Meltwater (Fire and Ice)

by Michael Ridpath

  ‘Of course. So what did you do at the top?’

  ‘We gawked. Nico told me some stuff about volcanoes. Then he and I went to look at a stream of lava flowing down over to the side. It had just started to snow.’ Erika was concentrating hard, making sure she told her story clearly. ‘I don’t know where the man came from. I didn’t see him at all, but Nico did. He shouted something like: “Hey!” I turned to see this guy swinging a rock towards my head. He would have hit me too if Nico hadn’t dived for his arm.’

  ‘Then what happened?’

  ‘The guy dropped the rock and jumped back. Nico lunged at him. Then Nico kind of jerked and gave a little cry of pain. Not a scream or anything. I saw his face; he looked surprised. Then he slid down to the ground and I saw the other guy was holding a knife. I’m sure Nico hadn’t seen it.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I screamed. And then I ran. I headed back around the rim. The guy was following me. I go running a lot, I’m pretty fit and I was really scared, so although the guy was catching me I managed to keep ahead of him. The visibility was really bad by this stage.

  ‘I saw Dieter and ran toward him. I tried to tell him what was going on. Then the guy who had stabbed Nico appeared through the snow. He saw us and came toward us holding out the knife.’

  Erika swallowed. ‘I could see Nico’s blood on it. Anyway, Dieter picked up a rock and squared up to him. I could tell Dieter was scared, but he’s big. Then Dúddi showed up and the guy with the knife disappeared back into the snow. I guess he figured three was too many to take on, even with a knife.’

  ‘Did you see where he went?’

  ‘No, he ran down the slope by the volcano, but I couldn’t see the cars at the bottom because of the poor visibility. So I don’t know what he did when he was down there. And I couldn’t hear either, with the noise of the volcano.’

  ‘What can you tell me about the guy? Was he young or old? Tall, small, fat, dark?’

  Erika hesitated. ‘Tallish. Fit and strong. Not a kid, but not middle-aged either. He was wearing a bright red jacket and the hood was up, but he had dark hair.’

  ‘Would you recognize him again?’

  ‘Probably not, no.’

  ‘Did he look like an Icelander?’

  ‘He wasn’t fair or red-headed, if that’s what you mean. But quite a lot of Icelanders have dark hair, don’t they? Come to think of it, his complexion was darker than most of them.’

  ‘Mediterranean? Asian? Indian?’

  ‘I don’t know. I said I didn’t see him clearly.’

  ‘But he definitely wasn’t one of your group?’

  Erika’s eyes flashed. ‘That’s a dumb question.’

  ‘I like to ask dumb questions,’ said Magnus calmly.

  Erika raised her eyebrows. ‘No, he definitely wasn’t one of our group. Bigger than most of them except Dieter, and I don’t think the others had red jackets. Of course he wasn’t one of our group.’

  ‘OK,’ said Magnus. ‘I understand. So what did you do then?’

  ‘We went back down to check out Nico. He was bleeding badly from the stomach. He was still alive when we got to him, but then . . .’ A tear ran down Erika’s cheek. She sniffed. Tried to say something and couldn’t. Fell silent.

  Magnus waited.

  ‘Then . . . then he wasn’t alive any more.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Magnus.

  ‘I studied medicine for years. I should have been able to do something to save him. But there was so much blood.’ She looked down at her hands, which were now washed clean, but there were brown stains on the cuffs of her sweater. And all over her coat, no doubt. ‘I tried to stanch it. But . . .’

  ‘Were you friends?’ Magnus asked gently.

  ‘Yes,’ said Erika. ‘Yes, we were. I’ve known him for a year or so. We’ve worked together on some projects.’

  ‘Stories?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Tell me a bit about him. He was a journalist?’

  ‘Not exactly. In fact he used to be a banker of some kind. Worked for a hedge fund in London trading oil futures or something. He said he was originally a geologist.’ Erika smiled. ‘That’s why he was so eager to see the volcano. Anyway, he gave up the hedge fund business a couple of years ago.’

  ‘To do what?’

  ‘I’m not sure, exactly. I know he had saved up some money. He was a bit of an idealist.’

  ‘Were you and he having a relationship?’ Magnus asked.

  ‘Oh, no,’ said Erika. ‘He’s married. Three small kids, I think. His family are in Milan now.’ She closed her eyes. ‘Someone’s going to have to tell his wife.’

  ‘Do you know her?’

  ‘Not well,’ said Erika. ‘Her name is Teresa. I stayed with them once in Italy. I have their address and phone number.’

  ‘If you give it to us, we can do it,’ Magnus said. ‘We’ll call her right away.’

  Erika smiled. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Did he have any enemies as far as you know?’

  ‘None that I know of. Nico didn’t make enemies. He was just a great guy. Big smile; nothing was too much trouble for him. You know, one of those people everyone loves.’

  ‘You’ll miss him,’ said Magnus softly.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Erika. ‘I’ll miss him.’ She took out a tissue and blew her nose. ‘I’m sorry. It’s been a rough night.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Magnus. ‘Yes, it has. Just a couple more questions. I don’t understand why Nico was in Iceland. If he wasn’t a journalist, I mean.’

  Erika pulled herself together. Looked Magnus straight in the eye. Too straight. ‘I told you. He knew about volcanoes.’

  ‘Yes, but he wasn’t an expert, was he?’ Magnus said. ‘I mean he’s not a, what do you call them, vulcanologist? Or is he?’

  ‘No. But he was a friend and he wanted to come.’

  ‘To help you with your article?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Magnus examined Erika. This wasn’t quite right. She was sitting up straight now, alert. She had been shattered a moment before. Something about his questions had caused her to raise her defences. To look him straight in the eye.

  ‘You say you are a journalist. So who do you write for?’

  ‘I’m freelance,’ Erika said.

  ‘What about the others out there?’

  ‘They are freelance too.’

  ‘I see. So who have you written for? Anyone I would have heard of?’

  ‘The Washington Post. The Chicago Tribune. A lot of online stuff.’

  ‘Online stuff?’

  Erika nodded.

  ‘So if I were to Google you, your name would come up?’

  Erika shrugged. ‘I guess.’

  There was a computer screen on the desk by Magnus in the interview room, but it was blank. Magnus turned to his colleague.

  ‘Árni, have you got that iPhone you’re always talking about?’

  ‘Right here.’

  ‘Can you Google Erika Zinn?’

  ‘Sure.’ Árni pulled out his little gadget and tapped. Erika watched Árni. Magnus watched Erika. He knew he was on to something.

  ‘Jesus,’ said Árni. Magnus saw Erika close her eyes. Árni handed the gadget to Magnus.

  Magnus tapped and scrolled, skimming the words on the tiny screen. ‘Tell me about Freeflow, Erika.’

  Erika didn’t reply.

  Magnus tapped on a link to Freeflow’s website. ‘That’s weird. Doesn’t seem to be the kind of site that would be interested in volcanoes. What’s this? African arms deals? Bribing Italian judges? Ah, Icelandic banks. But no volcanoes.’

  ‘You speak very good English.’

  ‘Freeflow?’

  ‘Are you sure you are not an American?’

  ‘I was born here,’ said Magnus. ‘But I have lived most of my life in Boston.’

  ‘And you?’ Erika asked Árni.

  ‘I went to college in the States,’ said Árni. ‘Indiana.’ Although Árni’s English was
good, his Icelandic accent was obvious, even in those few words.

  ‘OK,’ said Erika. ‘But what about you, Sergeant Jonson? What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m attached to the office of the National Police Commissioner,’ said Magnus.

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  Magnus frowned. The Icelanders were much less prone to waving their badges around than American cops, but that was clearly what was required. He pulled out his ID and slid it across the table to Erika. He had been made to do a six-month programme at the National Police College, and since graduating from there he had full status as a member of the Icelandic police.

  Erika picked it up, glanced at it and tossed it back on to the desk.

  ‘I don’t believe it.’

  ‘What do you mean, you don’t believe it?’

  ‘I’m involved in a murder on a mountain in the middle of Iceland. I get taken to some hick small town and who shows up to interview me? An American. Just where the hell did they find you?’

  Magnus fought to control his temper. ‘You’ve seen my ID, now answer my questions.’

  ‘You work for the CIA, don’t you?’

  ‘The CIA? You’re nuts!’

  ‘What happens next, you fly me out to Morocco or somewhere and interrogate me?’

  ‘Erika, I work for the Icelandic police. I am an Icelandic policeman. Now answer my questions.’

  ‘Or what? You’ll waterboard me? I want a real Icelandic policeman in here now. Someone with a uniform. In fact I’d like to speak to the chief superintendent. He must be in the building somewhere.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘I’m not being ridiculous. My lawyer will be here soon.’

  ‘Your lawyer?’

  ‘Yes. I have an Icelandic lawyer in Reykjavík. I called from the station. He’ll be here in a few minutes.’

  ‘Stay here!’ snapped Magnus. He left Árni with Erika and went to look for the chief superintendent. He was interviewing a small dark-haired woman with Vigdís.

  ‘Got a minute?’

  Kristján and Vigdís joined Magnus in the corridor. Magnus quickly explained about Erika, Freeflow, Erika’s suspicions that he was in the CIA and the lawyer.

  ‘Wait a moment,’ said Vigdís. ‘I remember seeing her on Silfur Egils last year. She was good.’

  ‘Did you let them make calls?’ Magnus asked Kristján.

  ‘Of course I did,’ said Kristján. ‘She’s a victim, not a suspect.’

  ‘Yeah, of course, sorry. What does the woman say? Is she the priest?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Vigdís. ‘Her name is Ásta. She hasn’t mentioned Freeflow. She says the foreigners were all there to report on the volcano.’

  ‘That’s bullshit,’ said Magnus. ‘We need to move fast, before the lawyer gets here. Kristján, is there a way of keeping the witnesses separate? I don’t want them talking to each other. Perhaps we can get one of the others to give us something.’

  ‘I can organize that.’

  ‘What is it?’ Magnus noticed the look of doubt in the chief superintendent’s eyes.

  ‘You don’t work for the CIA, do you?’

  ‘What kind of question is that?’ Magnus asked.

  ‘A good one,’ interrupted Vigdís. ‘Kristján, I’m sure you must have heard of Magnús. He caused a bit of a stir in Reykjavík last year. I’ve worked closely with him since he arrived last April, and I can assure you that he would make a really bad spy. But perhaps you should call the Police Commissioner as soon as he gets in in the morning?’

  Kristján hesitated, and then smiled. ‘I’ll do that. In the meantime, you are in charge of the investigation and I will help you as best I can. I’ll split the witnesses up now and then have a word with Erika myself.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Magnus. ‘And I’m sorry. Vigdís is right, you needed to be sure. OK, Vigdís, let’s talk to this priest. You never know, she might tell us the truth.’

  Magnus sat opposite the young woman, examining her. She looked more like a student than a minister, with her jeans and her young fresh face. An honest face – that was good. The clerical collar merely made her look more innocent.

  ‘So, Ásta, how long have you been a priest?’ Magnus asked.

  ‘Just over a year.’

  ‘And do you have a parish?’

  ‘Not at the moment, no. I did six months covering for a pastor on maternity leave in Mjódd last year, but since November, nothing.’ The woman smiled thinly. ‘It’s quite difficult to get a job these days, even for ordained priests.’

  Her voice was clear and authoritative.

  ‘So what is your connection with Freeflow?’

  Ásta paused. Her large blue eyes held Magnus’s. ‘It has nothing to do with the Church. I am just a volunteer.’

  ‘I see. And when did you first meet Erika Zinn?’

  ‘This afternoon. When I picked her up from the airport.’

  ‘And took her . . . where?’

  ‘To a house in Thórsgata that Freeflow are renting,’ Ásta replied carefully.

  ‘Tell me about Freeflow,’ Magnus said.

  ‘I don’t really know that much about them. I’ve never worked for them before. I believe they receive leaked information and make it available to the world. Information about corruption, human rights abuses, that kind of thing.’

  ‘And Erika Zinn is their leader?’

  ‘Effectively. I’m not sure that she calls herself that, but the others all look up to her.’

  ‘By the others, do you mean the people who went up the volcano with you? Are they all working for Freeflow?’

  Ásta hesitated, and then nodded.

  Magnus turned to Vigdís. ‘Did she tell you any of this about Freeflow?’

  ‘No,’ said Vigdís, staring at the priest. ‘No, she didn’t.’

  ‘Why not?’ Magnus asked Ásta.

  ‘She didn’t ask.’

  Magnus slammed his hand on the table. Ásta jumped. ‘Oh, come on. You’re not some schoolgirl caught smoking weed in the girls’ bathroom; this is a murder inquiry. Why did you lie?’

  ‘I didn’t actually lie.’

  ‘That’s semantics. You knew it was important and you didn’t tell us. Why not?’

  Ásta said nothing.

  ‘What is Freeflow working on at the moment? Why did they come to Iceland?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Ásta said. ‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you.’

  ‘Aren’t you supposed to tell the truth? You know, as a priest?’

  Ásta nodded. ‘But I am also supposed to respect confidences.’

  Magnus fought hard to contain his frustration. ‘Even when it protects a murderer? Someone killed Niccolò Andreose this evening. We don’t know why, but one line of inquiry has to be that it had something to do with whatever Freeflow is working on at the moment. We can find out. We’ll search this house on Thórsgata.’

  ‘Well, that’s what you will have to do,’ said Ásta calmly.

  Magnus had hoped that Ásta would prove to be a soft touch. But he could tell she was going to be stubborn when confronted directly. Increasing the pressure would just make her dig her heels in more deeply; a new tack was required. He glanced at Vigdís.

  ‘Are you willing to help us to find the killer?’ she asked.

  Ásta nodded.

  ‘OK. Then let’s go through what you did today from when you picked up Erika from the airport, but this time don’t leave anything out.’

  Ásta’s description of events was detailed and thorough, with the exception of what it was that Freeflow was actually planning to do in the house in Thórsgata; she deftly dodged Vigdís’s indirect questions around the subject.

  ‘Tell me some more about the snowmobilers,’ Magnus asked.

  ‘There were two of them. I saw their snowmobiles at the bottom about twenty metres from where we parked, and when we arrived they were up at the volcano. I think I saw them up at the rim when we got up there. Then they were gone.’

&nbs
p; ‘Did you see where they went? Did they follow Nico and Erika?’

  ‘No, I didn’t see. And they were on the other side of us – I mean Nico and Erika went off to the left and they were on the right.’

  ‘What about Franz? You say you lost track of him?’

  ‘Yes – I don’t remember seeing him at all when we went up the volcano. Dúddi was a little worried about him, until we got back to the car and found him there waiting for us.’

  ‘You didn’t see him talk to the snowmobilers?’

  ‘No. But he could have done. I mean the visibility was only clear for part of the time we were up there, and we were concentrating on the volcano.’

  ‘Do you know anything about Franz?’

  ‘No – I had never met him before today. He speaks good English, but he’s not a native speaker. Perhaps German?’

  Magnus smiled. ‘We’ll speak to him next. And the two people on the snowmobiles? Can you describe them?’

  Ásta thought hard. ‘I got a look at them when we were waiting in the car for the others and they were mounting their snowmobiles. They were wearing hats and ski jackets, so it was hard to see. Both men, for sure, one of them big with a bit of a belly. But I wouldn’t recognize them again.’

  ‘What about their ski jackets?’ asked Magnus. ‘What colour were they?’

  Ásta closed her eyes. ‘One of them I remember. Bright red. It was the bigger man. The other man I don’t remember.’

  Magnus smiled. ‘Thank you, that’s very helpful. Now tell me what happened after Dúddi told you about Nico.’

  Ásta was just about to answer when she was interrupted by a commotion outside in the corridor. Magnus opened the door to take a look. A tall silver-haired man with a pointed chin was in a heated discussion with Kristján. He was wearing jeans and a smart black jacket and sported a nice tan, unusual in Icelanders in April.

  ‘I want to see my client,’ the man was saying.

  ‘I’m sorry, we are interviewing her at the moment.’

  ‘Is she a suspect?’ the man asked.

  The door opened behind Kristján and Erika appeared. ‘Viktor!’ she said in English. ‘Boy, am I glad to see you.’

  ‘What’s going on here?’ Viktor asked.

  ‘Nico has been killed, up on the volcano. I was with him – it was horrible. I told the police what happened, and then they suddenly started asking me a lot of questions about Freeflow. Especially that one.’ She nodded towards Magnus. ‘He’s American. CIA would be my guess.’