He would bet that was what Dísa had been fiddling with on her computer.
Magnus knew that the police should find out what Dísa was up to as soon as possible and put a stop to it. And yet... he trusted her. Thomocoin’s assets, such as they were, would probably be tied up in legal limbo for years. As would Sharp’s and Jói’s, if anyone could find them.
Maybe that was what Dísa had done? Maybe she had found those assets and was sending them back to where they belonged?
Magnus liked that idea.
The various Icelandic authorities had turned a blind eye to the activities of Thomocoin for too long. A little more of a delay would be entirely consistent with that policy.
Magnus had called Árni back and told him to leave it with him. He would look into it. In his own time.
He had called Agent Malley in New York and the guy from the DA’s office in North Carolina the night before to tell them that Krakatoa had been arrested. Jói was going to be popular with the world’s law-enforcement officers.
What happened to Sharp wasn’t Magnus’s problem either. The guy deserved to be prosecuted for the Thomocoin scam, but at least he had warned Magnus about Jói. That, Magnus was be grateful for. If they managed to extract him from Panama, Magnus would speak up for him.
If.
As he walked from the terminal at the City Airport to where he had parked his car, his phone buzzed.
Another text from Eygló. She had texted him three times the evening before, and once already this morning.
She wanted to talk to him. With all that was going on in Dalvík, he hadn’t felt able to talk to her. At least not to say what he knew he had to say.
He unlocked the car, sat in the driver’s seat and called her number.
‘Hi,’ she said. She sounded nervous rather than angry.
‘Hi,’ said Magnus.
‘Where are you?’
‘At the City Airport. Just got back from Akureyri. The Dalvík murder cases blew up.’
‘Did you catch the guy who did it?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Good.’
‘Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t call you and tell you I wouldn’t be at your place last night.’
‘You said you would be. I told you it was important.’
‘You did,’ said Magnus.
There was a moment’s silence on the phone. ‘I said “yes” to Southampton.’
‘I didn’t know they’d even offered you the job yet?’
‘They hadn’t. It was one of those stupid “if we were to offer you the job, would you take it?” things. They said they needed to know right away — something to do with department politics or visas after Brexit or something. I didn’t completely understand it. But I said “yes”.’
Magnus knew a response was required from him. And he knew what it was.
‘Good.’
More silence. Eventually, she spoke. ‘Good for me or good for you?’
‘Good for both of us.’
Silence.
‘We should talk about this properly,’ Magnus said. ‘Honestly. I know we haven’t up till now and it’s been my fault. I’ll see you at seven this evening, I promise.’
‘Will you?’
‘I will.’ He hung up.
He felt guilty about Eygló. He hadn’t spoken to her openly about how he felt over the last few weeks. He hadn’t known how. But he was sure that her decision was best for both of them.
He was supposed to be going straight to police headquarters at Hverfisgata, but instead he drove to Vesturbaer.
He had no idea whether she would be in, but he had to try.
She didn’t answer the bell on the first ring. But she did on the second.
He leaned into the intercom. ‘It’s Magnús.’
‘I’ll be right down.’
Magnus shifted from foot to foot; he found the thirty seconds he spent waiting at the door to her building an eternity.
Eventually, she opened it and shot him an anxious glance.
But then she saw his grin. Her grey eyes sparkled and a warm smile of happiness spread across her face.
‘Come in,’ she said.
Author’s Note
It was unusually important to pin down the precise time at which the majority of the events in this book took place. During 2020 the coronavirus/COVID-19 pandemic broke out and bitcoin prices fell and subsequently exploded. I decided on September 2020.
Throughout that year, a blizzard of bewildering, ever-changing rules and regulations relating to the epidemic engulfed the world. After an initial first wave in the spring, Iceland had got the pandemic pretty much under control. During that summer life almost returned to normal, with the noticeable exception of the lack of tourists. Many of the regulations that were prevalent in other countries, such as the wearing of masks, were absent. There were some restrictions — large gatherings at funerals were controversial that September — but in general the virus and its attendant regulations were much less intrusive in Iceland than they were in other countries at the same time.
During the autumn cases ticked up, as they did in many other countries, and by the end of the year, Iceland suffered a new wave of infections and hospitalizations, which provoked a further lockdown.
Twenty seventeen was an extraordinary time for bitcoin. The trades I describe Dísa making in the book, which increased her investment sixtyfold, could have been made at real prices achieved by bitcoin and Ethereum during the year. The following year, 2018, prices fell 80 per cent.
Twenty twenty was if anything more of a roller-coaster. Prices of bitcoin fell to $4,000 in March at the beginning of the pandemic, then recovered strongly, breaking $10,000 at the end of September. But in the three months after this book ends, prices rose even faster, reaching $29,000 by the end of the year and $60,000 by March 2021.
As I write this, I have no idea what the status of the COVID-19 pandemic will be when you read it. Nor do I have any clue about the price of bitcoin: it could be anything from $1,000 to $200,000. Which uncertainty is great for gamblers who feel lucky, but should trouble the rest of us.
I should like to thank the following people for their help: Björk Hólm, Bragi Thór Valsson, Michael Olmsted, Richenda Todd, Liz Hatherell, my agents Oli Munson and Florence Rees, and my wife Barbara. None of the characters in this book are based on real people. In particular, Inspector Ólafur of the Akureyri police is not based on the real detective of the same name, who is, by all accounts, a charming man.