Sindri shook his head and folded his arms. ‘I won’t be a part of killing anybody.’ He corrected himself. ‘Anybody who’s innocent.’
Ísak smiled. ‘Fair enough. I’ll take care of it. I’ve got to disappear anyway, I may as well go up to Grundarfjördur. If I don’t do it there will be no revolution. Capitalism will crush Iceland. And it will be our fault. We will be responsible. Are you going to stop me?’
Sindri didn’t say anything. He avoided Ísak’s eyes.
‘I’m going now,’ said Ísak. ‘You leave in another ten minutes.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
IDENTIFYING THE NURSE was easy. Árni showed the photograph to the woman at reception in the National Hospital. ‘Oh, that’s Íris,’ she said. Within a couple of minutes Árni was in a quiet corner of one of the endless corridors, talking to the woman with the round face and the snub nose.
‘I remember him,’ the nurse said. ‘He’d got tear gas in his eye. He was in quite a lot of pain, that stuff is no joke. He had this idiotic idea that I should get two raw steaks and place them on his eyes. He said he knew where to get some. He was quite insistent.’
‘Did you do it?’ asked Árni.
‘Of course not,’ said the nurse, glancing at Árni as if he was an idiot.
Árni smiled encouragingly. That happened to him quite a lot. Smile and move on, was his motto.
‘I gave him a solution of water and sodium bisulphate. Tear gas wears off of its own accord in a few minutes.’
‘Did the boy say what his name was?’ Árni asked.
‘He may have done. I don’t remember it if he did.’
‘You didn’t keep a record anywhere? Notes?’
‘No. Just treat one and move on to the next one.’
Pity, Árni thought. ‘Do you recognize any of these people?’ Árni asked, showing the nurse photos of Harpa, Björn and Sindri.
‘No,’ said Íris, studying them. ‘Actually, I think I recognize the big guy with the ponytail. I saw him wandering around in some of those protests.’
‘But you didn’t see him talking to the boy?’
‘No.’ The woman shook her head.
Árni pulled out another photograph, a still from the RÚV video showing Sindri standing behind the nurse as she tended the boy.
‘I see him now, but I didn’t notice him then,’ she said. ‘Or hear what he said.’
Árni replaced the photographs. ‘Thank you for your help.’ As he walked away from the nurse, he considered the next step. He wasn’t actually any closer to identifying the boy.
Suddenly he had a brainwave.
He turned. The nurse was just disappearing around a corner of the corridor.
‘Íris?’ He ran after her.
‘Yes?’
‘One last question. Where did the boy think he could get the steak?’
‘Oh, I remember that. The 101 Hotel. He said he used to work there as a chef.’
Björn drove the pickup to the bakery on Nordurströnd. He knew that what he was about to do would change his relationship with Harpa for ever.
But he had no choice.
Of course Ísak was right. Once Ingólfur Arnarson had been dealt with, there would be the problem of what to do with Harpa. But Björn had a plan for that. It was probably wishful thinking, but he would give it a try.
He loved Harpa, and he was sure that she loved him. They shared similar values. She hated the credit crunch and the people who had caused it as much as he did. She would understand what he had done. Perhaps she would join him.
In the hut where he was taking her there would be a lot of time to talk. Perhaps he could persuade her. Yes, he could persuade her. He had to.
He remembered the chance meeting with Sindri in the Grand Rokk three months before. Things would have been very different if he had just walked away then. But he didn’t regret what he and the others had done over the last couple of weeks. Someone had to bring the bastards to justice.
Björn and Gulli were having a beer in the tent outside the Grand Rokk, so Gulli could smoke. Although it was eleven o’clock it was June, and so still light. The drinkers were full of the midsummer hyperactivity that strikes Iceland at that time of year: a nation running faster and faster without sleep.
‘Björn? Is that Björn?’
Björn turned to see a large figure with a broad leather hat and a ponytail. ‘Sindri!’ He stood up and shook the big man’s hand.
Sindri glanced at his companion and Björn introduced his brother. Sindri was a little drunk, Björn was a little drunk, Gulli was very drunk. Sindri and Björn talked about this and that, but not about January. They did exchange rants about the bankers. Gulli watched them, knocking the beer back steadily, not really paying much attention.
‘Do you remember I told you my brother was in danger of losing his farm?’ Sindri said.
Björn nodded. ‘Did he lose it?’
‘He couldn’t wait. Topped himself. Three months ago.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Björn said.
‘Yeah. A wife. Two daughters. They will still lose the farm. How are you doing? Have you kept hold of your boat?’
‘Had to sell it,’ said Björn. ‘Not much hope of ever getting another one.’
The two men sat in silence staring at each other. Gulli lit another cigarette.
‘We weren’t wrong, were we?’ said Sindri.
Björn hesitated. Swallowed. ‘No, we weren’t.’
‘Look. I’m having breakfast with an old friend of ours tomorrow. At the Grey Cat. Ten o’clock. Do you want to join us?’
‘Old friend?’ said Björn.
Sindri shrugged. Not in front of Gulli.
‘OK,’ said Björn. ‘See you then.’
The Grey Cat was a cosy book-lined café down some steps on Hverfisgata. It lay opposite the Central Bank, also known as ‘The Black Fort’, built in brutalist bunker style, the most hated building in Iceland. Just outside, Ingólfur Arnarson leaned on his shield staring out towards the harbour.
Björn saw Sindri’s broad leather hat as soon as he walked in. He was sitting in a booth at the back, the bulk of his body wedged between the orange table and the red leather bench. Opposite him was a smaller, trimmer figure. It took Björn a moment to recognize Ísak, the student.
Björn took a chair next to Ísak and asked the waitress for a cup of coffee. Sindri ordered a large American breakfast of pancakes and bacon, the Grey Cat’s speciality, served all day. Ísak ordered a bagel.
‘Have you two kept in contact?’ Björn asked. ‘I thought we decided to stay away from each other?’
‘No, at least not until last week,’ Sindri said. ‘Ísak dropped by my flat. We had a talk.’
‘About what we did last January?’ Björn said.
‘More about what we are going to do this autumn,’ Ísak said.
Björn raised his eyebrows. ‘We?’
‘Ísak and me,’ said Sindri. ‘And you. If you want to join us.’
Björn parked the pickup outside the bakery. He hesitated, glancing across the bay towards the Hallgrímskirkja above downtown Reykjavík. There was no going back now. He took a deep breath and opened the door.
The place was empty. Harpa’s face lit up when she saw him. She skipped around the counter and fell into his arms.
‘Oh, Björn. I’m so sorry I doubted you. Will you forgive me?’
‘There’s nothing to forgive. I need a cup of coffee. Do you want one?’
‘OK.’
‘I’ll get it,’ Björn said. There were a couple of urns containing coffee along one wall. Björn poured himself and Harpa a cup. They sat down at a table.
‘So you’ve decided you are going to the police?’ Björn asked.
Harpa nodded her head.
‘Are you absolutely sure? No matter what the consequences?’
‘I have to,’ said Harpa. ‘If someone else were to die, I couldn’t bear it.’
‘I understand.’ Björn relaxed. There was no point in trying to talk her out of it. He was committed now. He sipped his coffee. Harpa didn’t touch hers.
She smiled at Björn. ‘I’m so glad you do. What I feel worst about is that I might get you in trouble.’