Letting himself in through the back door of Erna’s darkened house, he wondered just how soon the Mercedes’ owner would be missed. The elderly man who had spluttered with fury when he found Hårde watching his TV wore a wedding ring, so presumably his wife would raise the alarm sooner or later. Presumably finding the white truck parked behind the summer house would put the police on to the trail of the Mercedes, but that couldn’t be helped. The system alarm bleeped its warning and Hårde quickly punched in the number to disarm it. Without turning on any lights, he made his way through the house, taking in the aroma of Erna that he could smell everywhere.
The spacious bathroom sat at the middle of the house, the only room with no outside windows. Hårde clicked on the light and shut the door before turning on the hot water and opening one of the cabinets to survey the rows of jars and bottles jumbled on to the shelves.
Late in the afternoon and everyone was tired. The search was in progress for Ágúst Vilmundsson’s scruffy pickup. The reported sightings of Hårde had slowed to a trickle. Snorri was back at the airport checking flights and working with the airport police on monitoring the hundreds of people passing through the departure lounge.
Bára yawned to herself, aching to sign off and sleep for a few hours.
‘All the prints match up,’ she told Gunna. ‘All the fingerprints from the guesthouse in Mjósundsvegur, the flat in Hverfisgata and the Toyota rental car. All the same person.’
‘The cheeky, impudent bastard.’
Vilhjálmur Traustason appeared silently, accompanied again by Ívar Laxdal, hugging a slim briefcase to his chest and sporting a military-style black beret instead of his usual uniform cap.
‘Progress, Gunnhildur?’
‘Ach, our man pops up and then he’s gone by the time we get anywhere near him. The phone he was using is dead, I reckon, so no chance of tracking him through that. He had a rental car that he ditched in Hafnarfjördur and we’re as sure as we can be that he stole a white pickup and drove off in that. The search is on for that, but he may have switched cars twice more since then, for all we know.’
Gunna ran a hand through her hair, leaving it sticking up at angles. ‘I’m telling you, Vilhjálmur, this is one sly bastard. We’ve never had to deal with anyone like this before. He’s a real artist.’
‘What do you think your chances of apprehending this character are?’ Ívar Laxdal asked quietly, and Gunna thought quickly.
‘The longer he’s running about, the better the likelihood of picking him up. Iceland’s not a big place and there are only so many ways out. But this guy has some highly placed friends somewhere.’
‘Do you mean the company he was working for here?’
‘Something like that. Although with the news we’ve seen of their business today, I’d imagine they have other fish to fry right now.’
She drummed her fingers on the desk, wondering whether or not to tell him that deep down she had little hope that Hårde would now be found.
‘I don’t doubt that as long as he’s in Iceland we’ll find him,’ she decided. ‘Assuming he is still in the country, he can’t stay that many steps ahead for long and even a pro like this guy will make a mistake or be unlucky sooner or later. What really worries me more than anything is if he’s confronted by a police officer without backup, how far is he prepared to go?’
‘Meaning what?’
‘This guy has murdered three people already and could easily have killed that Danish guy if he’d wanted to. I’m convinced he didn’t kill him because he was a better diversion alive than as a corpse so that while we buzzed around like flies, he had a breathing space to run for it.’
‘What are you asking for, Gunnhildur?’ Vilhjálmur said.
‘I need an armed response team I can call on when I need them.’
‘I see. Excuse me for a moment,’ Ívar Laxdal said as the mobile phone in his top pocket chimed. He checked the display and answered in an undertone. He looked up quickly at the group.
‘One minute. I’ll be right back,’ he said as he clicked the door shut behind him, phone back at his ear.
‘I don’t know if I have the authority to mobilize the Special Unit,’ Vilhjálmur said. ‘Is this man armed?’
‘I doubt it, although it’s possible. He seems dangerous enough without a gun.’
Vilhjálmur pursed his lips. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘I’m sure laughing boy in the corridor can mobilize the toy soldiers easily enough,’ Gunna said. ‘Anyway, I have things to do.’
‘Where are you putting your effort now?’
Gunna wanted to tell him that any slight lead would be welcome, but refrained.
‘Right now we’re checking every kind of transport link there is. Snorri’s liaising with the international airport. We’ve got flights monitored for anything unusual scheduled to leave the country. Luckily all the squillionaires seem to be hiding at the moment, so there aren’t that many private jets on the move.’
Vilhjálmur looked sour at the reference to the conflicting reports that had been scattering the news all day on the deepening financial crisis.
‘The rest of us are watching shipping at the moment,’ she continued.
‘Trawlers?’
‘Hardly, Vilhjálmur. Short-haul commercial shipping mostly. There are still a few yachts and cruise ships about, but I don’t think they’re likely.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘I’m not too worried about the cruise ships. Port control in Reykjavík is pretty strict and we can worry about that tomorrow anyway. I’m not too fussed about Hafnarfjördur, as the port is so trussed up by security and CCTV that unless he has a cast-iron way into the area, there should be alarm bells ringing in our guy’s head.’
Gunna rested her chin on her hands and tried to think clearly as Ívar Laxdal returned to the room, his phone stowed back in his top pocket.
‘Sorry. I had a few calls to make. Now, were you saying something about armed response?’
‘Yes, Vilhjálmur and I were discussing it.’
‘Fine. It’s authorized. You have seventy-two hours in which you can alert a six-man team. Echo Squad are already on manoeuvres not far from here, so they can respond fast. I have already alerted their commanding officer.’
‘Bloody hell, you work fast,’ Gunna said appreciatively.
Clearly not used to being addressed with such familiarity by a provincial sergeant, he opened his mouth and then closed it with the words unsaid.
‘Keep me posted, please. Check with me within forty-eight hours if you need an extension,’ he finally said frostily, sweeping from the room with Vilhjálmur close behind him.
35
Friday, 3 October
Rain again threatened to break through. Hårde enjoyed the sight of the majestic grey and black clouds rolling across the morning sky just as Gunna looked at them with annoyance and wished the bloody rain would let up for an hour or two.
In the mirror he critically examined the dark tint that his hair had taken, courtesy of a tube of hair dye from Erna’s bathroom. The expensive sunglasses he had found in her bedroom would only go dark in bright light. He didn’t like the dark hair, but an all-over crop in a few days would take it out.