The door was opened by an old man in a green shirt. His face was wrinkled with the erosion of a thousand gales. The corners of his mouth pointed downwards. His small blue eyes burned angrily.
‘Magnus?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Didn’t I see you here a couple of days ago?’
‘You did.’
‘Well, what are you doing here?’
‘I’ve come to give you a message.’
‘And what makes you think I wish to hear it?’
The man might be in his eighties, but Magnus felt his power. He was struggling to control the situation, the conversation, Magnus himself. Magnus could almost feel himself shrinking, back to the proud but scared twelve- year-old he used to be.
‘I don’t know how my father died. And I don’t know how Benedikt Johannesson died. But I do know you had something to do with both their deaths. And I am going to find out what.’
‘Is that your message?’
‘No, my message is don’t die before I do find out. Because you are going to pay, old man. I am going to make sure you pay.’
Hallgrimur’s face reddened as he puffed out his chest. ‘Who the devil do you think you are?’
Magnus wasn’t listening. He spun on his heel, jumped into his Range Rover and turned it around to face Reykjavik.
He
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Icelanders like to say that the people who bankrupted their country number no more than thirty. Oskar Gunnarsson is intended to represent one of these thirty, but not any specific individual.
Similarly, the characters in the book who held prominent political positions, such as Prime Minister of Iceland or the British Chancellor of the Exchequer during the crisis, do not represent the individuals who held those positions in reality. And indeed any similarity between other characters and real people is coincidental.
I should like to thank a number of people for their help. Nic Cheetham and Petur Mar Olafsson my British and Icelandic editors, Oliver Munson my agent, Richenda Todd, Liz Hatherell, Tom Bernard, Toby Wyles, Karl Steinar Valsson, Anna Margret Gudjonsdottir, Sigrun Lilja Gudbjartsdottir, Armann Thorvaldsson, Ida Margret Josepsdottir, Alda Sigmundsdottir, and Lara Gillies. It is a challenge, but an enjoyable one, to write about a country which is not your own. If there are any errors, they are all mine.
Lastly, I should like to thank my wife Barbara and my children for their patience, support and encouragement.
Michael Ridpath
