get to the bottom of this.’
‘That can all be arranged, can’t it, Ivar?’
Ivar Laxdal nodded and grunted, his chin in one hand.
‘And as this guy is clearly dangerous, I want access to the Special Unit if some strong-arm stuff looks likely.’
‘As this appears to be a unique case for Icelandic policing, I feel a more senior officer should be handling it,’ Vilhjalmur said abruptly.
‘I was wondering when this was going to occur to you,’ Gunna murmured.
Ivar Laxdal and the Sheriff frowned in unison.
‘Gunnhildur is a highly competent officer. I don’t see a problem with her taking charge of this investigation, particularly as she has been with it from the outset,’ the Sheriff pointed out.
‘This is an exceptional case,’ Vilhjalmur responded stiffly.
‘And in my view Gunnhildur is an exceptional police officer,’ Ivar Laxdal said. ‘She’s familiar with every aspect of the investigation so far and we risk losing time by handing over to someone more senior. Do you have another officer in mind? Do you feel you should be in personal charge?’
Vilhjalmur opened his mouth and closed it again, while Gunna wondered when they were going to stop discussing her as if she were in another room. Unlike the three men sitting in front of her, she could see frowns on the faces of Bjossi, Snorri and Bara behind them. There was silence for a moment until Ivar Laxdal broke it.
‘This is something you’re confident to handle, isn’t it, Gunnhildur?’
‘It is,’ she answered hoarsely.
‘That’s settled, then,’ Ivar Laxdal said with satisfaction. ‘Now, where are you taking this?’
‘As low-profile as possible for the moment.’
She turned to the desk, picked up Matti’s picture and one of the green taxi and added them to the row of photographs on the wall.
‘I would very much like to track down this character, Marteinn Georg Kristjansson, known as Fat Matti. He’s a taxi driver and small-time criminal who we understand has been ferrying Strom/ Harde, whatever we decide to call him, around the country. Matti has disappeared and I’m concerned for his safety. I’m hoping that he hasn’t been quietly disposed of, as he may well be able to provide some information about Harde’s activities.’
Ivar Laxdal nodded. ‘I think the best we can do is to leave you to get on with it. Agreed?’ he asked, turning first to the Sheriff and then to Vilhjalmur before shoving his chair backwards as they all rose to their feet.
‘If you need anything, call me,’ he said as the door swung shut behind them.
‘Well done, sweetheart,’ Bjossi announced, breaking the silence and clapping his hands slowly. ‘Knocked ’em dead. Now what?’
Gunna sat down and felt her legs turn to jelly. ‘Snorri, I’d like you to start with a quick scout around Reykjavik and see if you can find Matti anywhere before we put out an alert for him. Bara, anything from Clean Iceland about Egill Grimsson and Einar Eyjolfur?’
‘Nothing concrete. Supposed to be meeting them this afternoon.’
‘All right,’ Gunna decided. ‘Keep to that, but let me know. Bara, would you check to see if Fat Matti’s taxi has been picked up anywhere and check all the flights as far back as you can for Strom or Harde? That’s it for now. I have to get back to Hvalvik for an hour and I’ll see you all here in . . .’ She craned her neck to see the clock on the wall. ‘In two hours.’
Reynir Oli scowled. Sometimes
‘Well? What do you have?’
Jonni looked sideways at her as Dagga took a deep breath.
‘ESC,’ she said.
Reynir Oli’s head jerked up, eyes wide. ‘What?’
‘Energy Supply Consultation.’
‘I know what it stands for,’ he snapped. ‘What’s the story?’
‘It’s to do with that Hvalvik aluminium project, the one that went quiet when National Power decided not to sell them electricity.’
Reynir Oli had recovered his composure, but had a nasty taste in his mouth and was sure that Jonni was scrutinizing him. He nodded slowly. ‘And?’
‘I understand that it’s about to be floated on the stock exchange now that it has a contract to supply InterAlu with electricity.’
‘And?’
‘ESC were granted a special concession as a public-private partnership to build an autonomous hydro-electric plant in the hills above Hvalvik, so they can dam the river there to produce electricity and supply it to InterAlu.’
‘Isn’t this just rumour?’ Reynir Oli asked. ‘Is this really a story that we can use?’
‘Good grief, man. If that isn’t a story, what is?’ Jonni exploded, pulling off his glasses and pointing them at Reynir Oli. ‘Public money used to set up a dodgy company that then gets floated while all the scumbags in the know get share options. They get a fat contract through some shady back-door deals with other government departments, side-stepping a state monopoly in the process, and the moment the contract with InterAlu becomes public knowledge, their share value will go through the roof.’
‘Channel Three’s already sniffing around it,’ Dagga added. ‘I don’t know how far they’ve got, but they’ll run it as soon as they can get a handle on the scam.’
Panic flashed behind Reynir Oli’s rimless glasses. ‘I need to see something absolutely cast-iron before we can run this,’ he said doubtfully. ‘Look, guys, we don’t want to upset too many people too early. So, look, er, keep this very discreet and, er, I’ll do some consultation. OK?’
Without pausing to listen to a reply, Reynir Oli was gone.
‘Like a scalded cat,’ Jonni observed with satisfaction. ‘Did you make that up about Channel Three being on to all this?’
Dagga nodded.
‘Master stroke. Excellent.’
Skuli looked from one to the other and back again. ‘Is all this true?’
‘Is what true?’ Dagga asked.
‘All that about ESC and InterAlu and Hvalvik?’
‘Absolutely,’ Jonni replied. ‘According to some of my finest unattributable sources of government gossip, our young lady here is right on the money.’
27
Thursday, 25 September
‘Seen him?’ Gunna demanded as soon as Snorri came in.
‘Not a whisper of him anywhere.’
‘Bloody man. Where the hell is he?’
‘No idea, chief. He’s just vanished.’
‘Right. Tell me where you went.’
Snorri sat down and opened his folder of notes, with everything carefully logged. His finger followed the trail down the page.
‘Started at the taxi ranks, Hafnarfjordur, Kopavogur, Grensas, then L?kjartorg, Tryggvagata, the usual places. No sign. Spoke to a few of the taxi drivers and nobody’s seen Fat Matti about. Then his flat, bedsit, whatever you call it. Ugly Tota — is she really called that?’
‘Ugly by name and ugly by nature. She used to be a terrible hell-raiser in her younger days, which weren’t that long ago. I’ve bundled her into the back of a squad car more than once.’
