Part 26 (1/2)

'Why don't you go back to bed, Ragga?' Hinrik suggested.

She belched and sat down on a stool as she rummaged through a drawer. 'Pills,' she said. 'My head feels like it's been under a truck.'

Hinrik put his hand up to a shelf and picked up a packet of painkillers, which he tossed to her, his mind ticking over at the possibilities that Joel Ingi had unwittingly revealed. He had a.s.sumed the man had wanted to find someone so he could administer a beating, but it seemed there was more to it, maybe something that could turn out to be profitable. Ragga caught the packet and snapped four pills from it, throwing them down her throat and gulping the gla.s.s of water to wash them down.

's.h.i.+t,' she moaned, holding her head in her hands. 'Must have been a good time last night. I don't remember a thing.'

'You had a good time, I a.s.sure you,' Hinrik said. 'Ragga, we're talking business here.'

'Yeah, yeah.'

'Leave us to it for a while, will you?'

'I know, I know. I'm going to take myself back to bed like a good girl.'

She hauled herself to her feet and padded out of the room. Joel Ingi felt a flickering of excitement in spite of himself at the sight of heavy legs and muscular shoulders as Ragga scratched and yawned on her way out. She stopped in the doorway, blew a kiss and belched before vanis.h.i.+ng. Joel Ingi could hear the sofa in the next room creak and a mutter of sound as the TV clicked on.

Ragga's arrival had broken Joel Ingi's concentration. He could feel anger dissipating and being replaced by a wave of fatigue. He dug his fingernails into the palm of his hands and thought of everything he had worked towards; it was all about to be lost because of a stupid indiscretion.

'I want that woman's address,' he snarled, feeling the anger return. 'Otherwise I'll have some really unpleasant people coming after me, and I'll make d.a.m.n sure they come after you as well.'

The bakery was full. Baddo stood in the queue with his hood down and a scarf swathed around as much of his lower face as he could manage. The bakery wasn't big, but the quality of its Danish pastries and the easy parking outside meant the place did a roaring trade in the mornings.

Not in any hurry, he watched from one of the tall tables at one side, sipping coffee and idly flipping through yesterday's DV newspaper. He watched people lining up to get to the counter, tracking them as they left their cars outside and made their way in through the doors to buy their lunchtime sandwiches or a mid-morning snack.

It's just as well Iceland's such a safe place, Baddo thought. In mainland Europe, or practically anywhere else, people would be careful about the wallets and phones hanging out of their pockets.

He moved into the queue at the counter, one eye on the array of pastries on display but another on a young man in a knitted jacket with gaping pockets. He stood there deciding what to buy, a bunch of keys clearly visible in his cavernous pocket.

An orange-faced girl standing next to him looked blankly at the same display, a handbag slung over her shoulder, popping gum as she waited in the queue. He could sense her impatience growing behind the incongruous midwinter tan as her gum popped rapidly three times.

'In a hurry, are you?' Baddo asked and was rewarded with a blank stare and a nod. The rattle of something cheerful breezed out of the iPod earpieces in sharp contrast to the bored look on her round face as she shuffled past him. Baddo took a short half-step to one side, letting her brush against his coat as he smartly dipped into the handbag and came out with a set of keys that vanished into his parka's sleeve.

He slipped out of the bakery and clicked the fob. Looking around for flashes, he saw the hazard lights of an anonymous mud-brown Hyundai wink as he pressed the b.u.t.ton a second time to make sure. As he drove away, Baddo caught a glimpse of the girl emerging from the bakery with a bag of Danish pastries in one hand, rummaging in her capacious handbag for keys that were no longer there.

The old lady had sat stiffly on one of the plastic chairs in reception for half an hour before a uniformed officer showed her into the interview room.

'Have I done something wrong?' she asked as Gunna sat down opposite her. 'I don't want to waste anyone's time?'

'Not at all. Quite the opposite,' Gunna a.s.sured her and turned in her chair to call back the uniformed young man who was just about to close the door behind him.

'Hey, before you go,' she called after him, 'since we kept this lady waiting for so long, how about you bring her a cup of coffee?'

'We don't normally . . .' he began before Gunna cut him off firmly.

'It's not every day that someone takes the trouble to come down here and give us information. So two coffees, please,' she instructed. 'Milk?' she asked the elderly lady who sat with her handbag clutched in her grasp.

'Yes, please,' she said and finally let slip a glimmer of a nervous smile.

The door shut, although the young officer's disgruntlement could be felt through it.

'My name's Gunnhildur Gisladottir and I'm a CID officer. My colleague has given me the gist of what you came in here to tell us, so now I need you to tell me the story again,' Gunna said. 'But first, could you tell me your name?'

'I'm Sigurlin Egilsdottir but everyone calls me Lina. I live at Haaleitisbraut 80. It's a block of flats and I'm on the ground floor on the right.'

'Thank you, Lina. My colleague who should be bringing us a cup of coffee told me you saw an incident last night. Could you tell me what happened?'

'Well. I came in and there were some men fighting in the entrance. Three of them. Two of them were hurt, I think.'

'And when was this?'

'It was just before seven yesterday evening. I'd been shopping and took a taxi home as it's too far to walk in this weather.'

'And what happened?' Gunna coaxed.

'I opened the door to go in the entrance, as usual, and I was surprised that it wasn't locked. But as soon as I opened the inside door I could see what was happening. There was one man on the floor and two others trying to beat him up. He had a cut on his face and there was blood.'

'Did you recognize these men?' Gunna asked, opening a folder and putting a picture of a rather fresher-faced asmundur asuson in front of her. She stared at it.

'He looks like the young man who ran away,' she said slowly.

'And this one?'

A fatter Holmgeir Sigurjonsson than the one waiting in a cell glared out of his mugshot.

Lina nodded. 'Yes, I saw that man as well. Those are the two who ran out of the door past me.'

The door opened and the uniformed officer appeared with two mugs of coffee and a small carton of milk.

'Thanks,' Gunna said, giving him an approving smile as he sidled out. 'Now, Lina. These two, they were attacking a third man?'

'I think so but I'm not really sure,' the old lady said, and Gunna could see her marshalling her thoughts. 'The man who was on the floor, the one who's face had been hurt, was Maria's brother. But this young man was injured as well,' she said, pointing at asmundur's deadpan portrait. 'There was a puddle of blood all along the floor. I could see him bleeding as they ran past me. He was limping and making a lot of noise.'

'Who is Maria?'

'She's the girl on the top floor. When I say girl, she must be your age, but she looks young to me. She said her brother had been overseas for a long time and had come back to Iceland after many years; he's staying with her while he looks for work.'

'Top floor on the right? Do you know the brother's name?'

The old lady shook her head. 'No. He did tell me, but I've forgotten. He was hurt, too. He had his hand over his face. He said he was all right, but I could see it was bleeding.'

The door creaked open again and Gunna looked round to see Eirikur's face peering round.

'Chief. Can I have a word?'

'Excuse me a moment.' Gunna pushed her chair back and went outside. 'What is it?'

'The number you wanted tracked,' Eirikur said quietly. 'Siggi said it popped up ten minutes ago, made one call that wasn't answered and another that was, then switched off.'

'To unregistered numbers, I expect?'