‘Margret’s my mother.’

‘That’s nice,’ said the man, with a slur. He raised his beer. ‘To Margret.’ He put down his glass. He nodded towards the beer in front of Magnus. ‘Bad day?’

Magnus nodded. ‘You could say that.’

‘You know they say that drink doesn’t solve anything?’ the man said.

Magnus nodded.

‘That’s balls.’ The man laughed and raised his glass.

Magnus noticed for the first time that chess sets were glued upside-down to the ceiling. Huh. That was kind of cool.

He looked around the bar. The patrons were all ages and sizes. They carried on a desultory conversation interrupted with bursts of chuckles and wry laughter. Many were unsteady on their feet and inaccurate with their gestures and back-slapping. At one end of the bar two college-age American girls were perched on stools, entertaining a succession of loquacious Icelanders. At the other end a thin man with grey hair sticking out under a flat cap suddenly burst into a rendition of a tune from Porgy and Bess in a mellifluous baritone. ‘Summertime – and the livin’ is ea-easy…’

Good singers, these Icelanders.

Another beer. Another chaser. The anger dissipated. He began to relax. He struck up conversations with the men on either side. With the American girls, although he put on a heavy Icelandic accent for their benefit. He thought that was pretty funny. In fact, he thought he was pretty funny. He played a game of chess and lost.

Another beer. Another chaser. Two chasers. How many chasers did that make? How many beers? No idea.

Eventually it was time to go home. Magnus lifted himself off his stool and bade an emotional goodbye to his new buddies. The room lurched wildly. The guy with the flat cap briefly became two guys with flat caps, before resolving himself into a single individual again.

Boy, was Magnus drunk. Drunker than he had been for a long time. But it felt good.

He strode out of the bar and straightened up in the cold night air. It was way past midnight. The sky was clear, stars twinkled icily above him. A three-quarter moon was reflected in the bay below. He took a deep breath.

He liked Reykjavik. It was an innocent little town, and he was glad of that. He would do his part to keep it that way.

He was proud to be one of Reykjavik’s finest.

There was no one on the streets. The contrast between a Sunday and a Saturday night in Reykjavik was marked. But as he headed up the hill towards home, Magnus spotted a cluster of three men in an alley. The tableau was so familiar.

Drugs.

Magnus scowled. Low-lifes in Toytown.

He would sort them out. ‘Hey!’ he shouted, and headed down the alley. ‘Hey! What are you doing?’

The guy selling the drugs was small and dark, possibly not even Icelandic. The guy doing the buying, was taller, wiry, with a woolly hat. He had a friend, a great big Nordic block with short blonde hair and a tiny little blonde beard. Bigger even than Magnus, and showing off bulging biceps under a black T-shirt on this cold night.

‘What has it got to do with you?’ said the drug pusher. He said it in English, because Magnus had hailed him in English.

‘Give that to me,’ said Magnus, holding out his hand and swaying. ‘I’m a cop.’

‘Piss off,’ said the pusher.

Magnus lunged at him. The guy ducked and struck him in the chest. But there was no power in it and Magnus laid him out with a single blow to the jaw. The Nordic hulk grabbed Magnus and tried to drag him down to the floor, but Magnus shook him off. For a few moments the adrenaline overcame the alcohol, and Magnus landed two good blows, before getting an arm lock on the big guy. ‘You’re under arrest!’ he shouted, still in English.

The pusher was on the ground, moaning. The thin guy with the woolly hat started running.

‘Get the hell off me,’ growled the hulk in Icelandic.

He swung round and crashed backwards into the wall, crushing Magnus. Magnus let go. The big guy turned and struck Magnus twice, once in the head and once in the stomach, but Magnus dodged the third blow and hit him with an uppercut.

The big guy reeled. Another crunching punch from Magnus and he went down.

Magnus stared at the pusher who was pulling himself to his feet. ‘You’re under arrest too.’

But then the alley started to sway and spin. The blow to his stomach did its stuff, and Magnus doubled up to retch. He tried to stand up straight, but he couldn’t. He swayed. Staggered.

The little guy was about to run, when he saw the state that Magnus was in. He laughed and head-butted him in the face.

Magnus dropped.

He lay on the cold tarmac for a while. Seconds? Minutes? He didn’t know.

He heard sirens. Good. Help.

Rough hands picked him up. He tried to focus on the face in front of him. It was a cop wearing the uniform of the Reykjavik Metropolitan Police.

‘They went that way,’ said Magnus, in English. Waving indeterminately.

‘Come with us,’ said the cop and pulled Magnus over to the waiting car, with its lights flashing.

‘I’m a police officer,’ said Magnus. ‘Look, let me show you my badge.’ All this still in English.

The patrolman waited while Magnus pulled out his Commonwealth of Massachusetts driver’s licence from his wallet.

‘Come on,’ said the cop.

Then Magnus threw up all over the patrolman’s shoes.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Diego turned on the light. The two naked bodies entwined on top of the bed froze, but only for an instant.

Then the man leaped off the woman, twisted and sat up, all in one athletic movement. The woman opened her mouth to scream, but stopped when she saw the gun.

Fortunately, there was no way that either of them could know that there was only one bullet in the cylinder of the revolver.

Diego chuckled.

It was pretty funny. He had positioned himself in an armchair in the living room, gun drawn, out of line of sight of the door. He’d waited there happily all evening. Then two people had come in.

Diego decided to wait. Surprise them when they turned around. But he’d never got the chance!

The guy jumped the girl right away. And she seemed happy with that. For a moment it looked as if Diego was going to get a show right there on the living room floor, but then the woman led the guy into the bedroom. And neither of them even saw him!

He decided to wait until they had taken off whatever clothes they were going to take off. Naked was good, as far as he was concerned. Then he slipped through the open door into the bedroom, and watched the action in the dim glow of the streetlights outside for a few seconds.

Now they were both blinking in the glare of the electric light.

‘You!’ Diego jabbed the revolver at the man. ‘In the bathroom! Now! And if I hear a sound I’ll come right in there and pump your skinny ass full of bullets.’

The guy needed no more prompting. He was out of the bed and in the bathroom with the door shut in an instant.

He moved over towards the woman. Colby.

Nice body. A bit thin, but nice firm tits.

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