‘Any idea who this was?’
Matti shook his head.
‘Do you know someone called Arngrímur Örn Arnarson?’
‘Should I?’’
Gunna placed a blow-up of the man’s national archive photo on the table. ‘Lived at a place called Grund, just outside Borgarnes.’
Matti hesitated. ‘Well, I did take Hardy there,’ he admitted finally. ‘But I didn’t go in. Just waited by the car.’
‘When was this?’
‘Not sure. Week before last?’
‘So why did you run for it?’
‘Scared. When I rang him up and said the coppers had been checking up on me, he went all quiet and said we should meet, and I don’t know why, but it didn’t seem right, so I thought, shit, best get out of the city for a while,’ Matti explained, words tripping over themselves as they tumbled out.
Gunna glanced at her watch and Matti continued. ‘I knew he’d seen me with the girls, y’know, driving them to places and that. And I know he knew me and Marika, y’know, sometimes . . . So I thought he might go and scare her, so I went and got her, told her it was a bit of a holiday, so off we went.’
‘To Auntie Lóa at Álfasteinn?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Sorry, Matti, I have to go. Look, you’re free to go later when you’ve made a statement, but I need to be able to reach you, so don’t go too far.’
‘I can’t,’ Matti said bitterly. ‘The taxi’s still in Hólmavík because your lot brought me down here in a cop car. Now I’d better go and tell Nonni the Taxi why his car’s not here.’
‘You do that. You’re living at Ugly Tóta’s still?’
Matti groaned. ‘If she hasn’t filled my room up with Latvians. Unless I can stay in a cell here for a day or two?’ he asked with hope in his eyes. ‘Like, until you’ve caught him?’
‘Is he really your cousin?’ Bára asked. They were standing outside in the car park, having left Matti to go back to sleep in a cell.
‘He is, I’m afraid,’ Gunna admitted. ‘And he’s been a pain in the arse to everyone around him since the day he was born. Now, you heard what he said: ‘‘This is a message to your friend to make it stop.’’ Egill Grímsson and Einar Eyjólfur were both killed discreetly, if we can describe it that way. But Arngrímur was different. I don’t think Hårde intended to kill him at all, just provide a painful message. Do you get the impression that this was maybe a message for someone else?’
‘Hard to tell. Who is this a message for, do you think?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I’d say Skandalblogger,’ Bára said with conviction.
‘Why?’
‘We know Hårde’s worked for Spearpoint. Sigurjóna Huldudóttir and Bjarni Jón are constantly being skewered by the blogger, and the whole country reads it.’
‘Fair enough,’ Gunna agreed. ‘In that case, I’d like you to get back in there and put some pressure on Matti to get as much detail as he can remember on who this guy was that Hårde wanted to frighten. Could be a lead to this blogger and to Arngrímur’s associates.’
Bára nodded. ‘When do you want me back in Keflavík?’
‘Whenever you’re done. I’ll get Snorri or someone to come and pick you up unless one of them here can run you back to us. You can tell Matti from me that Cousin Gunna will make his life hell if he doesn’t cooperate.’
‘What going on here?’ Bára asked as Gunna stopped the car outside the glass and concrete block where Spearpoint’s offices occupied a floor near the top.
Every parking space was full, with faces behind the windscreen of every car. A camera crew was in the process of setting up its equipment on the forecourt outside the building, to the consternation of the huddles of people on their way home through the crush of the evening rush hour traffic.
Gunna double-parked across the row of spaces reserved for directors and they made their way slowly through the gathering crowd. Gunna scanned for a familiar face and eventually alighted on Jonni Kristinns, sitting in a tired grey Skoda parked in a disabled spot. She tapped on the window and Jonni looked around and grinned at her. The window hissed open.
‘Gunna, my dear. Good to see you.’
‘And you, Jonni. What the hell’s going on?’
Jonni tapped the side of his nose theatrically. ‘Ah. That’s what we’d all like to know.’
‘Come on. Spill the beans, old lad,’ Gunna instructed. ‘No bullshit, now.’
‘Rumour has it that InterAlu is pulling out of its deal with Spearpoint. Nothing’s been confirmed and nothing’s been denied. Not a word so far.’
‘Big news, then?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Jonni said, licking dry lips. ‘Top story. Timing’s just right as well. Too late for the TV news and not too late for our morning edition.’
‘Is Sigurjóna in her office?’
Jonni shrugged. ‘No idea. We’re just waiting to see what happens. It’s a hell of a story if it’s true.’
‘Won’t this leave her in trouble?’
‘And how. They have some colossal financial commitments and if their partner has pulled out, it means that Sigurjóna and her unpleasant husband have been royally shafted up their collective back passage. Of course, it could just as well be that the bank has run out of cash and is doing the same, without the benefit of lubrication, as one of my colleagues put it rather graphically this morning.’
‘Of course, now you’d never say anything as disgusting as that, would you, Jonni?’
‘Well, not in print, anyway. Hello,’ he said, looking up. ‘Got to run, Gunna, looks like something’s happening.’
With a speed that surprised Gunna, Jonni was out of the car and at the forefront of the scrum that formed around the door as Jón Oddur, red-faced and sweating, appeared to face a barrage of questions.
Gunna and Bára stood at the back of the group to listen as Jón Oddur floundered.
‘Quiet, please. Quiet,’ he pleaded with the crowd of microphones in his face and the staccato rattle of questions being fired at him. He pulled a sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket and unfolded it, blinking as flashes went off in his face.
‘I have a prepared statement to read. I am not authorized to answer any questions afterwards. I will read this only once.’
He looked around him at the microphones, raised the sheet of paper and read in halting, careful English: ‘Spearpoint values its ongoing business relationship with InterAlu and is fully confident that this is set to continue to our mutual benefit. We are at present engaged in cooperative negotiations with InterAlu and its partners to extend and expand our current partnerships across the business environment.’
Jón Oddur paused and looked up at the expectant faces around him before taking a deep breath. ‘Spearpoint’s senior management has built up a positive working relationship with the heads of InterAlu’s European business development division and we fully expect this to continue. Speculation of a rift between Spearpoint subsidiaries ESC and Bay Metals, and InterAlu is completely unfounded and has no basis in actuality. As media professionals ourselves, we are fully aware of the need to respond to unfounded rumours and we would ask our colleagues at the front line of news reporting for a level of circumspection in reporting unverified and unverifiable hearsay. Message ends. Thank you.’
‘Jón Oddur, what’s InterAlu’s take on all this?’
‘Is Sigurjóna going to make a statement herself?’
‘How many jobs are going to be lost when InterAlu pull out?’
‘How much money does Sigurjóna personally stand to lose on this?’
The questions came thick and fast, while Jón Oddur slowly turned and began to make his way back to the door, carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone in his way.