She thought it peculiar that Kjartan hadn’t hesitated at all when she mentioned her name. Perhaps he’d heard Markus’s explanation for the severed head and had already remembered who she was. She hoped this wasn’t the case, because it would mean Markus had been very indiscreet.
‘There was only one Alda in the Islands at that time. She was the same age as Markus, and her father was one of our friends. His name was Thorgeir and he died recently. He was one of those who stayed behind to assist the rescue crews along with me and Markus’s father Magnus.’
‘Did you know Alda died this week?’asked Thora.
‘Yes, I heard about that,’ he replied. ‘Her mother and sister still live in the Islands, and I know both of them. The whole thing is, in a word, tragic, and I don’t understand what causes people to take such desperate measures. Her mother is devastated, understandably.’ Kjartan glanced very quickly out over the harbour before continuing. He seemed to wish to change the subject, clearly finding it difficult to talk about sensitive issues, like so many men of his generation. ‘But I don’t remember either Alda or Markus being there that night. Try to imagine five thousand people milling about out here. It was utter bedlam, and there was no time to talk to shocked teenagers.’
‘Markus said that he’d been evacuated to the mainland on the same boat as Alda, and that they’d spoken on board,’ said Thora. ‘Is it possible to verify this? In other words, are there records of who went on which boat to the mainland that night?’
Kjartan shrugged. ‘I simply don’t know. The Red Cross took down the names of those who landed and arranged for people to be sent to Reykjavik from Thorlakshofn. I think they also recorded which people were taken in by relatives and so on. Whether the records say which ships people travelled on I don’t know, and if they did who’s to say if such papers were even preserved?’
‘They’re probably in the National Archive,’ cried Bella, suddenly. She blushed slightly when Thora and Kjartan looked at her in surprise. They had both forgotten her.‘That’s where I would put them, anyway,’ she added, before abruptly shutting up.
‘There’s also an archive here in town,’ said Kjartan. ‘On the first floor of the library. They might have those papers there.’
‘If not, then they’re probably in the National Archive, as you suggested, Bella,’ said Thora, pleased with her secretary’s interest. This was a possible assignment for the girl while they were here, she thought. Bella could search for the documents in the town’s archive and dig through them until she found Markus and Alda’s names. If they didn’t show up in the search, Bella could continue in Reykjavik later. There was a lot at stake, because although such documents would not suffice in themselves to clear Markus of all suspicion, they would at least provide some support to his story. He had told Alda on the ship that the box had been left behind in the basement, and since Alda was no longer living, Markus was in dire need of anything, no matter how small, to help support his statement. Thora turned to Kjartan. ‘The men who remained behind to do the rescue work,’ she said, ‘could they travel between the Islands freely, or was there some sort of system in place?’
Kjartan shook his head. ‘For the first two or three days there was no organization at all. People just worked like mad on their own initiative, salvaging what they could. And then it changed and started becoming more orderly. Although attempts were made to control the operations, it was actually nature that controlled everything according to its whims. It also wasn’t long before more rescue crews came from the mainland, but unfortunately I don’t have any precise numbers available on their size or how they were organized. I do recall that there were three or four hundred people here at the height of the rescue operation.’ Kjartan looked Thora in the eye. ‘If you’re asking whether any of them could have gone into the house and put the bodies there, or killed those people in the basement, the answer is absolutely yes. It wouldn’t have been at all difficult. The houses that they’re digging up now weren’t immediately buried by ash – at least two weeks passed from the start of the eruption until the ash covered them. I wouldn’t have wanted to enter them myself at that point because they were so close to the vent, but someone may well have been desperate enough to take the risk. About four hundred houses were covered by lava and obviously those couldn’t be saved. That row of houses, on the other hand, was buried under ash, which doesn’t have the same destructive power as molten rock. If I’d been hiding bodies I would have put them in houses that clearly would have been covered by lava, but of course that would have taken an enormous amount of courage. Lava doesn’t flow that quickly, but there are few sights more terrifying. It doesn’t spare anything. And it wasn’t just the burning lava that would have held most people back, but also the toxic gases it produced.’
‘Do you have any idea who these people were that were found in the basement?’ asked Thora. ‘Do you know whether anyone went missing? From the rescue crews, for example?’
‘I have no idea,’ replied Kjartan. ‘As far as I know, they all returned home in the end. No one died in the eruption.’
‘Except the man in the basement of the pharmacy,’ said Thora.
‘That wasn’t the eruption,’he replied. ‘He was an alcoholic.’
Thora was speechless. This was clearly the accepted view in the Islands. Alcoholics didn’t count. She was determined not to let this put her off. ‘But you must have wondered who these people were?’ she continued. ‘The Westmann Islands aren’t very large, so naturally it’s most likely that these men had some kind of tie to them.’
‘Not a clue,’ said Kjartan, and he tightened his lips. ‘From what I’ve seen in the news, no one knows who these people are, or how they ended up in the basement.’
‘That’s correct,’ said Thora patiently. ‘But it doesn’t hurt to wonder. It occurred to me that this might be connected to the Cod War, that they were sailors who died in an accident at sea or in some quarrel between the Icelanders and the British. I guess I’m assuming that they’re Englishmen.’
‘I doubt that,’ replied Kjartan.‘There were various difficulties at the time, but they never developed into anything like what you’re suggesting. Besides, it couldn’t have been kept secret if something like that had happened. We would never have been able to kill four Brits without it becoming a huge incident. I have no idea who these people were, unfortunately.’
Thora decided not to press any further, but was surprised that the man might not at least have considered the possibility that the dead people were foreigners. It was absolutely indisputable – four Icelanders simply could not have vanished without being missed. An uneasy feeling came over her. The man before her knew more than he wanted to reveal. He’d been more than prepared to chat about unimportant things. She looked at Bella and stood up. ‘Well, this was informative.’ She shook Kjartan’s hand. ‘Maybe we’ll get a chance to disturb you further, if anything else occurs to me.’
On the way out she noticed a framed photograph on the wall next to the doorway. It showed five people with their arms around each other’s shoulders. They were all wearing helmets, while in the background a jet of ash stretched to the sky. One of the men was clearly Kjartan in his younger years. All of them looked exhausted, and none smiled at the camera. ‘Is Markus’s father in this photograph, perhaps?’
Kjartan walked up to it and pointed at one of the men. ‘That’s him. Magnus. And then there’s Geiri, or Thorgeir. Alda’s father.’
‘This is clearly you here, but who are the other two?’ Thora asked.
Kjartan snorted rudely. ‘That’s Dadi,’ he said, pointing at a rather ugly man who was a good deal shorter than the others. ‘A boring bastard who was married to an even more boring woman.’ He moved his finger. ‘And this is Gudni.’
‘The policeman?’ asked Thora, turning to Kjartan. ‘Was he one of the friends that you mentioned?’
‘Was isthe operative word,’ replied Kjartan.
Chapter Nine
Bella relaxed with a cigarette as they stood outside Cafe Kro, a little harbourside
