‘Lending money to clients and friends to buy shares in the bank, and doing it secretly. At least that is what the allegation is.’
‘Were any of these clients Russians?’
Gudmundur’s frown deepened. ‘I don’t think so, but I can’t be absolutely sure. There is a web of holding companies and subsidiaries in places like Tortola and Liechtenstein and it’s a nightmare trying to figure out who the real owners are. But the bank has very few Russian clients.’ He paused. ‘In fact, none that I can think of.’
‘Presumably some of these offshore companies were owned indirectly by Óskar?’
‘Yes. The main holding company is OBG Investments. As well as Ódinsbanki it has holdings in a major chain of hotels and some retailers in Germany and Britain. And that’s just what is public knowledge. The company is run by Emilía Gunnarsdóttir, Óskar’s sister. Their offices are right here on Borgartún.’
Magnus asked some more questions about the bank and Óskar, and Árni took copious notes, although Magnus got the impression that he wasn’t really following what was going on.
Just as they were about to leave, Árni asked his own question. ‘Didn’t Gabríel Örn Bergsson work here?’
‘Yes he did,’ Gudmundur replied. ‘That was another sad case. It is unfortunate that two senior members of staff died in such awful circumstances, no matter how much damage they did to the bank.’
‘Did Gabríel Örn do much damage?’
‘Yes,’ Gudmundur sighed. ‘Most of the bad loans the bank made were in his department.’
‘What about Harpa Einarsdóttir?’ Árni asked.
‘I didn’t know her well; she left the bank just after I arrived,’ Gudmundur replied. ‘She worked with Gabríel Örn. I think she was his girlfriend. She had a good reputation within the firm, but she was too young. Too optimistic. No sense of what might go wrong.’
‘Was there any connection between them and Óskar?’ Árni asked.
‘Well, yes, obviously. Gabríel Örn was in charge of the leveraged lending group which was an important department. I’m sure that he and Óskar knew each other well. I have no idea about the relationship between Harpa and Óskar, but once again she was a fairly senior executive. And Óskar used to socialize with his staff. You must have read all about the parties in the newspapers.’
Even Magnus was aware that the Icelandic press had had a great time describing the excesses of the bankers, Óskar prominent among them: the parties, the private jets, the apartments in New York and London. To Magnus’s jaundiced eye it seemed nothing beyond the regular corporate excesses which you would expect in the boardrooms of America. It might not be in the Icelandic tradition, but it was certainly in the tradition of Wall Street.
‘What was all that about?’ Magnus asked Árni once they had left the CEO’s office. ‘Who the hell is Gabríel Örn?’
‘A banker who killed himself in January, a few months before you arrived in Iceland. Harpa was his ex-girlfriend who used to work for him. I interviewed her afterwards.’
‘Why did he kill himself?’
‘We’re not absolutely sure. He only left a brief text message as a suicide note. But he was responsible for bankrupting a bank. A few bad days at work, to put it mildly.’
‘And do you think there is a connection with Óskar’s murder?’
‘Um, no.’
‘Are you sure?’
Árni waited for the lift doors to close behind them as they headed down to the lobby.
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ he said.
Magnus looked at him closely. He didn’t believe him.
CHAPTER SIX
EMILÍA GUNNARSDÓTTIR HAD poise. She was in her mid-thirties, slim, with her dark hair tied back. She was wearing an elegant black trouser suit and expensive but discreet gold adorned her ears and neck.
The offices of OBG Investments took up one floor of a five-storey building a hundred metres along Borgartún from the Ódinsbanki headquarters. Magnus saw from the directory in the lobby that the other occupants were firms of lawyers and accountants, plus the odd enigmatic financial company, like OBG itself. It was obvious when they had reached OBG’s floor: the reception area was dominated by a life-size sculpture in bronze of a Viking in full warrior gear riding a Harley Davidson.
Emilía led Magnus and Árni through to her office: thick white carpet, black leather armchairs and sofa, a broad black desk, uncluttered with papers, but bearing a sleek computer screen. The contrast with Gudmundur’s office was stark. ‘I am very sorry about your brother,’ Magnus began.
For a moment, a second or so, the poise cracked. But then with a purse of the lips it was back. ‘Thank you,’ was all Emilía said. ‘Sit down. I hope you don’t mind waiting a couple of minutes. I’ve asked my lawyer to be present. She works in this building so she won’t be long.’
Magnus was surprised. ‘I don’t think there’s a need for a lawyer, Emilía. You are not a suspect.’ Or not yet, he thought. Asking for a lawyer this early in proceedings certainly raised alarm bells.
‘Not for this crime, perhaps. But don’t forget that our company is under investigation.’
‘I’m not interested in the Special Prosecutor’s case,’ Magnus said. ‘I just want to find out more about your brother.’
‘Which I will tell you once my lawyer is here. Would you like some coffee?’
Just then the door opened and a woman came in.
A woman whom Magnus recognized. He couldn’t keep the shock from registering on his face. The woman seemed just as surprised herself.
‘This is Sigurbjörg Vilhjálmsdóttir, my lawyer,’ Emilía said. ‘But it seems that you know each other already.’
There was a brief pause as both Magnus and the lawyer struggled for something to say. ‘Yes,’ Magnus said, eventually, clearing his throat. ‘We do know each other. Sigurbjörg is my cousin.’ He hesitated and then stepped forward to kiss her on the cheek.
‘Oh, I see,’ Emilía said, unsurprised at the connection. This was Reykjavík, after all. But she could tell there was something strained between them, although she could not possibly know what. ‘Is there any reason why you shouldn’t advise me on this matter, Sigurbjörg?’
‘No,’ said Sigurbjörg. ‘No, there will be no problem.’
‘We aren’t close,’ said Magnus, and then regretted it. While true, it sounded unnecessarily rude.
‘OK,’ said Emilía. ‘Well. Let’s begin, shall we?’
‘Can you tell me a bit about Óskar?’ Magnus asked. Árni pulled out his notebook, a look of intense concentration on his face as he prepared himself for more financial gobbledygook.
‘He was a very special person.’ Emilía hesitated. It was as if the simple question threatened to unleash emotion, which had been Magnus’s intention. But once again she was back in complete control in an instant. ‘Very bright. Energetic. Funny. People liked him. People loved him. Especially the people who worked for him.’
‘What about his enemies?’
‘He didn’t have any enemies.’
‘Oh, come on, Emilía. How could someone like him not have enemies?’
Irritation flared in Emilía’s eyes. She didn’t like being contradicted.
‘Well, there were business rivals, I suppose. But they didn’t hate him. The press loved to gossip about him, but they needed him for their copy. During the demonstrations some of the speakers were asking for his head, but they didn’t really know him.’
‘Clients of the bank? Depositors? Shareholders? A lot of people must have lost money when Ódinsbanki was nationalized.’
‘Yes, that’s true. But I don’t think most people blamed my brother. All the Icelandic banks collapsed: Ódinsbanki was probably the best run of all of them.’
‘What about his personal life? His wife? Or rather ex-wife?’