‘And the motorbikes?’
‘Nothing. But we traced the gun: it was used in a gang shooting in Lewisham two months ago – that’s in south London. No one was killed or even injured. But that probably just means the gun was second hand. I’ve brought a list of Icelandic citizens we know that Gunnarsson was in contact with in London. Can we go through that?’
‘Sure. And I have fixed up an appointment with the Special Prosecutor into financial crimes. That might give you an idea of where Óskar and Ódinsbanki fit into the inquiries into the banking crisis last year.’
‘Good. Thank you. Have you turned up anything?’
‘Nothing on a Russian angle,’ Magnus said. He considered telling Piper about Harpa, but Baldur had been quite explicit. The fact that Harpa had once had sex with Óskar about four years ago was not yet a conclusive link. Reykjavík was a small place, and although that didn’t quite mean that everyone had slept with everyone else, that kind of coincidence could not be ruled out.
Four years? Harpa had a three-year old son. Hmm.
‘Magnus?’
Magnus shook his head. ‘Sorry. It’s nothing.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘WELCOME TO ICELAND, Sharon,’ said the chief superintendent.‘My name is Thorkell. And this is Inspector Baldur who is in charge of the investigation from our end.’
Thorkell was beaming at Piper, who fell under his charm instantly. They were in the chief’s office on the top floor of the building, with a view of the windswept bay and Mount Esja, standing strong and immobile against the gale. Thorkell’s round face was all pink-cheeked smiles. Baldur eyed Piper suspiciously.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘How long are you planning to be with us?’ Thorkell asked.
‘I’ve left it open,’ Piper said. ‘Probably just a day or so, but I can stay longer if necessary.’
‘I doubt it will be,’ said Thorkell. ‘We haven’t found any Icelandic link at our end have we, Magnus?’
Magnus recognized a question requiring the answer no when he heard one. ‘No,’ he said.
‘Any breakthroughs at your end?’
‘Not yet,’ said Piper. ‘But we can’t rule out that Gunnarsson was murdered by an Icelander.’
‘Mr Julian Lister is incorrect. We are not all terrorists,’ said Baldur in halting English. Julian Lister was the British Chancellor of the Exchequer.
‘I didn’t know there were any terrorists in Iceland,’ said Piper. ‘We have no idea what the motive for Óskar Gunnarsson’s murder was, but there are no signs of terrorism.’
‘Good, good,’ said Thorkell. ‘Sharon, I would like you to come with me to meet Óskar Gunnarsson’s family. He was an important man here in Iceland, and it would be good for them to see what is being done to find his killer.’
‘I would be happy to,’ said Piper.
‘What was all that terrorism crap?’ Piper said as they left Thorkell’s office.
‘Yeah, you’ll find the Icelanders are a bit sensitive about that these days,’ Magnus said. ‘When all the banks blew up last year, the Brits seized the UK assets of one of them under anti-terrorist legislation. Some people here think that that caused the two biggest banks to go bust. The British government put out a blacklist of terrorist organizations with the Icelandic banks appearing just beneath Al-Qaeda, the Taliban and North Korea. A lot of Icelanders were very upset. They set up a petition on the web with pictures of ordinary people saying they weren’t terrorists. There’s still a whole lot of anger at your Prime Minister and Julian Lister.’
‘Can’t say I blame them,’ said Piper. ‘Lister got the elbow over the summer, but the Prime Minister is still there.’
‘Anyway, let’s take a look at your list.’
Back in the Violent Crimes unit, Magnus introduced Piper to Árni and Vigdís. Vigdís deigned to say ‘good afternoon’ in English.
‘So, Sharon, how do you like Iceland?’ Árni asked her, a look of eager anticipation on his face.
‘Er, windy,’ said Piper. ‘I haven’t really seen very much of it yet. I’d like to see a tree.’
Vigdís rolled her eyes. There was a famous moment in Icelandic folklore when an over-eager reporter had asked Ringo Starr that very question as he was getting out of his aeroplane at the Reykjavík City Airport.
Árni could have been that reporter.
‘I don’t think we’ll have time to find you a tree,’ said Árni. ‘Sorry.’
‘Let’s see that list of names,’ Magnus said.
They spent a couple of hours at it. Magnus’s team didn’t cover themselves with glory. He himself had barely heard of any of them. Árni insisted on making bold statements and wild guesses about them that turned out to be wrong. And Vigdís, who knew her way around the police files and seemed to recognize most of them, insisted on having everything translated into Icelandic.
Magnus had called her on it, he still could not believe that she only spoke Icelandic, to which she simply replied: ‘Jeg taler dansk.’
But nothing leapt out at them beyond the fact that Óskar knew all the most important people in Iceland’s business world, which wasn’t exactly surprising. Piper was clearly disappointed.
‘We’ll take the list to the Special Prosecutor’s office,’ Magnus said. ‘See if they can come up with something.’
The Special Prosecutor into Financial Crimes had an office around the corner from police headquarters. He was a burly, fresh-faced man in his forties with an air of solidity about him. Magnus had read about him. He was the former chief of police of a small town outside Reykjavík. None of the more obvious candidates among the many lawyers in the capital itself could take the job since they were either married or related to the suspects, so the government had looked outside to fill the role. The man they had chosen had zero experience of international fraud, but he did have a good reputation for hard work and integrity.
He was reading from one of a pile of files on his desk. There were several piles more behind him. Electric cables ran between the papers over the floor, connecting up to a mess of computer equipment. The office had a feel of haphazard industry to it.
They spoke in English.
‘Can you tell us something about your investigations into Óskar Gunnarsson?’ Magnus began.
‘Certainly,’ said the Prosecutor. ‘We haven’t narrowed down our focus on to him specifically yet, but we are looking closely at Ódinsbanki, as we are all the other banks.’
‘Fraud?’ Magnus said. ‘Money laundering?’
‘Nothing that straightforward, I’m afraid. It’s more market manipulation: lending money to related companies and individuals to buy shares in the bank.’
‘Is that illegal?’ Piper asked.
The Prosecutor shrugged. ‘That is the big question. It’s certainly wrong, and in many countries it would definitely be against the law. But Iceland doesn’t have very sophisticated securities legislation. It partly depends how many of these transactions were publicly disclosed.’
The Prosecutor picked up a pencil and drummed it on his desk. ‘It’s also how the Icelandic banks managed to grow so big so fast. One investment company borrowed money to invest in another, which borrowed yet more money to invest in a third, which borrowed money to invest in the banks that were lending them the money in the first place. Before you know it a hundred million krónur has become ten billion.’
‘Sounds complicated,’ said Piper.
‘It is. Especially when it’s all done through a web of holding companies in the Virgin Islands. It’s going to take us years to unravel it all.’
‘Years? So it wasn’t the case that Óskar Gunnarsson was just about to be prosecuted for something?’ Piper asked.
‘No. Certainly not yet. Perhaps down the line. We are not going to be rushed. The public may want blood, but if we do bring a prosecution, I want it done properly.’