A second rapid glance that passed between the two of them did not go unnoticed by Gunna as Sunna María left the room.
‘I have been maybe more involved in the day-to-day business activities. But my wife is aware of the overall picture,’ he said, his voice dry.
‘I don’t intend to delve unnecessarily into your business affairs, other than what could concern Vilhelm Thorleifsson. Is there anyone who would bear him a grudge, enough to have him murdered?’
Jóhann smiled briefly, displaying teeth that looked less than perfect. ‘Not that I can imagine,’ he said. ‘Vilhelm’s business affairs were complex and extensive. Our involvement has been modest.’
‘Sólfell Investment and his shipping ventures, you mean?’
‘Precisely.’
‘That’s all?’
‘There have been a few other ventures. We have a property concern that Vilhelm put some finance into, and we were fortunate to have concluded our business. We handed over our stakes in his and Elvar Pálsson’s business in exchange for Sólfell Property being put solely into our hands.’
‘Any other business partners, other than Elvar Pálsson?’
She watched the blood leave Jóhann’s lips as they pressed tightly together for a moment in disapproval.
‘No. I’m in the final stages of winding up any business relationships with Vilhelm and Elvar, other than companies that we both hold a share in. But we have an overseas investor in Sólfell Property and a company called Vison that is at start-up stage at the moment.’
‘You didn’t get on with Vilhelm and Elvar?’
‘No.’
‘Any special reason?’
Jóhann hid a yawn behind his hand. ‘Call it a gut feeling,’ he said and Gunna sensed immediately that there was more than just dislike behind his comment.
‘You didn’t trust them?’
‘No. Not at all,’ he said sharply, as if the question had touched a nerve. ‘Elvar’s a relative of my wife’s, but not a close relative. My personal feeling is that he’s this far from being a criminal.’ He glanced at the closed door and held up a hand with a narrow gap between his thumb and the tip of the forefinger. ‘So, no. I have never been able to trust him and have done my best not to entangle our affairs with his. It’s a delicate matter, as my wife is fond of him.’
Gunna nodded. ‘I see. When you say he’s this far from being a criminal, in what way?’
Jóhann grimaced. ‘It’s not easy to say. You understand that I have nothing concrete to base this on. But his opinions, the way he does business, everything. Elvar Pálsson would sell his first-born child if he thought there was a profit in it. Everything has a price, and Vilhelm was much the same. You can call it a generation gap if you like. But you understand?’
‘Gut feeling again?’
‘More than gut feeling, I think.’
He looked up as the door creaked open.
‘Finished?’ Sunna María asked, standing behind her husband with her hands on his shoulders. ‘Jóhann’s tired. It’s been a long day. Hasn’t it, darling?’
‘I think we’ve discussed everything for the moment. Of course, if either of you hear of or from Elvar Pálsson, then I’d appreciate it if you let me know.’
‘He’s in danger, do you think?’ Sunna María asked, eyes wide.
‘I’ve no idea, but until we can find out what happened to Vilhelm Thorleifsson, then I can’t rule anything out.’
‘Do you have any leads?’ Jóhann asked, biting his lip.
‘I can’t say. My colleagues are handling the investigation in Borgarfjördur, and I won’t know until tomorrow what progress has been made today.’
‘Are we in any danger, do you think?’
‘I can’t say, but I’d recommend that you take care. Don’t answer the door to anyone you don’t know. Don’t go out alone.’
‘How about protection?’ Sunna María asked. ‘Shouldn’t we have protection? I mean, if you think Elvar’s in danger, so could we be, surely?’
‘To be honest, we don’t have the manpower, unless there’s a very pressing reason.’
‘You mean, if someone killed one of us, the other one would be entitled to protection?’ Jóhann asked, and his face cracked into a wintry smile.
‘Something like that,’ Gunna said, and tore a sheet of paper from her notebook. She quickly wrote a number on it.
‘It’s not cheap, but try this person if you want some protection right away. I would have to convince my superiors that you need protection, so going private’s your only option. At least until someone starts breaking your windows.’
‘I need to piss,’ Orri said, trying to sound angry, but his tone came out as plaintive.
‘Piss, then,’ the voice said. ‘I’m not stopping you.’
‘Let me up, then.’
‘I didn’t say anything about getting up. If you need to piss, then you’ll have to do it where you are.’
Orri wondered how long he had been sitting in the chair. It felt an age and his bladder was bursting. He wondered if it was still night, or if it was daytime by now.
‘What time is it?’ he asked suddenly.
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘I want to know how long I’ve been kept here against my will.’
‘A little while, Orri Björnsson. Not as long as you might think, believe me.’
He could hear the swish of soft footsteps on the concrete floor.
‘Who are you?’ he demanded, his voice cracking as he began to panic and he fought against the bands of thick tape that fastened his hands together, struggling to stand up, but stopping as he found that more bands tied his feet to the legs of the chair.
‘Be careful, Orri Björnsson,’ the voice said softly. ‘If you tip the chair over nobody is going to help you up.’
He heard the legs of another chair scrape across the floor towards him.
‘Stay still, you fool,’ the voice snapped and Orri obeyed. ‘Full name?’
‘Orri Sigurgeir Björnsson.’
‘Date of birth?’
‘Eighteenth of March 1978. Why do you need to know that?’
‘Address?’
‘I’m not telling you until you tell me why.’
Orri gasped as he was immediately doused in freezing water, and he guessed as he struggled to get his breath back that the voice must have had a bucketful ready.
‘Address?’
‘Ferjubakki twenty.’
‘Which floor?’
‘Third,’ Orri answered in confusion, wheels turning in his mind at the curt questions.
‘Your mother’s name?’
‘Why do you want to know?’ Orri demanded, expecting another dousing, or worse. ‘It’s none of your fucking business.’
Instead there was silence for a moment before the voice spoke again, with a soft menace this time. ‘Your mother’s name?’
‘Her name was Ingibjörg Theódórsdóttir. She’s dead,’ he added without knowing why.
‘And you have a sister, Margrét Hildur Björnsdóttir, right? Does the name Elísabet Sólborg Höskuldsdóttir mean anything to you?’ the voice asked softly as Orri felt his mouth go dry and both the need to pee and the chill of the water soaking into his clothes were forgotten.
‘Yes,’ he croaked.
‘Good,’ the voice said with evident satisfaction. ‘As you can guess, Orri, while you have been sitting here in the dark, I’ve done a little research and know quite a bit about you, and by the time you get out of this place I’ll know a lot more. It never ceases to surprise me how much you can learn from a person’s phone. You’re a rather foolish young man, but it seems there are a few skills there that we might be able to use.’
‘We?’ Orri asked. ‘Who’s “we”?’
‘That’s something you don’t need to know, Orri. Just be happy that we haven’t decided to deal with you in a way that we normally would with someone who interferes. You understand? Normally you would have disappeared,’ the voice said smoothly. There was silence while the disembodied voice allowed its words to sink in. Orri gasped for breath inside the bag. ‘Tell me, Orri. Do you know who this house belongs to?’