66 Degrees North

That caught Sophie’s attention. The guy talking was tall with longish curly hair. She thought his name was Jeff.

‘The Icelanders! Don’t be stupid, Josh. Why not the Greenlanders?’ Not Jeff, Josh.

‘No, I’m serious.’ Josh was leaning forward, his eyes alight. ‘I’ve got it all figured out. The Icelanders hate Julian Lister. Ever since the credit crunch. He confiscated all their assets and called them a bunch of terrorists.’

‘Yeah, well, loads of people hate Julian Lister. So what does that prove?’

Josh lowered his voice. ‘You know I was working in the House of Commons as a research assistant over the summer? I was working for Anita Norris who was a junior treasury minister. Well, Zak Samuelsson, you know, the Icelander, asked me where Julian Lister was going on holiday this summer. I mean what kind of question is that?’

‘So what are you suggesting? That Zak shot him?’

‘Or told one of his mates back in Iceland.’

Sophie felt her ears redden. Everyone around the table was looking at her, apart from Josh, who clearly was the only one who didn’t know she was going out with Zak.

‘What?’ Josh said, aware that something was wrong.

‘You’re such an arsehole, Josh,’ said Tori.

‘What do you think, Sophie?’ It was one of the other guys, Eddie. The question was well meant, he was trying to give Sophie a chance to defend her boyfriend.

‘That doesn’t make any sense,’ said Sophie. ‘Icelanders don’t do that sort of thing.’

‘I bet Zak was pleased about what happened to Lister,’ said Josh, still not quite getting it.

‘He wasn’t,’ said Sophie. ‘I know him, you don’t, and he had nothing to do with it.’

‘Yeah, Josh,’ said Tori. ‘You talk a lot of shit. Don’t mouth off about stuff you know nothing about.’

The penny dropped. Josh glanced around the group. ‘Sorry. I didn’t know he was a friend of yours,’ he said to Sophie.

She smiled weakly. ‘That’s OK,’ she said.

But as soon as the conversation moved on she finished her drink and slipped away. She was desperate to get out of there.

Magnus paced up and down in his tiny room. He felt imprisoned. Arni had been waiting for Frikki, and when Frikki eventually returned home with his girlfriend, Arni had whisked him back to the station. He and Vigdis were interviewing the boy at that very moment. Magnus wanted to be there too. And if that wasn’t possible, he wanted to know what Frikki was saying. But he couldn’t disturb them; he just had to wait.

He had called Sharon Piper to find out if there was any news on the French couple holidaying in India. Nothing yet. Magnus swore as he hung up. Matching a verbal description was not conclusive. Magnus really needed a positive ID on Isak if he was to get himself back on the case. Without it, any attempt to link Oskar’s death to Iceland was just speculation. As Snorri and Baldur would make very clear. Having called Sharon once, Magnus couldn’t very well call her again.

It was getting dark and he was hungry. He grabbed his coat and headed outside. Around the corner and up the hill towards the church was Vitabar, the nearest thing the neighbourhood had to a diner. Magnus ordered a burger and a beer. He wolfed the burger down too quickly.

Rather than go back to his apartment he wandered the streets. Any call would come through to his cell phone. He found himself in the square in front of the Hallgrimskirkja. The church rose tall above him, illuminated against the night sky. Beneath it the statue of Leifur Eiriksson, the first European to discover America, stared out over the city to the west.

Sending Magnus home, perhaps.

His phone rang. It was Vigdis.

‘Hi. Did he talk?’ Magnus asked her.

‘No,’ Vigdis said.

‘What do you mean, no? Didn’t he say anything at all?’

‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’

‘What, has he got a lawyer or something?’

‘He doesn’t want one. It’s weird. He just sits there looking miserable. Not arrogant or cocky, you know the way they sometimes are when they think they can keep quiet and you can’t touch them. It looks like he’s just about to cry.’

‘So? Didn’t you make him cry?’

‘Hey, Magnus, cool it,’ said Vigdis.

‘All right.’ Magnus realized Vigdis had a point. He knew she was a good detective. He had to trust her. And there was no harder suspect to interview than one who said nothing at all. ‘Sorry, Vigdis. What’s your gut telling you?’

‘He’s guilty as hell. He knows what we are talking about. I asked him about Gabriel Orn and Oskar and Julian Lister and he showed no surprise at any of it. He knows the names of Harpa and Sindri and Bjorn. And it seems like he knows he is going to jail.’

‘Then why isn’t he talking?’

‘I don’t know. I think the softly-softly approach will work best. And if that doesn’t do it, we can always try keeping him in overnight.’

‘Is Baldur OK with that?’

‘I’ve squared it with him.’

‘A night in the cells can work wonders,’ Magnus said. ‘I wish I could be there too. Call me if you get anywhere, will you?’

Magnus returned to his apartment, waiting for Vigdis to call again. None came. Nor did he hear from Ingileif. That was strange. The Icesave meeting had taken place in the late afternoon. What was she doing afterwards?

In the end he found solace in a saga, the tried and tested medicine from his adolescence. He picked the Saga of the People of Eyri. Within a few minutes he was lost in the world of the Norse settlers, of Ketill Flat Nose, Bjorn the Easterner, who had built the first farmhouse at Bjarnarhofn, Arnkell, Snorri Godi, and Thorolfur Lame Foot. The countryside around Bjarnarhofn seemed closer and more real in the saga than in his own memory.

At about eleven o’clock his doorbell rang. It was Ingileif.

‘Hi,’ she kissed him as he answered the door. ‘Hi, Katrin.’ She waved at Magnus’s landlady as she climbed the stairs to his room. She tripped on a step. ‘Whoops-a-daisy.’

When they got into his room, she kissed him again. ‘Sorry I’m so late,’ she said.

‘That’s OK.’

‘I’m so drunk.’

Magnus had guessed. ‘Where were you?’ he asked, trying to keep any hint of accusation out of his voice.

‘Solving your case.’

‘What do you mean?’

Ingileif began to unbutton his shirt. ‘I’ll tell you afterwards.’

‘What do you mean, solving my case? Did you see Sindri at the Icesave meeting?’

‘Yup.’ Ingileif smiled. Magnus’s shirt was undone now. Her hands moved down to his pants.

‘You planned to see him all along?’

‘Yup.’

Magnus felt the anger rise. He had specifically told Ingileif not to do that. He backed away.

‘What’s wrong with that?’ Ingileif said. ‘You’d have been so proud of me. He told me everything.’

‘What? What did he tell you?’

Ingileif sat on Magnus’s bed. ‘Everything. How he shot Oskar. And the British Chancellor. Everything.’

‘He shot the chancellor?’

‘Well, not him, exactly. Him and his friends.’

Magnus sat down next to her on the bed. Angry though he was with Ingileif, he was desperate to know what she had found out. ‘Who are his friends?’