‘No.’
‘Or tourists?’
‘No. No tourists. That was the week before, when Magnus and I were alone at the holiday cottage. We used it twice, as far as I can remember, to meet in secret. That time he bumped into a woman and told me about her afterwards because she was studying the lakes around the city; she was fascinated by lakes. This was right by the cottage. She was looking at a map and was on her way up to Lake Sandkluftavatn. It stuck in my mind because I’d never heard the name before.’
‘Was she in a car?’ Erlendur asked.
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘What kind of car?’
‘It was yellow.’
‘Yellow? Are you sure?’
‘Yes. They’re called Mini-somethings, aren’t they? I saw it driving away through the birch scrub.’
‘And you think the person driving this car was the woman that Magnus had met?’ Erlendur asked, on the edge of his seat now.
‘I think so. It was right by the cottage.’
‘A Mini? Do you mean an Austin Mini?’
‘Yes, that’s it, isn’t it? Tiny little cars.’
‘A yellow Austin Mini?’
‘Yes. Why?’
Erlendur was on his feet.
‘On its way to Sandkluftavatn?’
‘Yes. Goodness, what’s the matter?’
‘Was there anyone with her?’
‘I don’t know. What’s the matter? What have I said?’
‘Could there have been a young man with her?’
‘I don’t know. Who are these people? Do you know them? Do you know who these people are?’
‘No,’ Erlendur said. ‘Possibly. No, hardly. Did you say Lake Sandkluftavatn?’
‘Yes, Sandkluftavatn.’
30
What did he know about Lake Sandkluftavatn? He had driven past it with Eva Lind without paying it any particular attention. It was about an hour’s drive from Reykjavik, beside the road just north of Thingvellir, between the mountains Armannsfell and Lagafell, before the ascent to Blaskogaheidi Moor. It was overlooked by the unmistakable bulk of Mount Skjaldbreidur to the north-east.
The diver, whose name was Thorbergur, was familiar with the lakes of south-west Iceland, having explored many of them. He had once worked for the fire brigade and had assisted the police with smuggling cases, as well as diving from the country’s docks in search of missing people. He had been available when a person was reported missing and search parties were organised to comb the beaches and drag the sea and lakes. But eventually he retired from diving for a living and became a mechanic instead, starting up his own garage, which was now his main occupation. Erlendur had sometimes taken the Ford to him for servicing. Thorbergur was six foot five and had always reminded Erlendur of a giant, with his red hair and beard, long swimmer’s arms and strong teeth that often used to gleam through his beard as he was a humorous man and was quick to smile.
‘You have divers working for you,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you go to one of them? I’ve given up. You know that.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Erlendur said. ‘I just thought of talking to you because… you still have the equipment, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘And the inflatable?’
‘Yes. The little one.’
‘And you still go diving sometimes, even though you’ve stopped working for us?’
‘Very occasionally.’
‘This is not, how shall I put it, an official investigation,’ Erlendur explained. ‘More like a spot of private dabbling. I’d pay you out of my own pocket if you could be bothered to do this.’
‘Erlendur, I can’t go taking your money.’
Thorbergur sighed. Erlendur knew why he had stopped working for the police. The final straw had come one day when he had dived for the body of a woman who’d been found in Reykjavik harbour. She had been missing for three weeks and her body was badly decomposed when Thorbergur found it. He didn’t want to run the risk of seeing such horrors again. He didn’t want to wake up in the middle of the night gasping because the woman, or some nightmarish figure like her, wouldn’t stop invading his dreams.
‘It’s an old missing-person case,’ Erlendur said. ‘From way back. Involving youngsters. Possibly two of them. There was a breakthrough yesterday after decades of impasse. Admittedly, it’s based on very slight evidence but I felt I should at least talk to you. For the sake of my conscience.’
‘In other words, you want to shift the guilt on to me,’ Thorbergur said.
‘I couldn’t think of anyone else. I don’t know any better man for the job.’
‘You know I’ve quit, like I just told you. The only thing I investigate now is engines.’
‘I understand perfectly,’ Erlendur said. ‘I would have quit myself if I was trained for anything else.’
‘What was the breakthrough?’ Thorbergur asked.
‘In the case?’
‘Yes.’
‘We’ve always treated it as two unrelated missing-person cases but there’s a possibility that they were together when they disappeared: a boy in his last year of sixth-form college and a girl, slightly older, who was studying biology at the university. There’s really nothing to link them but we haven’t had any luck finding them separately either. The case had gone completely cold until recently and had been that way for decades. Then yesterday I learnt that the girl, whose name was Gudrun or Duna, might have been seen at Thingvellir on her way to Lake Sandkluftavatn. I checked the dates this morning. Of course they don’t tally. The girl might have been spotted at Thingvellir in late autumn. She was probably alone that time. The young couple didn’t vanish until several months later. The boy’s disappearance was reported at the end of February 1976. The report about the girl’s disappearance reached us in the middle of March that year. Since then nothing has been heard of either of them, which is unusual in itself; that two incidents occurring a short time apart should leave absolutely no trace. Generally there’s a trail somewhere. But there was none to be found in either of these cases.’
‘It’s unusual for kids in their twenties to get together with teenagers,’ Thorbergur commented. ‘Especially when the girl’s older.’
Erlendur nodded. He could tell that the diver was becoming interested in spite of himself.
‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘There was nothing to link them.’
They were sitting in Thorbergur’s office at the garage. Three other employees were hard at work repairing cars and occasionally darted glances into the office. It was little more than a glass cage and was easily visible from the workshop floor. The phone rang at regular intervals, interrupting their conversation, but Erlendur didn’t let this put him off his stride.
‘I checked the weather that day too,’ he said. ‘It was unusually cold. Most lakes would have iced over.’
‘I can tell that you’ve already formed a theory.’
‘I have, but it’s incredibly tenuous.’
‘Is no one allowed to know about this?’
‘There’s no point complicating matters,’ Erlendur said. ‘If you find something, give me a call. If not, the case is as dead as ever.’
‘I’ve never actually dived in Sandkluftavatn,’ Thorbergur said. ‘It’s too shallow in summer and doesn’t get
