‘Christ, what are you playing at? It’s staring us in the face. All we have to do is haul it out of Gusti the Gob without having to drag all kinds of other stuff into it,’ S?valdur fumed.
‘Fair enough. Have you found the car or the driver responsible for Egill Grimsson’s death yet?’
‘Well, no. But whoever it was will show up soon enough.’
‘Have you ruled out a link between them?’
‘Between a schoolteacher in his forties and a nerd in his twenties? Come on, Gunna, talk sense, will you?’
‘There are links and we need to look into them. There’s more here than meets the eye, S?valdur.’
He shifted back in his chair and swung his feet outwards to cross his ankles, throwing his head back in mock despair. ‘All right. If you want to follow trails that go nowhere, that’s up to you. As far as I’m concerned, we have our culprit right here and he just needs to be cracked.’
Gunna sighed. ‘OK. There’s enough to charge him with theft or fraud for the credit cards. That gives you plenty of time to try and get a confession out of him, but I don’t reckon you will.’
‘Why not?’ S?valdur demanded with a sneer in his voice.
‘Because Gusti didn’t do it. Even if you charge him, you won’t get a conviction.’
‘You’re wrong. Gusti’s our man.’ S?valdur levered himself to his feet. ‘What’s the matter with you, Gunna? Don’t you want a result on this? That’s what upstairs wants to see, and that’s what they’re going to get. Come and watch the master at work, you’ll see,’ he said and swaggered from the room, leaving his mug on the table for Gunna to pick up.
She rose to her feet as the door banged behind him and, seething with suppressed anger, rinsed out her own mug and placed it carefully by the sink, ignoring S?valdur’s.
8
Wednesday, 3 September
03-09-2008, 2315
I’ll be your back door man . . .
Maybe the government’s hippest young gunslinger should be paying more attention to his uber-fashionable old lady, as rumour has it that she’s already signed up for a week’s conference in Miami next month at the International Federation of Arse-Lickers and Bullshitmongers (known otherwise as the PR Practitioners’ Guild). But is she going alone? Of course not . . . And why should she when there’s a whole stableful of eager young hunks manning her office for her to pick from for a little companionship, just in case she needs a little manning herself?
So, in case you’ve popped by to read the latest — and we know that you have, guys — this is just to let the lucky stud know that he needs to stock up on some lube at the airport, as we hear the lady has some unusual preferences. Hmmm, tasteful . . .
Check back soon . . .
B?jo!
9
Thursday, 4 September
A burst of sunshine broke through the bank of tattered clouds rolling in from the west and glinted first on the wavelets lapping at the harbour walls, and then on the blackened concrete of the crumbling quayside at the tiny village of Sandeyri.
Gunna leaned on the breakwater and puffed a Camel as two young officers watched a crane taking up position on the dockside. To her satisfaction, S?valdur had still failed to extract a confession from Gusti but had charged him with an array of offences relating to Einar Eyjolfur’s credit cards. Added to a morning’s drive out to Sandeyri, this made the day a good one and she basked in the warmth of the autumn sunshine.
She was grateful for a brief respite in the routine at Hvalvik, where managing heavy traffic and relations with InterAlu were increasingly occupying her working hours even with the addition of Snorri to the station. Construction work continued at the new smelter at the far side of Hvalvik harbour and the long trucks taking earth movers and heavy gear had begun the trek up the Slettudalur road to the new site that would become the Hvalvik Lagoon power station.
She looked down at the shimmering water, and what at first appeared to be the slick head of a seal among the miniature waves lifted itself from the water and hauled a mask up its face. The diver hung on to a rusting ladder and called up to one of the officers on the quay.
‘Going to be long?’
‘Two minutes.’
The diver nodded and waited patiently while the crane was jacked up on to its lifting plates and the jib lowered out over the water. As heavy canvas slings dropped to the surface, the diver pulled his mask back down and slipped below the surface with hardly a ripple. A minute later he reappeared, dropping his mouthpiece to shout.
‘Away you go!’
Gunna stood up straight, stamped on the cigarette butt and walked smartly to the quayside. The diver sculled gently away from where the crane’s wire disappeared into the water.
The engine roared. Black smoke belched from the crane’s exhaust and drifted lazily down the quay in the still air. Wire spun on to the drum and scattered shining droplets where it left the water until the slings appeared and finally the roof of a car broke the surface. Clear water sparkled and streamed from its open windows as it was raised high into the air, turning in slow circles.
The car swung over the dock, was gently lowered on to its wheels and crouched there, a small jeep with paintwork covered in a thin layer of green growth. One of the officers detached the slings that the diver had passed through the car’s windows so it could be lifted by its roof. The diver clambered up the ladder and sat on a bollard to remove some of his equipment. Gunna helped him unhitch the tank from his back and put it down carefully.
‘See anything else down there?’
The diver pulled his hood off to reveal a shock of grey hair and an older face than Gunna had expected to see, adorned with the kind of walrus moustache that had gone out of fashion with bowler hats.
‘Not much to be seen down there. The bottom’s all sand — if there was anything big, it would probably show up well enough. The tide’s pretty strong around here, so anything small tends to get swept out anyway. You’re Raggi S?m’s wife, aren’t you?’
‘Was. And you are?’ Gunna responded in surprise.
‘Unnsteinn Gestsson. Your Raggi and I sat for our tickets together, bloody years ago it seems now.’
‘Unnsteinn? I don’t recall him mentioning you.’
‘Steini the diver?’
‘Of course. You were on
‘A good few years, actually. I think Raggi must have been second mate about the time I joined the ship, and then he transferred to
Gunna looked down at the cracked concrete at her feet. Raggi was in her thoughts every day, often at the most uncomfortable moments. For the first time in many months she felt the familiar stab of grief behind her breastbone and ruthlessly blocked back tears that threatened to bully their way down her cheeks. ‘So. You left the service, then?’
‘Yup. Retired a couple of years ago with twenty-five years’ undetected rule-breaking and skiving behind me. Now I just do a bit of work for the harbour authorities. That’s how we found this old heap. After the earthquake in the spring the town surveyor asked me to have a look at the pilings under all the quays to see if it’s all solid. I’ve