Outside the large detached house that was Kaja Jóakims’s destination, he mumbled as he fiddled with the meter.
‘Four thousand,’ he said.
‘Discount for old times’ sake?’ Kaja Jóakims asked shyly.
‘Already included,’ Matti muttered.
With notes in his hand, he lumbered from the car and opened the boot to retrieve their cases, while a young woman emerged from the house and embraced his passengers in turn. He was quickly back at the wheel and ready to go when he noticed that the young woman and Kaja Jóakims bore an uncanny resemblance.
‘See you later, Matti,’ she cooed and waved as he drove away, swearing out loud now that he had an empty cab and more than half an hour to kill.
‘Kaja Jóakims a grandmother,’ he grumbled to himself. ‘Who’d have thought it?’
He cruised slowly into Kópavogur with the For Hire sign off and parked in the centre to get a coffee and a roll from a bakery. He ate it outside, resting his rear end on the car’s bonnet and enjoying the warmth of it. He reflected that half an hour to kill was actually just long enough for a snack between fares. It was a shame that the weather was wet and there was a shortage of young women in thin summer clothes about to improve the view.
Hell, you can’t have everything, he decided and his mood darkened as he remembered that Hardy needed to be collected and probably didn’t know that his victim was now a dead man.
Outside modest offices sandwiched between the tiny Kópavogur harbour and a yard where bulldozers roared constantly as they filled trucks with sand and gravel, Matti pulled up a minute before he was expected, just in time to see Hardy shaking hands with a beefy man who looked as if he was still wearing the suit he had been confirmed in. He watched them exchange a few final words, smile at each other and part.
‘Good afternoon, big man. Right on time, I see,’ Hardy said with a shadow of a smile as he settled himself in the taxi’s passenger seat.
‘Part of the job, being on time,’ Matti grunted. ‘Where to?’
‘Hverfisgata, by the bus station will do.’
‘The one by the police station?’
‘That’s the one.’
They drove through the city in silence, Hardy with his hands folded as he admired the view. Matti hunched over the wheel, wondering whether or not to tell him what he had heard on the news. By the time they reached the city bus station, he had decided to keep quiet for the moment.
‘What’s the matter, big man? Seen a ghost?’ Hardy asked cheerfully.
‘Could be,’ Matti replied. ‘D’you need me tomorrow?’
‘Not sure yet. Might need you at short notice.’
‘Yeah, that’s OK. I’ll be on the rank tomorrow. Won’t be going far, so just give me a call if you need me.’
Hardy nodded and slipped silently from the car. Instead of driving away, Matti picked up a stack of receipts from the pocket in the door and pretended to look at them, watching Hardy in the mirror as he receded from view. As soon as he was far enough away, Matti dropped his paperwork and craned his neck around in time to see Hardy step quickly sideways into an alley.
Matti gunned the taxi’s engine, swung it round in an illegal U-turn and bumped it down an entrance into the parking lot belonging to a block of offices. In the corner he killed the engine, jumped out and vaulted over a low fence into a yard, then along an alleyway into Lindargata. He was just in time to see Hardy disappear round another corner, doubling back on himself.
Matti retraced his steps and found himself puffing with more than exertion going uphill. He couldn’t understand why Hardy had walked in a circle until he was back in the parking lot next to the taxi and caught a glimpse of his pale leather jacket as he punched a code into the lock on the back door and let himself in.
‘Shit. Should have bloody known better,’ he cursed.
Matti wasn’t sure if Hardy had seen him on his heels, but he was sure that he would have seen the taxi parked there. As he took his place behind the wheel, he wondered what Hardy was doing in a block of offices that housed a Christian radio station, several lawyers, a photographer’s studio and a hypnotic healer.
But what really concerned him now was how Hardy would react if he suspected he was being tailed, however inexpertly — and whether or not Hardy had actually seen him.
20
Thursday, 18 September
‘Gunnhildur,’ Gunna replied, picking up the phone on its fourth ring.
‘Hi, it’s Skúli. Just wanted a quick word if that’s OK?’
Gunna leaned back in her chair and stopped herself yawning. ‘I’m off out in a minute, so it will have to be a quick word.’
‘Fine,’ Skúli gabbled. ‘I’m just after an update on the Einar Eyjólfur Einarsson case. Is there anything new?’
‘Why are you asking?’
‘Y’know, just keeping on top of things.’
‘As a conscientious newshound should.’
‘That’s right. Is there anything?’
Gunna wondered where Skúli’s sudden interest had come from.
‘Progress is being made, young man, but that’s all I can tell you,’ she replied guardedly.
‘And off the record, is the guy you’ve charged the right one?’
‘You’re not recording this, are you?’
‘No, of course not, off the record.’
‘Skúli, over the phone, everything has to be on the record. If you want an informal chat, you’ll have to come out here,’ she replied.
‘Oh. OK. But that’s all you can say?’
‘That’s all I can tell you right now. Progress is being made. A man has been charged with a related offence, but you know that already.’
‘Yeah, but he hasn’t been charged with the murder, has he?’
‘All I can tell you is that a man has been in custody and has now been bailed and that he is helping with inquiries. If you want a cosy chat, it’ll have to be face to face.’
She could sense his disappointment through the crackling phone line.
‘Have you seen Skandalblogger’s latest?’ Skúli asked suddenly.
‘What’s that?’
‘Come on. Surely you must have seen the Skandalblog?’
‘No, I’m afraid I haven’t. We’re a bit behind the times out here in the backwoods, you know.’
‘I think you ought to have a look. Is your computer running?’
‘Now? No, just switched off. I have to be in Reykjavík in half an hour.’
‘Will you have a look when you get back? I’ll email you the link if you like?’
‘All right. You do that, if you think it’s important.’
‘OK. I really think you need to see this. I’ll do it right now, and I’ll call you back later, unless you have time to meet, since you’re on your way over here anyway?’
‘I’ll have to wait and see how long I spend sitting around at Hverfisgata. You can call my mobile around three if you like, and we’ll see then. OK?’
‘So that’s official, then? It stinks?’
‘Absolutely reeks, dear girl.’
Jonni and Dagga were hunched over her laptop perched on a tall table at a café not far from Dagurinn’s offices.
‘It’s a real story,’ Dagga mused. ‘Something that would make some waves.’
Jonni sipped his lukewarm coffee. ‘A homegrown Icelandic scandal of the kind that we’ve seen so many times before.’
‘Meaning?’
‘It goes on all the time, but nobody talks about it. It’s well-connected people cashing in on their connections. Look, this company, what’s it called?’
‘ESC, Energy Supply Consultation.’
‘Or whatever they’re called. It’s been done before and there’s nothing new about it. You set up a state-owned company with taxpayers’ money, let it run quietly for a good while without actually doing much or letting anyone notice, until it becomes part of the scenery. With me so far?’
Dagga nodded.
‘That’s the
easy part. Then comes the trickier bit. Privatization is king, so eventually the company is privatized, sold off.’
‘Understood. So what’s wrong with that?’
‘It’s basically a form of insider trading, the whole thing set up in advance with some decent government contracts, a healthy injection of cash — yours and mine, I might add. Then it floats and there’s an influx of cash and you go to the bank and they’ll match it and maybe a good bit more. The whole thing is boosted, there’s a scramble for stock in the company, so you and your mates who bought into it on the cheap can sell and make a killing, or sit on it and hope for a bigger killing later. Bingo, it’s pay-day.’
‘OK,’ Dagga said slowly. ‘Unethical, but illegal?’
‘Does it matter?’ Jonni leaned back and gazed out at the rain with the satisfied look on his face of a man who has already done enough work before lunch to allow him a relaxed afternoon.
‘Of course it matters. It’s in the public interest, surely?’ Dagga asked.
‘Certainly. The public absolutely, definitely should know.’
‘So, are we going to tell them?’
Jonni shrugged. ‘Dear girl, you don’t know the half of it yet. Go on, join the dots.’
‘All right,’ she sighed. ‘ESC is due to be floated on the stock exchange. The people who have share options grab and sell, making a fat profit.’
Jonni leaned forward, unwittingly planting his elbow in a puddle of cold coffee. ‘Now, who stands to gain?’
‘The people with share options.’
‘Who are?’
‘There’s plenty of them.’
Jonni stretched and upended the remains of his coffee down his throat. ‘It’s not that simple. If you like, you can go to Reynir Óli and tell him you have a cracking story about government corruption at the highest level, with a minister presiding over the selling off of state assets to a coterie of selected friends, or even himself, come to that, and see what happens.’
‘Come on, Jonni. Tell me. I’ll be your best friend.’
Jonni sighed and stood up. Dagga closed her laptop and stowed it away in her bag.
‘Just follow the money.’
‘OK,’ Dagga replied slowly. ‘Come on, tell me more.’
‘Who owns Dagurinn?’
‘There are several owners.’
Jonni shoved open the door and they emerged into the street. He buttoned his coat and shivered. It was cold for late summer.
‘Yeah. But who’s the big boy?’ he asked, ploughing through puddles while Dagga stepped from side to side to avoid them and tried to keep up with Jonni’s pace.
‘Rich Golli, Ingólfur Hrafn Ormsson. Does he have a stake in this as well?’
‘Dagga, my dear. Rich Golli has fingers in financial pies everywhere. I have no idea if Our Glorious Leader has an interest in ESC, but you can be pretty sure that he has friends who have, and he’s unlikely to want to piss them off, unless, of course, there’s a grudge he wants to get off his chest. Hard to say.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘Up to you. Take it to Reynir Óli and see what happens, if you like.’
‘Jonni, if it’s such a good story, why aren’t you following this one yourself?’ Dagga asked suspiciously.
A grin began at the corner of Jonni’s mouth and spread slowly across as his face lit up.
‘Excellent, Dagga. Now you’re thinking like a real journalist, cynical and suspicious,’ he said, angling forward the elbow of his right arm for her to put a hand through it. ‘You shouldn’t imagine that your old uncle Jonni doesn’t have something up his sleeve. When you’ve given Reynir Óli a shock that’ll give him palpitations, I’m going to give him a shock that might well put him in intensive care.’ He smiled slyly. ‘Intrigued?’
‘Of course I am.’
‘Don’t worry. It’ll come out soon enough. Come on, let’s get out of the bloody rain.’
***
It had already been a long night and Matti began to doze until he heard knuckles rap on the roof of the car above his head. He opened his eyes, opened them even wider when he realized what he was looking up at, and wondered if they would go away if he were to let his eyelids slide down again.
Knowing they wouldn’t, he wound the window down an inch.
‘Jæja, Matti. Haven’t seen you for a while. How’ve you been keeping?’
‘Gunna. What’ve you got to say for yourself?’
He looked in the mirror to see a young policeman step back and get into the squad car parked right behind his taxi, while Gunna walked around and opened the passenger door to drop herself carefully into the seat beside him.
‘Well, cousin Matti. How’s tricks?’
‘Cousin Gunna,’ Matti said stiffly in mock formality. ‘What have I done to deserve this honour?’
‘Not sure yet. Maybe I was just wondering why I’m not on your Christmas card list any more.’
‘So this is just a family visit? Who’s dead?’
‘Matti, this isn’t a family matter, unfortunately. What have you been up to this time?’
‘Look, I’ve been keeping out of trouble and I’d prefer it if the police could leave me in peace, like the Reykjavík crowd do at the moment. What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were out to pasture in Hvalvík now?’
It was a bright day and sunshine sparkled between banks of cumulo-nimbus that idly threatened to rain on the opera house construction site opposite and the squat black mass of the Central Bank building. Matti had turned into the half-empty parking lot to take a quick nap before going back to the taxi rank across the road. He liked to be close to the harbour, even though it accommodated more cruise ships than trawlers these days.
‘Just checking up on you. Had an inkling that you might be involved in something slightly shady on my patch, so we decided to have a look round and see if you had time for a quiet chat.’
Matti scowled. ‘I’m busy. I’m working.’
‘You were snoring.’
‘Just resting my eyes. But now I have to get back to the rank. This is a working taxi and I have bills to pay. Nonni isn’t running a charity, y’know.’
‘Come on, Matti. Let’s keep this friendly, shall we? If needs be, we can go to the station.’
Gunna could almost sense the cogs ticking over in Matti’s mind as he stared through the windscreen at the queue of lunchtime traffic idling impatiently at the lights.
‘All right, then. I’ve got ten minutes, then I need to be back on the rank.’
‘Tell me about March, will you? Were you working?’
‘That was bloody months ago!’ Matti exploded.
‘The ninth of March. Where were you then?’
‘How the hell should I remember that far back? Of course I was working, busy time of the year, that was, before everything started to go quiet.’
Matti’s fingers fidgeted in his lap, thumbs circling each other nervously. He fumbled in the pocket of the car door and shook a cigarette from its packet.
‘Open the windows if you’re going to light up, will you?’ Gunna asked sharply.
‘Yeah. Nothing like an ex-smoker, is there?’ Matti retorted even more sharply, lighting up and blowing smoke out of the now wide open window.
‘March, Matti. What were you up to?’
‘Hell, I don’t know. Ferrying drunks around in this thing, probably.’
‘All right,’ Gunna said in her calmest voice. ‘I’ll jog your memory. What was this taxi doing in Sandeyri on the ninth of March?’
If Gunna hadn’t been looking directly at him, she would have missed seeing Matti’s eyes bulge slightly for a moment.
‘Er. Might have had a fare. I can’t remember. I go all over, I’m often out there round the airport.’
‘All right,’ Gunna said calmly. ‘Let’s jog your memory a bit further, shall we?’ From her jacket pocket she extracted fresh printouts of the webcam pictures that Snorri had obtained, unfolded them carefully and passed them across to Matti, w
ho held them up, shaking his head as he did so.
‘Nope, sorry. Can’t see the number. Not my taxi.’
‘It’s your taxi. It’s the only Mercedes taxi of this model in the entire country. And if you look carefully at that second picture, you’ll see the dent in the wing that you got from a scrape with a yuppie’s caravan on Snorrabraut last summer, which you still haven’t bothered to get fixed.’
‘Yeah, well. It’s Nonni’s car, so it’s his problem. He can get it fixed.’
Matti’s phone squawked. He picked it up and squinted to read the incoming number before stabbing at the phone to reject the call.
‘So. That night in March. Tell me about it.’
‘Look, Gunna, I remember now I had a day off and Nonni let one of the other lads take this car out that night. It was my birthday. I had a night off and a couple of drinks.’
‘Cousin Matti, don’t try to bamboozle me. I know perfectly well your birthday’s in September and with you there’s no such thing as a couple of drinks. It’s a week or nothing.’
‘Hell, Gunna,’ Matti groaned. ‘Get off my back, will you? I’ve got to get back to work.’
‘When you tell me what this is all about.’
‘Look. It’s nothing illegal, all right? A bit dodgy, maybe, but nothing bad. OK?’
‘Tell me more.’
‘OK, OK. Look, sometimes I take ladies for a drive. They want a ride and I don’t ask what they do when they get there. This one wanted to go to Sandeyri. I dropped her off outside the shop and picked her up there a bit later. Don’t know where she went and what she did there is her business.’
‘And I assume it was business?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t ask and I don’t get told lies. All right?’
Gunna flipped open a notebook and wrote down a few lines, more to add to Matti’s discomfort than to aid her own memory. ‘And this, er, lady’s name?’
‘No idea. Like I said, I don’t ask.’
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