Then came the tear gas. ‘This is the last image of them we have,’ said Vigdís. Björn, Harpa and Sindri were standing next to the statue of Ingólfur Arnarson. Then they turned and headed off up Hverfisgata. It was only possible to identify them by the shape of their bodies, but they were quite distinctive.
‘Wait a moment, who’s that guy?’ said Magnus. A younger man seemed to be trailing along a short distance behind.
‘No idea,’ said Vigdís. ‘We can’t really see his face. But I can look at other images, see if I can narrow him down.’
‘I bet it’s Ísak,’ Magnus said. ‘Sharon is taking a photograph of him in London now. I’ll get her to send it over.’
‘There will be one on the drivers’ licence registry,’ said Árni. ‘I’ll check.’ This database contained images of every Icelander who had a driver’s licence, and the police had access to it. Useful.
Magnus stood up straight. ‘I take it we have an address for this Sindri?’
‘Hverfisgata,’ said Vigdís. ‘Right by the Shadow District.’
‘Come on, Vigdís,’ Magnus said. ‘Let’s go talk to him. Árni, get working on those images.’
As they were leaving the office they passed Baldur. ‘Magnús? I thought you were at the police college?’
‘Just come from there,’ Magnus said, with a smile. ‘Got to go.’ And he and Vigdís hurried out of the building.
It was quiet in the bakery. Harpa looked up when the door opened. She recognized the couple who came in.
‘Hi, Frikki,’ she said warily.
‘Hello, Harpa,’ Frikki said. They examined the selection at the counter. Frikki took a kleina and his chubby girlfriend an éclair.
Frikki paid. Harpa gave him change.
Frikki hesitated. His girlfriend stared at him. ‘Did you see the news?’ Frikki said.
‘About the British Chancellor?’
‘Yes.’
‘I did.’
‘Can we talk about it?’
Harpa glanced around. There were no customers in the shop. Dísa was in the back icing a birthday cake. ‘OK,’ she said. They moved over to the table in the corner.
‘Harpa, this is Magda, my girlfriend,’ Frikki said.
‘Good morning,’ the woman said with a foreign accent, Polish probably. She smiled. Harpa nodded.
‘What do you think?’ Frikki asked. ‘About Lister?’
‘However big a bully he is, he doesn’t deserve to die,’ Harpa said.
‘No. No, course not. But, well…’ Frikki flinched as his girlfriend jerked slightly. An under-the-table kick. ‘When we saw it on the news last night it made me think. About that night in January. And…’
‘And what?’
‘Well, perhaps they did it?’
‘By they you mean…?’
‘You know who I mean. The others. Björn. Sindri. The student guy. Them. What if they all got back together and decided to kill Julian Lister? And Óskar?’
‘No,’ said Harpa. ‘Why should they?’
‘Why should they? Well, they were talking about it, weren’t they? I mean, weren’t we? About what we would like to do to the bankers. To Julian Lister.’
‘That was just talk,’ said Harpa.
‘But it wasn’t, was it? I mean what we did to your boyfriend. I mean we…’ Frikki’s voice was wavering.
‘You mean I,’ said Harpa.
‘No. No, Harpa. We. I’ve thought about it a lot. We don’t know which of the two of us actually killed him, do we? Maybe it was you, maybe it was me. I kicked him in the head, after all.’
Harpa’s eyes widened. She had held herself solely responsible for Gabríel Örn’s death. She felt a surge of sympathy for the kid sitting opposite her. She knew what it was like to feel that guilty.
‘Well, I don’t know about the others, but I know Björn didn’t kill them,’ Harpa said. ‘I’ve got to know him very well. He’s a good man.’
‘But what about Sindri? You remember what he was saying. About how the Icelandic people aren’t violent enough. About how they should take physical action.’
‘He was just talking big,’ said Harpa. ‘He was half-drunk. We all were. In fact you were talking loudest of the lot.’
‘I know,’ said Frikki.
‘And anyway, those people were shot abroad, weren’t they? England, France.’
‘It wouldn’t take long to fly there and back,’ Magda said. ‘A fisherman could do it when he said he was out at sea. Go to Keflavík. London or Paris. No problem.’
‘That’s absurd. I know Björn didn’t do that.’
Magda shrugged. There was silence for a moment.
Frikki flinched as he received another kick under the table. Harpa glanced at the Polish girl. She had an open, honest face. Harpa didn’t trust her.
Frikki spoke. ‘The thing is, Harpa. I’m thinking about going to the police.’
‘What! Why would you do that?’
‘Well. Anonymously perhaps. But if all these people are being killed, then who’s to say it will stop now?’
‘No one. But it’s got nothing to do with us.’
‘It has. Believe me, I feel guilty already. If I don’t do something to stop them…’
‘You’re making a massive assumption here,’ Harpa said. ‘It would be one thing if we knew that Sindri or one of the others had killed these people, but we don’t. All we know is that you and I killed someone. And I feel quite strongly we should keep quiet about that.’
Frikki took a deep breath. ‘I wanted to warn you first.’
Harpa turned to the Polish woman.
‘Magda, is it?’
Magda nodded.
‘Listen. I know you think you are Frikki’s conscience, but this isn’t up to you. He’s a good kid. He doesn’t deserve to go to prison for years, which he will do. Maybe I do deserve to be locked up, but I have a three-year-old son. And the others helped us, me and Frikki, cover everything up. Björn in particular helped us. He shouldn’t go to jail.’
‘But we have a duty to stop any more people being murdered,’ Magda said.
‘We don’t know why these people were murdered! We don’t know there is a connection. Óskar and Lister weren’t even in Iceland. We just keep quiet, Frikki, do you understand me?’ Harpa was surprised by the authority she heard in her own voice. ‘And we don’t become friends. We keep well clear of each other. Otherwise we both wind up in jail and achieve nothing. Do you agree? Frikki, do you agree?’
Frikki glanced at Magda who was frowning. Harpa could see how torn she was, between doing what she thought was the right thing, and sending the boy she loved to jail. But it wasn’t up to her. It was up to Harpa and Frikki.
‘Frikki, you’ll never forget what happened,’ Harpa said. ‘But you are still young. You’re not a murderer, you didn’t mean to kill Gabríel Örn. You can still turn your life around. Focus on that.’
Frikki glanced at Magda. She closed her eyes and nodded. ‘OK,’ Frikki said. ‘OK.’
The moment Magnus saw Sindri he remembered where he recognized him from.
Oh, shit.
He wished he had brought Árni along, rather than Vigdís. This could get embarrassing, and Árni was an easier person to be embarrassed in front of.
But Sindri didn’t recognize him. He was full of indignation at being harassed by police in his own home. Magnus could tell that Sindri wasn’t surprised by the visit. On the other hand Sindri was probably used to unannounced visits by the police.
The flat was a dump, and smelled faintly of marijuana, stale tobacco and rotten food. Sindri reluctantly led them into the living room. There was a pile of dirty plates by the sink in the kitchen alcove. A computer in one corner was surrounded by paper on the desk and on the floor. Sindri was obviously working on something which involved a lot of pages.