Chilled To The Bone Part 28

'To be straight with you, I'm not entirely sure myself,' Gunna told him. 'In any case, there's only so much I can tell you. But this address has come up in connection with an investigation and I need to decide whether or not it has anything to do with you, or maybe whoever lived here before you. How long have you been here?'

'About a year. Just over. We moved in a few days before Christmas last year.'

'And who lived here before you?'

Petur smiled grimly. 'Hard to tell. The place had been empty for about two years. It was owned by a big shot at one of the banks, who was going to tear the place down and have a summer house built on the site. But he didn't get planning permission and by the time it looked like he might, the bank had gone t.i.ts-up and the gentleman in question left the country in a hurry.'

'So who's the owner now?'

'It went to one of the pension funds in the fallout. One of Hekla's uncles is involved with the bank's winding-up committee and he put in a word. We can stay until it sells, however long that takes.'

'So there's been n.o.body here but you?'

'I don't really know. There's a scout troop that camps on the meadow in the summer, and there were some squatters here for a while when the big shot owned the place, but that was before our time. I gather he got them out pretty quick. It was something of a pigsty when we moved in. Part of our agreement with the winding-up committee is that we fix the place up and make it habitable, not that there was much that needed doing. The house itself was fine. It just needed a ma.s.sive amount of cleaning.'

'So you fell on your feet. Your wife at home, is she?'

'She has a day's work today.'

'What does she do?'

Petur smiled fondly. 'She trained as an actress, but times are tight these days. Mostly she does voice-overs and things like that. She's reading something for a radio ad today, as far as I know.'

Gunna nodded. 'Mind if I take a look around?'

Petur looked surprised. 'Sure. Anything in particular you're looking for?' he asked, suspicion etched across his face.

'I don't know, to be quite honest. But as this address has come up as part of the investigation, I'd like to get a feel for the place and an idea of the layout in case things go any further.'

'And you can't tell me what all this is about?'

'I'm afraid not,' Gunna smiled, seeing the disappointment on his face as Petur made for the workshop door, swinging his stiff right leg with each step.

The house was small but warm, she thought, imagining what it had been like after a few empty years. Petur had sanded and varnished the floor of the living room and a large window provided a view over the sea, with Reykjavik in the distance across the bay. Unconsciously, Gunna compared the warmth of what was clearly an old building against her own modern concrete terraced house. Somehow wood gave a house a friendly feeling, she thought, scanning a line of pictures on the living-room wall and stopping herself from doing a double take.

'Is that your daughter?' Gunna asked, pointing to a teenage girl in a low-key monochrome print, who looked to be hiding behind long dark hair that covered half of her face as she sat cross-legged, flanked by a gap-toothed, light-haired boy and girl.

'That's my Sif with the twins,' Petur told her, pride unmistakable in his gruff voice.

'And you and your wife behind them?' Gunna asked, leaning forward to peer at the print and the slightly out-of-focus background figures. 'Any idea when she'll be back?'

'This evening sometime, I expect.'

'Do you know where she's doing this reading?'

'Nope. There are a couple of studios where they do that kind of thing. I don't bother asking which one any more.'

Baddo swore and dropped the phone on the car seat. Fatigue was starting to catch up with him and the painkillers were making him drowsy. It was taking every ounce of his mental energy to concentrate on the road and he desperately wanted to close his eyes and rest for a few hours. He felt exhausted, staring at the road in front of him without knowing quite where he was going, but certain that if he were to relax for a second, the car would be off the road. He was also sure that the police would be looking for the mud-coloured Hyundai by now, so it would have to be either dumped or disguised somehow.

He stopped just as it was becoming fully dark. The wind had dropped and it looked like it would be a cold night with no low cloud to help keep the day's warmth close to the ground. An endless stream of cars and trucks swished past in the growing darkness and Baddo squinted at his phone to punch in the numbers.

It rang only once before it was answered, and there was a moment's silence before anyone spoke.

'h.e.l.lo?'

'Joel Ingi? This is Jon and we need to speak. I have something you want but it's going to cost you.'

There was a moment's silence as the pa.s.sing traffic roared in his ears and rocked the car.

'What for? Why are you calling me?'

'I know Sonja and I can retrieve what you're looking for at a price.'

'How do I know you're not stringing me along? How do I know this isn't bulls.h.i.t?'

Baddo sighed. 'I know about Sonja, and I know about personal.is. Hinrik contracted me to do some investigation on your behalf, but you can forget Hinrik. I'm the professional; you deal with me now.'

'But I'd already paid Hinrik,' Joel Ingi protested, a plaintive tone in his voice.

Baddo wanted to laugh. 'That's between you and Hinrik, but I have a feeling Hinrik will be busy elsewhere for a while.'

'What do you want?'

'I want five million, right now.'

'Cash? I can't get that much money in cash.'

'You can get it in euros, so do it. Five million is thirty-two thousand euros. Let's call it thirty thousand for cash, shall we?'

'Twenty thousand is the best I can do. But you have the . . . ?' Joel Ingi asked and Baddo wanted to punch the air with glee.

'Make it twenty-five thousand and I'll make sure that what you don't want seen doesn't see the light of day. Understood?'

There was another long silence as the roar of the wind died down.

'You have the computer, then? I want that laptop handed back to me.'

Baddo thought fast and wondered what was so special about the computer. 'It stays with me. You pay for it to stay safe and for me to stay safe as well. You s.h.i.t on me and I'll do the same to you. It works both ways.'

'I'll need to get the money together. I can't do it straight away. And I need to see the laptop.'

'Of course,' Baddo said coldly. 'You wouldn't want anyone to rip you off, would you? Give me an hour. Call me on this number then,' Baddo ordered, and stabbed the red b.u.t.ton.

ivar Laxdal seemed to fill the whole of the detectives' coffee room. Gunna, Eirikur and Helgi sat around the table as ivar waited expectantly.

'Gisladottir, Eirikur and Helgi. Well, Gunnhildur?' he invited.

'The woman who was pulling the stunts at the Gullfoss and a few other hotels is Hekla Elin Hauksdottir. She calls herself Sonja as her business name and advertises on personal.is and a few other places, as far as I've been able to find out, such as cla.s.sified ads in the press. She's thirty-three years old and lives out at Kjalarnes with her husband and three children. One's his, the younger two are theirs. She's an actress, it seems, or was. Until a year or so ago they were living in Akranes; they lost their house when the bank foreclosed and managed to swing this old place instead. The husband is a decent enough character, a good bit older, disabled in an accident a few years ago when he lost his job.'

ivar Laxdal nodded. 'And she's in an interview room right now, is she?'

'No, we haven't tracked her down yet, but as we have her address, phone numbers and the number of her car, I don't expect it'll be long. According to her husband, she was out today recording an advert at a studio somewhere. That's what seems to be left of her theatrical career: dubbing voices onto cartoons and reading ads for the radio.'

'Fine. What else? You didn't bring me down here just for that, did you?'

'Far from it. What did you get from Siggi at comms, Eirikur?'

'Mister 017, who we are certain is Hrobjartur Bjarnthorsson, has been in touch with these numbers so far and we're keeping a watch on his phone,' he said, pa.s.sing across a sheet of paper. 'He's been pretty quiet most of the time. It seems he switches on his phone, makes a call, and then switches it off again, mostly from around the same area. But today the phone has been switched on all morning and these are the numbers called.'

Eirikur tapped the sheet of paper and circled a group of numbers in red.

'This is an unknown mobile that Disa over there at the drug squad believes is one of several used by a dealer called Hinrik Srensen,' Gunna said. 'These two here are the mobile and home phone number of Joel Ingi Bragason,' she said, her finger on the paper. 'Both calls were made less than an hour ago.'

ivar Laxdal's mighty eyebrows knitted. 'Joel Ingi? That snot-nosed young pup who lost his laptop and expected us to find it for him?'

'That's the one. Either Baddo has been shadowing our investigation of what happened at Hotel Gullfoss when Johannes Karlsson kicked the bucket, or else he'd already been digging into it. Wherever we look, someone has been there first or right after us, normally calling himself Jon and telling people he's in security.'

'He has been in security,' Helgi laughed and the smile disappeared from his face. 'He spent seven years in prison in Kaunas, so he should know a thing or two about security.'

'You're sure about this?' ivar Laxdal growled.

'When I visit Sonja's victim in Akureyri, who's already been in touch? The mysterious Jon, who we have identified from CCTV at the Gullfoss as being Hrobjartur Bjarnthorsson, aka, Bigfoot Baddo,' Gunna continued. 'We grill Magnus Sigmarsson, then he vanishes. That points to the mysterious Jon, who it seems had already pumped other hotel staff members for information. We start to get close to Joel Ingi and, hey presto, Jon/Baddo again. He is now, without doubt, our prime suspect for Magnus Sigmarsson's murder, as well as the manslaughter of asmundur asuson.'

'And now we have Joel Ingi implicated in the mix as well,' ivar Laxdal mused, elbows on the table and his chin resting on his hands as one stubby forefinger tapped out a slow rhythm against the other hand. 'What do you want to do, Gunnhildur?' he asked suddenly.

'Probably what you won't let me do.'

'Which is?'

'Haul Joel Ingi Bragason down here and make him sweat. There's something very suspicious about that young man.'

ivar Laxdal smiled in a way that made his features light up under those heavy black brows. 'You can do what you feel necessary, Gunnhildur, as far as I'm concerned. It's a serious case and we can't p.u.s.s.yfoot around with half measures. But there's one piece of advice I'd like to give you before you approach the ministry.'

'And that is?'

'There'll be an election soon. This year, or next at the latest. As they'll be back out in the cold soon enough anyway, you can p.i.s.s off the politicians as much you like. But don't upset too many officials without good reason, as they'll still be running things when we have new people in charge.'

A phone call to a friend in the car trade told her the mud-coloured Hyundai was more than likely a stolen vehicle. The man with the scarred face was certainly not the Elma Lif Saevarsdottir the car was registered to, and she guessed that there was something shady that linked Joel Ingi, Hinrik the Herb and the desperate-looking man with his face covered in st.i.tches.

With Joel Ingi's trail gone cold, she told herself that she could pick it up later, either from his home or the ministry, and the tracker she'd discreetly stuck inside a wheel arch meant that his trail could be picked up whenever she felt like it. The instinct developed during years spent in uniform told her the Hyundai would be worth tailing in the meantime. This time she was ready. The brown car toiled up the slope and the venerable Renault, sharp and well looked after in spite of its age, was quick enough to keep up at a respectable distance.

She followed it through the thickening afternoon traffic as it seemed to go aimlessly through the city and out the far side towards Kopavogur before joining the main road to Hafnarfjordur. She watched the Hyundai make a slow circuit of the harbour area, encountering locked dock gates several times before it occurred to her that the driver was lost.

Finally it stopped at the side of the road in an industrial area, parking between a couple of trucks outside a row of small fish-processing plants. The little factories were deserted, the day's work over by mid-afternoon and the staff long gone, but leaving tubs of waste outside for the gulls to peck and gnaw at. She wrinkled her nose at the aroma of stale fish that the breeze brought and closed the car window as she parked a hundred metres behind the Hyundai and waited.

After a while it occurred to her that she might be in for a long wait, telling herself it could be uncomfortable sooner rather than later. There were no lights to be seen in the Hyundai and she wondered what the driver was doing. She slipped out of the car, zipped her parka up to the neck and pulled on a baseball cap that she hoped would hide her face, walking away from the Hyundai and taking a short cut between two buildings into the street higher up, conscious that this could be a mistake. The man could decide to move off at any moment, leaving her unable to follow quickly enough.

Walking briskly around the corner, she completed a circuit by striding back towards her car, taking care to stay on the opposite side of the road, thereby giving her the opportunity for only a very quick view of the Hyundai, where she was relieved to see its occupant with closed eyes, the seat laid back as far as it would go.

Satisfied for the moment, she walked smartly back to the Renault, looking about her rapidly to see if she'd been observed, and side-stepped between two shipping containers. Dubious about the cold, but left with no choice, out of the wind and out of sight, she unzipped, squatted quickly and emerged relieved a moment later to take her place in the Renault, where she switched on the radio, told herself that she was now good for the rest of the day, and waited for the Hyundai's occupant to wake up and move off.

AEgir Larusson was unamused and Mar Einarsson was visibly agitated at his side.

'Joel Ingi Bragason is on sick leave. He was taken ill last night.'

'So he's in hospital, is he?' Gunna asked. 'Which one?'

'I don't know,' Mar said stiffly. 'As far as I'm aware, he's at home.'

'What's his address?'

'I can't tell you that. It's confidential.'

'Oh, come on. It's not going to be that hard to find out where the man lives. You may as well tell me and save me going through the national register.'

Mar looked at AEgir, who gave the tiniest nod of a.s.sent. Mar wrote a few lines on a notepad and tore the top sheet off, handing it to her.

'Cla.s.sy address,' Gunna said. Standing behind her, Helgi heard his phone chime and she registered him raising an eyebrow as he read the text message. 'I'm wondering what does Joel Ingi's sudden illness have to do with this mysterious laptop that you were so anxious about a few days ago?'

Mar looked anxious and flashed a glance at AEgir, who forced a smile. 'Officer, I don't know exactly why you are suddenly so interested in a matter you were asked to investigate some time ago. It's not as if the police were particularly enthusiastic then.'

Gunna held his gaze as he tried to stare her down. 'I don't know either. But I'm not a great believer in coincidences. I get the impression that Joel Ingi is out of his depth and that neither of us has the full story. I certainly don't believe the ministry has been entirely open on this. Far from it, in fact. I'd say that we've been asked to clear up your mess, but without being given the correct information.'

AEgir frowned. 'There are things I'm not at liberty to divulge.'

'That's up to you. But without the facts, there's not a lot we can do. On the other hand, it may well be that the ministry's security is compromised. Tell me, what does Joel Ingi do here, exactly?'

Mar coughed. 'He works with me. We're part of a team that carries out a.n.a.lysis and prepares digests for policy development.'

'Tell me that's more than watching foreign TV news reports?'

'Of course it is,' Mar snapped.

'So he, and you, are dealing with sensitive or confidential data?'

'Naturally.'

'Like what?'

Mar looked at AEgir, who pursed his lips and shook his head. 'Where is this going, officer?' he asked wearily.

'What I'm after is some kind of background information that could tell me if Joel Ingi is being pressured or even blackmailed. What kind of information is he working with?'

'Trade figures, mainly. a.n.a.lysis of exports from countries that compete with our industries. That's his main role at present.'

'What about his personal life? He's married? Children?'

'He's married, no children.'