiently for the good times to roll again. Not that Baddo had much time for the suited yuppies who'd taken the cash and run; what amazed him was that so many of them were able to go about their lives without being a.s.saulted.

Nothing had surprised him for long, although it was still a shock to see how little his money would buy these days and it hurt to see his sister struggling to put food on the table for the two of them, refusing to take his money while he wasn't earning anything. The internet had changed the most. After the years that he hadn't had access to it, it now seemed that half the world could be found online and much of the world seemed to have disappeared inside a computer screen.

He typed in the letters Haraldur had given him a stupid-sounding name, he thought, but what the h.e.l.l? Personal.is opened gradually on Maria's old computer, although as far as Baddo was concerned, it was impressively fast.