66 Degrees North

January.’

‘Of course, come in,’ the woman said. ‘My name is Anita. Let me get you some coffee.’

‘Please don’t bother,’ said Magnus.

‘Nonsense. It’s one of the few things I can still do. My husband is playing golf: he won’t be back for hours.’

Magnus took off his shoes and followed Anita into the kitchen where a pot of coffee was waiting. Agonizingly slowly she poured a cup for him. They sat at the kitchen table.

The woman seemed to be tired out already. Magnus resolved to get through his questions as fast as possible. ‘So Isak was a student in London last year?’

‘Yes. He came back home for Christmas. And he was very interested in the demonstrations. Although term had started at the LSE he came back just for the opening of Parliament. He said it was a historic moment and he wanted to be there. I suppose he was right.’

‘So he went to the demonstration the day Gabriel Orn was killed?’

‘Yes. His father was furious, of course. He lost his job as a result of the protests.’ Anita hesitated. ‘You said “was killed”. Didn’t the poor man commit suicide?’

‘Er, that’s what we thought,’ said Magnus. ‘So your son and your husband disagree politically?’

‘You can say that again. Samuel has been a member of the Independence Party since he was eighteen, and Isak is a committed socialist. They disagree on everything: climate change, the aluminium smelters, Europe, you name it. It’s ironic, really, since they are both so fascinated by politics.’

‘How radical is Isak?’ Magnus asked.

Anita paused. ‘That’s an interesting question,’ she said. ‘By today’s standards, I suppose he is radical. I mean most of his friends want to go off and become bankers or go to law school. Or at least wanted to until this year. But Isak still reads Marx and Lenin, although I don’t think he’s a communist or anything. Compared to my generation he’s just mildly to the left. Iceland has changed, hasn’t it?’

‘It certainly has,’ said Magnus.

‘Perhaps it will change back,’ Anita said. ‘To the way it was. I hope it does before…’

Magnus was about to say ‘before what?’ when he realized the woman was referring to her cancer. She was growing greyer by the minute in front of him. He would be quick.

‘Did Isak know a woman by the name of Harpa Einarsdottir? She used to work at Odinsbanki?’

‘No, I don’t think so. I suppose he might do, but most of his friends are still at university. Was she the woman he had a fight with in the bar?’

Magnus nodded.

‘No. That was the first time he met her.’ She frowned. ‘I don’t know what he was doing. He had never done anything like that before. He drinks sometimes when he’s out with his friends at weekends, but he never gets into fights. It must have been the excitement of the demonstration.’

‘What about Bjorn Helgason, a fisherman from Grundarfjordur?’

‘I very much doubt it,’ Anita said. ‘One or two of his friends from school might have become fishermen, but he never mentioned anyone going to Grundarfjordur.’

And Bjorn Helgason was probably ten years older than Isak, Magnus thought. ‘Or Oskar Gunnarsson? The former chairman of Odinsbanki. He has lived in London for the past year.’

‘The banker who was murdered this week?’

Magnus nodded.

‘But I thought you were asking about the other banker’s suicide? You don’t think Isak had anything to do with that man’s murder, do you?’

The distress came through strongly in her voice.

‘No,’ said Magnus. ‘No, not at all. I’m just trying to establish connections, that’s all.’

‘Well, the answer to your question is “no”. My son has never mentioned Oskar Gunnarsson.’

Magnus decided it was time to wrap things up. As he was leaving, Anita, who had been frowning deeply, suddenly brightened. ‘Oh, there is one thing. Isak was here this week. He came home on Monday and flew back to London yesterday. Oskar Gunnarsson was killed at the beginning of the week, wasn’t he?’

‘That’s right. Tuesday night.’

‘So that means Isak couldn’t have been involved.’

‘I never suggested he was,’ said Magnus, apologetically.

‘Maybe not. But you were thinking it, weren’t you?’

As Magnus left Hafnarfjordur he thought about Isak. It was a bit of a coincidence that he was a student in London. Magnus believed that Isak’s mother really had no idea of a connection between Isak and Oskar, and he was pretty sure that her son was indeed in Iceland when Oskar had been shot. But she was wrong when she said that didn’t mean he was involved. Maybe he hadn’t pulled the trigger, but it was quite possible that he had had something to do with the person who had.

Harpa was definitely linked to the two dead bankers. In Isak’s case, the connections were much more tenuous, but still enough to alert Magnus’s interest. The next person to check out was Bjorn Helgason.

Magnus had the report of Arni’s interview with him in the car. It was probably three hours from Hafnarfjordur to Grundarfjordur, but it was a Saturday and he didn’t have anything else to do. But first he decided to drop in on Bjorn’s brother Gulli, with whom Harpa and Bjorn had stayed the night of Gabriel Orn’s death.

Once again checking Arni’s scanty notes, Magnus drove to the address in Vesturbaer, just behind the Catholic Cathedral. He parked outside a square grey three-storey building, and rang the bell marked Gulli. No reply.

He had just tried again, when a young woman in tracksuit bottoms and a hoodie took out a key to the building.

Magnus stopped her and introduced himself. ‘Do you know Gulli Helgason who lives in Flat Three?’ he asked.

‘Oh, yes I know Gulli,’ she said. ‘What’s he done?’

‘Nothing,’ said Magnus, his suspicions aroused. ‘Does he often get visits from the police?’

‘Oh, no,’ said the woman, looking confused. ‘No, not at all. He’s a nice guy, actually. Good at fixing things. Helps out the neighbours, especially the old lady on the ground floor.’

‘Do you have any idea when he’s likely to be back?’ Magnus asked.

‘No. I’m pretty sure he’s away on holiday. I haven’t seen him for a few days and his van has been parked there for a while. Hasn’t moved.’

She nodded towards a blue VW Transporter, with Gulli Helgason’s name and phone number painted on the side panel.

‘He’s a decorator, isn’t he?’

‘Yes. He used to be very busy, but not any more. With the kreppa.’

‘No, of course,’ said Magnus. Painters and decorators would have been hit hard, he supposed. ‘Thanks for your help.’

According to his notes, Arni’s interview with Gulli back in January had confirmed that Bjorn had been staying with him, and that Gulli had seen Harpa at the flat the morning after Gabriel Orn’s death. It was unlikely that a further interview would reveal more, but you never knew. Magnus would be back.

After jotting down Gulli’s phone number, Magnus returned to his car and the long drive to Grundarfjordur.

Harpa walked rapidly along the edge of the bay, head down. The sun was out and the clouds had lifted off Mount Esja, but she scarcely noticed. She had been shaken by the return of the detective Magnus with the policewoman from Scotland Yard. Now the police knew about Oskar and about Markus, they wouldn’t leave her alone.

She had been distracted all morning, and eventually Disa had given her an hour off. Harpa had explained that the police were asking about Gabriel Orn’s suicide, and that she was the banker’s former girlfriend. Disa listened with sympathy, but Harpa could detect a hint of suspicion. Disa was clearly wondering why in that case the police had asked her where Harpa was on Tuesday and Wednesday.

It was bad enough having to lie to Disa, or at least to conceal the truth. But it was Markus that Harpa was having real problems with. She couldn’t look him in the eye. She couldn’t look her own son in the eye!

He had begun to realize something was wrong. Usually so well behaved, he had started to act up. That would only get worse.