Orri checked his tools. Nothing had been left behind. He was at the bottom of the stairs when the deep-throated rumble of motorcycles outside made him freeze. The sound dropped to an idle and he could hear that they were parked on the forecourt at the front of the building as he wondered how many there were. Two? More? At least two, he decided, and stole across the workshop, slipping out of the back door and shutting it behind him just as the big double doors at the front swung open and lights flickered on.
He broke out into a cold sweat as he jogged through the deserted industrial estate, stopping only to take the bags from his feet and roll off the surgical gloves, dropping them into a waste container outside another dark building. Forced by the arrival of at least a few of the Undertakers to take a roundabout route, it was a long walk back to the car, during which he reflected that he’d had a very lucky escape. Gradually his nerves turned to euphoria as the familiar buzz stole through him. He walked faster, rolling his balaclava back and fighting back an urge to laugh out loud and punch the air.
Chapter Nine
The hammering on the door gradually worked its way into her consciousness and Emilija fumbled for the clock. The sight of a luminous 0420 was not a welcome one and she moved carefully to avoid waking the toddler asleep next to her. She padded to the door, a dressing gown thrown on hurriedly and tied around her as she pushed strands of hair away from her face.
He clicked on the outside light and could see a shadow on the other side of the door.
‘Who is it?’
‘It’s me, Alex. Let me in, will you, Emilija?’
‘What do you want? It’s four in the morning. I have to go to work in a few hours.’
‘I just wanted to see you.’
There was a plaintive quality to his voice that she hadn’t heard before as she debated with herself whether or not to let him in.
‘What’s the matter, Alex? Are you drunk, or something?’
‘I’m not drunk, I swear.’
‘That’s what you said last time.’
‘Please, Emilija. I swear, I just wanted to see you.’
With a sinking feeling that she was doing the wrong thing, Emilija clicked the lock and Alex practically fell through the door, shutting it quickly behind him with a sigh of relief that he could not hide.
‘Thank God,’ he breathed, and threw his arms around her.
‘Alex, what do you want?’ Emilija demanded. ‘It’s the middle of the night.’
‘I know. I missed you, darling,’ he wheedled, lifting a hand to her cheek to stroke it.
‘Get off,’ she said, slapping his hand away. ‘What’s happened? Have you been thrown out of your place?’
‘No, of course not.’
Emilija turned and made for the little flat’s living room with its bed against one wall. She perched on the edge of the bed, and when Alex made to sit next to her, she pushed him away.
‘No, sit there,’ she ordered, pointing to the only armchair. ‘And don’t make a noise. Anton’s asleep.’
‘Ah, he’s such a sweet child.’
‘Yeah. That’s not what you said when he cried in the night.’
‘I’m sorry. I was drunk that time and it won’t happen again.’
Alex’s eyes flickered around the room, stopping repeatedly on the window, as if he were expecting to be followed.
‘What the hell have you done this time?’
‘Nothing.’ Alex protested. ‘Nothing at all. I couldn’t sleep and I was thinking of you all the time.’
‘So you got up at four in the morning to make sure I wasn’t asleep as well? Or to make sure I didn’t have anyone else here? Is that it?’
‘Don’t be silly, Emilija. I trust you.’
‘Alex, we’re not a couple. I slept with you a few times and you walked off as if it meant nothing to you.’
‘But it did,’ Alex said, standing up and coming across to her. ‘Of course it did. I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy.’
‘And you think I haven’t?’
He shifted to sit next to her and clasped her hands in his. ‘Emilija, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been so thoughtless.’
‘You’re a heartless bastard, Alex.’
‘Emilija,’ he breathed, stroking a wisp of loose hair away from her face and moving closer for a kiss as he wrapped his arms around her. Emilija felt herself sink into his muscular arms and returned his kiss, surprising herself at her own eagerness. Alex’s hand plucked at the dressing gown and pulled it from one shoulder while the other slipped inside. She felt herself being gently pushed back onto the bed as Alex ran one hand through the thick hair at the back of her head.
‘I’ve missed you so much,’ he crooned as he pulled the dressing gown wide open and a hand was suddenly under her T-shirt and cupping a breast.
‘No, Alex. Not now, not again,’ Emilija whispered unconvincingly as she made to sit up and shake him off.
‘Come on, sweetheart. You don’t know how much I want you.’
‘No, stop. Alex. Stop,’ Emilija said firmly, and pulled herself upright as a moan from the other side of the bed called her to where Anton was sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
‘Mummy. Who’s the man?’
He crawled across the bed and into her arms as Alex retreated. Emilija pulled the dressing gown closed around herself and Anton.
‘It’s all right, my darling. It’s only Alex. You remember Uncle Alex, don’t you?’
Anton nodded sleepily and huddled closer. As Emilija rocked back and forth, his eyelids drooped and he gradually fell asleep in her arms, but not before Alex was also stretched out and snoring.
Eiríkur’s quick response took Lárus Erlendsson by surprise, arriving at the Selfoss police station with his sheaf of screengrabs from the city surveillance cameras before he had even had his first mug of coffee.
‘They’re good pictures, aren’t they?’ He observed as he leafed through them at Eiríkur’s side in the tired Polo from the police car pool.
‘You could make out someone’s Visa card number if you wanted to,’ Eiríkur said. ‘Where is this place?’
‘Straight on past the farm at Mýri and it’s the next left after that.’
Eiríkur understood that he was expected to know the farm at Mýri, but said nothing and waited for a sign. When it finally appeared from the flat landscape, he dutifully signalled and turned, bumping the car down a dirt road.
‘This is it?’
‘Over there.’
Lárus Erlendsson pointed to a row of low buildings that looked dilapidated from a distance, but as they approached turned out to be immaculate stables painted the same shade as the dun-coloured hills that rose gently behind. Eiríkur stopped the car and the silence after the rumble of the gravel road from Selfoss flooded in as he opened the door. The quiet and the view took him by surprise, even after the drive over the Hellisheidi heath that morning. The only sounds to be heard once the car’s engine had been shut down were muffled laughter and conversation from the stables and birdsong all around, while a mountain of towering white cloud formed a backdrop to the distant mountains where sunlight made the white tips glitter.
Eiríkur followed Lárus into the stable and wrinkled his nose at the overwhelming smell of horses and hay that met him and made Lárus breathe deep.
‘Ah, that’s better,’ he said.
‘You keep horses as well?’
‘We have six horses here, me and my wife between us.’
‘Are there many members?’ Eiríkur asked, inspecting a noticeboard pinned with announcements and cleaning rotas.
‘About sixty, altogether.’
‘Sixty? I’m amazed.’
‘Why’s that?’ Lárus grunted in a tone that indicated offence had been taken.
‘I didn’t expect this place to be so big. I thought there might be a dozen people.’