Chilled To The Bone Part 3

He pointed at a figure standing at the reception desk. 'Who's that?'

'That gentleman is a Russian businessman. He's something to do with herring, I believe. A regular winter visitor to these sh.o.r.es.'

Helgi set the sequence to run again and watched the crowd around the reception desk, only looking up briefly as Gunna came into the room quietly and pulled up a chair behind them.

'Any joy, Helgi?'

'n.o.body so far that . . . I'm sorry. Your name's slipped my mind . . .' he said apologetically.

'Gustav Freysteinn Boa.s.son, at your service. Known to his friends as Gustav and the staff and clientele of this place as Gussi,' he replied grandly, waving a hand to indicate his surroundings. 'And you are?'

'Me? I'm Gunna.'

'Known as detective sergeant Gunnhildur to us food soldiers,' Helgi added wryly. 'Who's that character?'

Gussi hooked a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles onto one ear at a time and peered at the screen. 'Ach,' he said dismissively, 'that's n.o.body.'

'And what do you mean by "n.o.body"?' Gunna asked sharply and saw Gussi flinch at her tone.

'He works in the bar. He's a rather silly young man by the name of Kolbeinn, I believe.'

'Here,' Helgi interrupted. 'That's Johannes Karlsson, isn't it?' The black-and-white figure moved jerkily through the lobby, looked from side to side and disappeared from view. 'Gussi, where does that door lead?'

'That leads to the bar. It's quiet at that time of the morning.'

'You were on duty this morning. Didn't you notice him?' Helgi asked, pausing the replay.

'I may have,' Gustav shrugged. 'I was at the reception desk and we were quite busy. I can't keep tabs on every person who walks through the lobby,' he said without hiding his impatience.

'Is there CCTV in the bar?'

'There most certainly is. In this city, Big Brother is everywhere.'

'All right,' Helgi said with immense patience. 'How do I switch this machine here to the recording from the camera in the bar?'

'Choose number six from the menu at the top.'

Gla.s.ses on the end of his nose as he switched camera, Helgi grunted with satisfaction as almost instantly Johannes Karlsson appeared in view. He was a tall, broad man with a deliberate way of walking. The camera caught him stalking across the empty restaurant and taking a seat at a low table where he opened a newspaper. A minute later a waiter appeared and spoke to him briefly.

'No sound on this, I don't suppose?' Gunna asked.

'It's just supposed to be good enough to recognize faces,' Helgi said, eyes on the screen. 'This is exciting, isn't it, watching someone reading the paper. Gussi, what's the waiter's name? The guy he spoke to just then?'

'As I told you only a minute ago, that young man is Kolbeinn, one of the lowly staff like myself who keep this ship on an even keel.'

'Kolbeinn,' Helgi wrote down. 'Whose -son?'

'Ah, there I fear I fail you. Yngvi will be able to tell you his name, patronymic, his mother's name and his ancestry going back eight generations.'

Helgi directed a sideways glance at Gunna and lifted his eyebrows with a despairing shake of the head.

'Ah, company,' Gunna said, looking past Helgi to the screen. 'Gussi, did you notice this?'

All three of them watched as Johannes Karlsson folded and put down his newspaper, standing up as a woman approached him. They shook hands and both sat down, Johannes Karlsson at ease in his chair, looking towards the camera, while the back of the woman's head faced the lens. All Gunna could see was a black coat with a high collar and fair hair that spilled over it. The two sat and talked for a few minutes before Johannes Karlsson beckoned the same waiter as before and sat back. As far as could be seen on the grainy footage, he was smiling.

'No ideas, Gussi?' Gunna asked.

Gustav spread his hands wide and his face was a picture of innocence. 'Do you see me there anywhere? I was on the reception desk all morning. I didn't see what was going on in the restaurant. The bar is Kolbeinn's domain today, not mine.'

The waiter returned with coffee. The pair at the table in the corner of the empty restaurant sipped and talked, although it seemed that Johannes Karlsson was doing most of the talking. The woman crossed and uncrossed her long legs several times, and leaned forward to sip from her cup.

Eventually the woman stood up, slipped the straps of a holdall over her shoulder and strode from the room. Johannes Karlsson could be seen admiring the expanse of long legs in knee-high boots reaching to a short skirt that peeped below the hem of her coat. She looked around her and gave the camera a quick glance, looking right into it.

'Stop right there,' Gunna ordered. 'Can you get that as a still picture, Helgi?'

'No idea. Gussi?'

His fingers tapped at the keyboard and Helgi inserted a flash stick into a slot. 'Save it onto that, would you?' he instructed.

Gunna studied the face, blurred but with a piercing look directed straight at her from beneath an ash-blonde fringe. The lips were full and too dark to be anything other than painted. The woman's coat was open enough to show a pale-coloured dress or blouse underneath, while the hand that held the straps of the holdall on her shoulder sported a broad ring, which was distinct even on the grainy image.

'I wonder,' Gunna muttered to herself.

'What, chief?'

'Nothing. This is someone we ought to have a word with sometime very soon. Roll the tape, would you? I'd like you to root around the other cameras and see if you can find out where the girl went, but first let's see what Johannes Karlsson decides to do.'

They watched as he unfolded his newspaper unhurriedly, sipped his cup of coffee and read quietly, occasionally looking up. Gunna watched the clock ticking in the corner of the screen; five minutes pa.s.sed before Johannes Karlsson stood up, refolded his copy of Morgunbladid, tucked it under his arm and strode from the room, looking neither to the right nor left. As soon as he had gone, the waiter appeared, cleared the table, wiped it carefully and retired, leaving the bar deserted.

'Baddo.'

It was a familiar voice, and not a welcome one.

'I thought I'd be able to live the rest of my life without hearing you wheezing in my ear again. What the f.u.c.k do you want?' Baddo asked without turning round.

'That's not a nice thing to say to an old friend who has your best interests at heart, is it?'

Baddo wondered if the best move would be simply to abandon his beer and walk out, but a sneaking curiosity as to why Hinrik the Herb had made the unwelcome effort to find him held him back.

'Tell me what you're looking for. You have as long as it takes me to finish this beer, and then I'm out of here.'

Hinrik beckoned to the barman, who scuttled over as quickly as his feet would carry him, ignoring the line of people already waiting to be served. 'Vodka, neat, and not the p.i.s.s you give the usual customers.'

'You run this place, do you?' Baddo asked, curiosity getting the better of him. 'Come up in the world, haven't you?'

A smile that made Hinrik's narrow face look even more menacing appeared briefly and then vanished. 'Let's say I have an interest in this place, as well as a few others.' He sipped the vodka that appeared at his elbow. 'Insurance,' he explained modestly.

'You mean you're running a protection racket?'

Hinrik shrugged. 'Call it what you like. It works. The people who run this place don't get any trouble, and we get a cut of the profits. Pre-tax, of course,' he said and the menacing smile reappeared.

Baddo drained his beer and banged the gla.s.s down on the bar. 'Well, a pleasure to see you again, Hinrik. Let's leave it another ten years before we catch up again, shall we?' he suggested, turning to go.

Hinrik's hand descended on Baddo's forearm, and he made to shake it off impatiently as a second gla.s.s of beer appeared in front of him.

'What's the hurry, Baddo?' the silky voice asked. 'It's not as if you have work to go to.'

'And what the f.u.c.k does that have to do with you?'

Baddo looked at the beer in front of him and put a hand towards it. He knew that taking a sip would mean listening to whatever Hinrik the Herb had sought him out for. As he lifted the gla.s.s he had the feeling he was watching a mistake being made.

Hinrik looked into his eyes and raised his vodka. 'Cheers. Welcome back,' he said, and threw the spirit down his throat in a single fluid movement that saw the empty shot gla.s.s return to the bar before Baddo had even wet his lips.

'There are people around the city who don't like your face, Baddo, and they have long memories.'

'Meaning what?' Baddo flashed back, the old fury rising inside him. 'I've paid my debts. There's nothing I owe anyone.'

'I didn't say there was, did I? Don't jump to conclusions.' He paused. 'Don't forget your beer,' Hinrik reminded him. 'A free beer doesn't come anyone's way too often.'

'Like a free lunch?' Baddo sneered. 'They say there's no such thing as a free lunch, and in your world there's no such thing as a free drink.'

'Your world as well, Baddo. It's your world as well.'

'Not any more,' he said with decision, draining the gla.s.s and putting it back on the bar upside down. He glared at the barman, who was already at the pump, waiting to pour him another.

'That's where you might be wrong. There's some work for you if you want it, and I think you do.'

'How much?' Baddo asked quickly, and immediately regretted it.

'That's more like it.' Hinrik crooked a little finger towards the barman and down at the two empty gla.s.ses. 'Six-fifty.'

'And the job?'

'Find someone.'

'Not for six hundred and fifty thousand.'

Hinrik frowned. 'Baddo, you're not in a position to negotiate. But for old times' sake, I reckon we could stretch it to a million.'

'Yeah, that means you've already negotiated a couple of million from whoever it is who wants someone found,' Baddo said and saw the first flash of anger on Hinrik's otherwise impa.s.sive features.

'Whatever. You know well enough how business works,' Hinrik retorted and reached into the inside pocket of his leather jacket. He extracted an envelope and pushed it along the bar with one finger. 'You might want to start your enquiries over there,' Hinrik said, the cruel smile returning to his face as he jerked his head towards the bar's long window and the imposing bulk of the Gullfoss Hotel across the street. 'It's part of a chain now. A customer of mine works there, name of Magnus; he drives a beaten-up old black Golf. Ask him. But don't ask him too hard, y'know. I don't want to lose any trade. Of course, a successful outcome could also wipe out any past misdeeds, don't forget.'

'What are you looking for? Name, address, shoe size, bank accounts, or what?'

'A name will do nicely. An address would be worth a bonus.'

'And an advance,' Baddo decided just as two gla.s.ses appeared on the bar.

'Meet me here at the same time tomorrow and there'll be cash,' Hinrik said, raising his vodka aloft. 'Cheers. Welcome home.'

On the main road she joined the stream of lights heading out of town at a steady pace through the falling sleet that had made the road treacherous. Once past Mosfellsbaer, the traffic thinned and Hekla kept her speed to a manageable and un.o.btrusive seventy as she followed a truck rolling through the dark in front of her. As the truck slowed going up an incline, Hekla took the opportunity to signal to the less patient traffic on her tail and pulled onto a slip road leading to an unused roundabout with turnoffs heading to outlying districts of the city that so far existed only on plans.

She rolled down the window and lit a cigarette, with the car parked and ready to roll down the slip road and back onto the main road. It was a relief at last to have the cigarette she'd been denying herself all day and she savoured each drag as she hauled them deep into her lungs, flicking ash out of the open window as she thumbed a text message into her phone.

She looked carefully about her and, with a swift movement, her ink-black hair was pulled off to reveal a short mousy crop that nestled above the tips of her ears. She quickly ran a hand through it, relieved to be free of the day's second itchy wig.

The cigarette b.u.t.t was dropped into the slush at the side of the road and she pulled away and joined the stream of traffic again, blindly following the car in front along the busy but unlit road, with cars bound for the city flashing past and wheels throwing up a constant barrage of wet spray that the wipers struggled to clear.

A few kilometres before Kjalarnes, Hekla wound down the window and looked in the mirror to see that the driver of the nearest car behind was too far away to notice anything falling from the vehicle in front. A handful of credit cards and receipts fluttered into the darkness to be crushed and lost in the frozen sleet on the road's surface.

It was still cold outside, but a miserable damp cold, as if winter were deciding whether to stick it out or give way to spring a few months early. It was the kind of insidious chill that ate its way into your bones, he felt, as he longed for summer and sunshine. Joel Ingi huddled into his coat and turned up the collar. Then he turned it down as he felt it made him look ridiculously suspicious, especially as he had left the building to make a surrept.i.tious phone call.

'Hae. It's me,' he said as the phone was answered. 'Any news?'

'No, not yet. Look, you can't expect results just like that,' the voice on the other end replied irritably.

'But you said you'd get onto this as quickly as you could, didn't you?'

'That was only a few days ago, pal. This stuff doesn't happen overnight.'

'I've paid you a lot of money. You said you'd be as fast as you could.'

'I work as fast as I can, but I don't have a magic wand,' the voice replied dismissively. 'That kind of stuff costs extra. A lot extra.'

'But this has to be done quickly. You have to find it. You have no idea how important this is.'

'Look, pal,' the voice said, staccato. 'You can have cheap, you can have fast, you can have discreet. No way can you have all three. If you want discretion, then it has to take time. You understand?'

'Yeah, I get you,' Joel Ingi replied resignedly.

'I'll be in touch,' the voice said shortly and the line went dead.

Gunna stared at the image that Yngvi had printed out for her. The woman's eyes were shadows under heavy makeup, eyelashes unrealistically long and heavy, but the eyes still had a piercing quality that the camera had captured as she'd glanced directly into its lens. The hair seemed too perfect, elegantly coiffured in a deceptively complex cut that let the hair spread over her shoulders.

The face was long, with a distinctive bony nose that wasn't quite straight, and Gunna had little doubt that she would recognize the woman if she were to see her in person. She tapped the table as she thought things through. The woman had clearly arrived at the hotel with the intention of meeting Johannes Karlsson, and it was just as clear that he had been expecting her, but the handshake indicated that this was a formal meeting of some kind, or else the first time they had met.

'Here, chief,' Helgi called softly, his finger on the mouse as he scrolled back through the digital recording.

'What do you have?'

'Look.'

Gunna and Helgi watched as the woman emerged from the lift on the fourth floor and made her way around the corner towards the room where Johannes Karlsson's body was still spreadeagled on the bed as the forensic team examined every fibre in the place. She looked quickly left and right as she pa.s.sed the camera, after which the camera recorded twenty seconds of blank corridor before it stopped.

'It's automatic,' Helgi explained. 'On the floors upstairs the cameras are fitted with motion sensors, so they start recording as soon as they sense someone moving.'

'I got the gist of that, thanks, Helgi.'