Cold Steal

by Quentin Bates

  ‘Geirsmörk.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Where’s that?’

  ‘Borgarnes is that way,’ Bjarni said, a hand waving towards the door.

  ‘I passed a place called Brekka yesterday, I think. Or maybe the day before.’

  ‘You were a long way up.’

  ‘I don’t know where I was. I’ve been walking for days. I’m not sure how many.’

  ‘I know,’ Helga Dís sang out. ‘We gave you a bit of a scrub yesterday and put you to bed. I’ll bet your feet are sore, aren’t they? How far have you walked?’

  ‘I really don’t know.’

  ‘It must have been a distance if you passed Brekka?’

  ‘I was at a place with a hill behind it shaped like a loaf of bread, with a lot of fish in drying racks next to it.’

  Bjarni cracked his knuckles. ‘Sounds like you must have been at Vatnsendi. It’s not that far from here across country, but the road goes the long way round to get there. How the hell did you get all the way up there? Hardly anybody goes there from one year’s end to the next.’

  ‘And all that dried fish?’

  ‘It’s been there a few years now. I think they must have forgotten it’s there. Anyway, if that’s what you were eating, then you really are very fortunate to be alive.’

  Jóhann sat in silence for a moment, digesting what he had heard as cups and plates clinked on the table.

  ‘You don’t have a phone here, do you?’

  ‘We’re out of range. Even the radio reception isn’t that good up here.’

  ‘Oh. Is there any chance of being able to get to town?’

  ‘Not now,’ Bjarni said. ‘It’s dark and you’ll be in no condition to go anywhere until the morning.’

  ‘Explain, Gunnhildur.’ Ívar Laxdal scowled and shook his head. ‘But sit down, you’re making me nervous pacing up and down like that.’

  ‘It’s a drugs operation.’

  ‘What is? And how have you figured this out?’

  ‘I haven’t figured it all out,’ Gunna said, sitting uncomfortably. ‘Just the outline of it all, Maris cracked when I asked him a few uncomfortable questions and mentioned having him sent to a Latvian prison.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘It’s a speed factory. Maris was here to make dope. His family got into some serious debt a few years ago and the only way they could pay it off was by him agreeing to work for the same people who were doing the loan sharking. Vison is financed by this character in Latvia, Boris Vadluga, and it’s a pretty clever operation. The speed is made in Iceland, which is what Maris was doing. Alex works at the transport company . . .’

  ‘Green Bay Dispatch,’ Eiríkur put in.

  ‘Exactly, Green Bay, which was about to go bankrupt a year ago, when Boris Vadluga stepped in and bought two thirds of the company. Alex collects the fish that’s being air freighted to Europe, and he replaces the cold-gel packs in the boxes of fillets with sealed bags the same colour.’

  ‘But packed with amphetamines?’ Ívar Laxdal suggested.

  ‘Exactly. Iceland’s the perfect place to smuggle something out of. You’d expect drugs shipments from southern Europe or the Middle East. But Iceland? So the fish boxes hardly get looked at and Maris said they’ve been careful to ship their gear only with every third or fourth consignment – so far as they haven’t been producing big amounts.’

  ‘But they’re planning to?’ Eiríkur said excitedly. ‘Vison? The fur farm?’

  ‘That seems clear enough. The place even has a lab of its own for quality control. They were producing this stuff in the basement at Kópavogsbakki fifty, but it was too small and too close to people who would notice the smell sooner or later. So that was packed up, the place was painted from top to bottom, and they moved out, leaving it pristine.’

  ‘Except that the cleaners found that someone had broken in and stumbled across more than he’d bargained for, you mean?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  ‘So who killed Vilhelm Thorleifsson? Where’s the missing dentist? Who murdered Alex? Fair enough, you’ve found a dope factory. Let’s hand that over to narcotics to deal with and concentrate on the two dead people and three missing ones, shall we?’

  ‘It all ties in together. If the drug squad bust them now then everything’s wide open and my guess is that we’ll never find the killers. In any case, there’s nothing to bust. The dope lab at Kópavogsbakki is gone. We might find a few traces if we strip the paint off the floor, but I wouldn’t bank on it, and the new lab they’re setting up under cover of the mink farm isn’t a speed factory yet.’

  Ívar Laxdal rubbed his chin. The rhythmic rasp of the back of his hand against his chin was like sandpaper on a wooden floor. Gunna thought he looked deeply tired for the first time since they had started to work together almost three years ago.

  ‘All right, Gunnhildur. How do you want to do this?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she fretted. ‘The last definite sighting we have of Alex was leaving his girlfriend’s house fairly early on Sunday morning. After that we have nothing to go on, and my best guess is that he was dumped in those foundations on Sunday night, as the construction team was there to start work early on Monday morning.’

  ‘Could he have been put in there on Monday?’ Ívar Laxdal asked.

  ‘No. They put a layer of concrete at the bottom of the trench on Monday.’

  ‘Without noticing the body at the bottom?’

  ‘It was dark at that time of the morning and I don’t suppose they make a habit of checking for corpses before they throw concrete down there. I suppose it wouldn’t have been that hard to hide the body with a layer of earth or gravel. No, Alex was murdered on Sunday, and he must have been disposed of by someone who knew the trench was going to be filled in the next morning.’

  ‘Sunna María?’

  ‘You see her with a cosh and a black mask? She wouldn’t do anything that might risk laddering her tights. I don’t get the feeling she’s exactly giving us bullshit, but she’s evading a lot of questions and there’s a whole load of stuff that she’s not telling us. I want to know why Alex? He was fencing stolen goods, almost as a hobby it seems, and he was a cog in the delivery part of the speed business. So why kill him?’

  Gunna was out of her chair, smacking one fist into the palm of the other hand. Ívar Laxdal watched her pace to and fro while Eiríkur stood by the door.

  ‘Alex had made a mistake, maybe?’ Ívar Laxdal suggested.

  ‘More than likely, but what? And how do Sunna María and Jóhann slot into the puzzle? Why has Jóhann vanished? Is he dead as well? Who’s next on the list? What about this other joker who seems to have vanished off the face of the earth and who the combined police forces of northern Europe can’t find?’

  ‘Elvar?’

  ‘That’s him. Has someone already bumped him off, or is he the next body we’re going to stumble across?’

  ‘You think there’s more to come?’

  ‘Don’t you?’ Gunna shot back. ‘What’s going on here? Is this a turf war between Boris Vadluga’s Latvian operation and some local criminals? That doesn’t strike me as likely as we’d have heard the rumblings for a while by now. Or are we watching some old scores being settled?’ She stopped and her hands dropped to her sides. ‘On top of that we have Sævaldur’s burglar in another interview room, and I know perfectly well he’s involved in all this, but he’s keeping his trap firmly shut. Any ideas? Because I’m running out.’

  ‘Arrest everyone connected to this and bring them in?’ Eiríkur suggested.

  ‘We hold them for twenty-four hours and then let them go again? No, we may as well just tell them to hide every scrap of evidence and shred their bank statements right away. Ívar, you tell me. It’s your investigation,’ Gunna said. ‘Do you want to keep them under surveillance until the dope factory is up and running and then let narcotics grab the whole lot of them red-handed, assuming we haven’t scared them off already? That means a pat on the back all round. Or do you want t
o push these people hard right now and hope it leads to the killers before they kill someone else?’

  Steini yawned and laid aside his book.

  ‘Any good?’ Gunna asked, looking up from the television.

  ‘Last year’s Arnaldur. Not bad at all.’

  ‘I thought you’d already read that one?’

  ‘That was the one before. This one’s better. You’ve had a tough day?’

  ‘Not the easiest day’s work I’ve ever had, but I’ll manage,’ Gunna said, lifting her feet onto the edge of the table and stretching. ‘How about you? A boiler suit in the washing basket tells me you’ve been doing something dirty.’

  ‘The perils of living with a detective. There’s not much gets past you, is there, Sherlock? We got the engine on the Ísborg running this afternoon, so Svenni’s a happy man now.’

  ‘How long has it taken? Three months?’

  ‘That’s what comes of having an antique engine. He had to get the spares from a scrap yard in Denmark.’

  He hauled himself to his feet and padded to the kitchen, returning with two bowls.

  ‘As you’ve been busy, I thought I’d do you a little treat.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be after something, would you, young man?’

  Steini laughed. ‘Young. I like that. No, pure altruism on my part.’

  ‘Just the goodness of your heart? What a man,’ Gunna said, taking the bowl and a spoonful of the fruit salad with a generous lump of ice cream on it. ‘Not good for the waistline, though.’

  ‘We can’t have you wasting away, can we?’

  ‘There’s no danger of that,’ Gunna grunted, dropping her feet to the floor and sitting up straight. ‘Steini, you picked up Gísli the other day. What did he have to say?’

  ‘He’s on your mind, isn’t he?’

  ‘Rather more than the case I’m working on,’ Gunna admitted. ‘I’m his mother. I can’t not be worried about him.’

  ‘You think I hadn’t noticed?’

  ‘Touché, Sherlock.’

  Steini nibbled at a wafer. ‘He’s worried, as you can imagine. He did ask about you and I told him the truth.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Like you said, you’re his mum. You can be as pissed off as hell with him, but you’re still his mum.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘It’s about time you two made peace, don’t you think? I know you’re as hard-headed as each other, but it’s affecting everyone else. Laufey’s walking on eggshells because she doesn’t want to say the wrong thing and upset you, Gísli’s lost his way because you’re hardly speaking to him and Drífa’s nervous around you as well.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘You’re not as much fun as you used to be, but I’m older and a little more patient than the youngsters, so I can recognize that we’ll have the Gunna we know and love back soon enough.’

  ‘Ever the optimist. Keep up the treats and she’ll be back before you know it, especially if we catch this devious bastard before too long.’

  ‘Difficult case?’

  ‘Horrible. Some very unpleasant people, as well as mister über-chauvinist chief inspector Sævaldur Bogason, who is in the running to be the least pleasant of the lot. I’ll call Gísli in the morning and see if we can meet in town for a change, away from the various girlfriends and offspring.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Orri rubbed his eyes as Gunna flipped the peephole cover to wink at him. The warder opened the door.

  ‘You don’t need to lock us in,’ Gunna said as the door swung to behind her. ‘Orri’s not going to do anything stupid.’

  Orri sat up with the duvet wrapped around him and blinked.

  ‘Been in here before have you?’ Gunna asked. ‘Breakfast will be along in a minute.’

  ‘I’m going to Litla Hraun today, am I?’

  ‘I expect so. You’ve not been there before?’

  Orri snorted through his nose and rubbed his eyes.

  ‘I have, actually. Visited both my parents there at one time or another. Not at the same time,’ he added. ‘But I’ve never been a prisoner, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘You’ll be all right. Keep your nose clean and I don’t suppose you’ll be there long.’ Gunna sat down on the bunk next to him. ‘Now, before the lawyers turn up and before my colleagues get here, strictly between you and me,’ she said. ‘You have something to tell me.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Orri said slowly. ‘I’ve been thinking about it all night.’

  ‘And you still want to talk? It’s up to you.’

  ‘Will it help my case?’

  ‘I can’t say, and it depends what you want to tell me. But I don’t imagine it would do any harm.’

  ‘Right,’ Orri said and yawned. ‘Is there any coffee?’

  ‘On the way. You’re the notorious Reykjavík housebreaker, aren’t you?’

  ‘Could be.’

  ‘Come on. If you’re going to play hard to get, then I’m wasting my time.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Orri grunted. ‘That’s me. Been doing it about two years now.’

  ‘You’ve not done a bad job of it. No prints, no traces. You’ve been very careful, haven’t you? But you realize your career’s at an end now?’

  Orri looked blank.

  ‘My colleague Sævaldur has been running around the city like a headless chicken for the last year trying to track you down. So you can bet your last penny that whenever there’s a burglary in the next ten years, he’ll be knocking on your door. You broke in at Kópavogsbakki fifty. What happened? Where did the blood come from?’

  ‘I was taken by surprise,’ Orri said slowly. ‘There was someone there with a gun. I was tied up and questioned. Honestly, I thought they were going to kill me.’

  ‘Was this one person?’

  ‘I think it was two. I can’t be sure. One of them did the talking, in English. Then I could hear them muttering to each other, so I guess there were two of them.’

  ‘Did you see either of them?’

  ‘No.’ Orri hesitated. ‘I just heard the voice, that’s all.’

  ‘Nothing that could identify these people?’

  ‘Just a voice in English, with an accent. He didn’t sound like he was English or American.’

  ‘Russian? Scandinavian? An Icelander, maybe?’

  ‘Could be. I couldn’t tell.’

  ‘And what was this questioning all about.’

  ‘They wanted me to work for them,’ he muttered.

  ‘Work for them? In what way?’

  ‘Breaking into places and planting bugging devices.’

  ‘Good grief? And they paid you for this?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ Orri lied. ‘But they told me they knew where I live, where Lísa lives and where my sister and her kids live, so I didn’t dare say no. Now I’ve told you, and if they find out we’re all going to need protection.’

  ‘Where did you plant bugs?’

  ‘There was an office in Kópavogur, near Hamraborg. I can’t remember what it’s called, but I could find it. There was a house in the Thingholt district and there was that bikers’ place in Gardabær.’

  ‘They wanted a bug in the Undertakers’ clubhouse? You’re kidding.’

  Orri shrugged. ‘It’s there. It’s hidden in the electrical conduit in their boardroom.’

  ‘That’s all?’

  ‘No. There was a place up past Mosfellsbær, a farm of some kind. I don’t know what it is, but it’s out in the country.’

  ‘Vison?’

  ‘I don’t know. I put a bug in the office ceiling there. There were a whole lot of metal cages in the long room there.’

  The door swung open and a warder walked in carrying a tray.

  ‘Breakfast,’ he announced, handing it to Orri, who placed it on his knees, still keeping the duvet wrapped around him like a cloak.

  ‘And definitely no idea who these guys are?’ Gunna asked as Orri sipped his coffee.

  He shook his head. ‘Well,’ he said after a momen
t.

  ‘Well, what?’

  ‘I think I saw one of them, but I’m not sure, a day or two before.’

  ‘Where? At the same house?’

  ‘No, further up the street. The one where the dentist lives.’

  ‘How do you know it’s the dentist’s house?’ Gunna asked.

  ‘I do my homework carefully,’ Orri replied. ‘They live at Kópavogsbakki forty-two and own a couple more houses in the same street. I saw a man go in there who definitely wasn’t the dentist, and I was there again later and the same guy was screwing the dentist’s wife up against the wall.’

  Gunna fumbled in her coat pocket and came up with the photograph of the hook-nosed man.

  ‘Him?’

  ‘That’s the guy,’ Orri said with the first hint of a smile on his morose face. ‘But listen, you didn’t hear any of this from me, and if you ask about it again, I’ll deny every word.’ He tapped the photograph with one finger. ‘Unless that guy’s locked up as well.’

  Jóhann hung on for dear life, his arms wrapped around Helga Dís, pressing himself close to her as they shuddered and vibrated.

  ‘All right, are you?’ she yelled.

  He could only nod his head in reply. His arms were still weak. Sitting on the back of the quad bike, he held on tight as the wheels transmitted every pothole and lump in the road straight through his spine to the back of his head. He sighed with relief as the bike finally hit the main road and he could see cars and signs of civilization around him.

  Helga Dís seemed to drive more slowly on the better roads, but he decided that had to be an illusion. He recognized the hills, and with relief realized that Borgarnes was closer than he’d imagined. As they by-passed the cluster of shops and filling stations, the rain began to come down hard, drops bouncing off the visor of the helmet he had borrowed from Bjarni as they rolled into the town.

  ‘I’d better come in with you,’ Helga Dís said, looking behind her when they stopped outside the police station.

  Jóhann dismounted stiffly and she helped him off with the helmet. Helga Dís carried both helmets in one hand and took his arm with the other, supporting him through the door. Jóhann was surprised and frustrated at how weak he was after his experience. He wanted to sit down but leaned instead against the reception desk.