‘Plenty.’ The look of outrage over the arrangements at the unit faded slowly from Ari’s face and was replaced by a more serious expression. His eyes flicked to the side and he stared at the rubbish on the floor by his desk instead of meeting Thóra’s gaze, as he had done until now. ‘I think what frustrated me most is that it seemed like money had been poured into the construction of this centre, but not into other comparable enterprises. I looked briefly into whether this was normal, to throw equipment and employees at an establishment as if we were a wealthy oil empire, and it wasn’t. The only reason that place had as much put into it as it did was because one of the prospective residents had connections in high places. He was accepted instead of others on the waiting list, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Corruption is everywhere, as you no doubt know.’ The sudden look of horror on Ari’s face, which he immediately tried to hide, suggested that he’d accidentally said something he’d been trying not to mention.
‘Who do you mean? Which of the residents?’ asked Thóra.
Ari threw up his hands. ‘Sorry, I don’t remember. I’ll look it up later and send you an e-mail.’ He didn’t ask her for her e-mail address, so clearly this e-mail would never be sent. She would have to find out by other means.
‘Could this corruption, or whatever it was, have been the reason behind the fire?’ Thóra had no idea how that might be the case, but who knew, maybe someone whose child hadn’t been admitted had lost it when it turned out that the offspring of someone better-connected had queue-jumped the waiting list.
‘No.’ Ari shook his head. ‘I’ve told you that Jakob is the guilty party. He started the fire and that’s the end of it. Maybe he didn’t realize the consequences it would have but he did it nonetheless. Isn’t he doing OK at Sogn? It can’t be all that different to living at the residence.’
The image of Jakob’s face as he’d pressed up against the window when Thóra visited the Secure Psychiatric Unit flashed across her mind. ‘I think he’s having a terrible time there. Really terrible.’
‘Aw…’ Ari’s expression of sympathy was entirely devoid of sincerity. ‘Well, at least the people there are more like him. That care home was a bag of mixed nuts, get it? Those poor fuckers had nothing in common. Another shitty idea dreamed up by the bureaucrats.’
‘Oh?’
‘Someone had the genius idea of trying to run an institution for individuals who have totally different disabilities. It was supposed to be a great master-plan for some reason, though I’ll never understand why. It was because they put so much pressure on Jakob’s mother that he moved in. They needed a mongoloid; they’re generally all aborted these days, which meant there weren’t many of them in his age group to choose from when the admissions selections were made.’
‘Down’s syndrome.’ Thóra had to correct him. He was clearly unaware of the proper terms when it came to discussing people outside his narrow definition of normality. And to think she’d been worried about her own use of language.
‘Whatever.’
‘But didn’t the person he leapfrogged at the top of the waiting list also meet a requirement for a particular type of disability, one that others didn’t have?’
Ari waved his hands as if he were being pestered by an invisible fly. ‘What’s that? No – he was autistic and they’re a dime a dozen. It doesn’t show up on the ultrasound, you see.’ He winked at Thóra conspiratorially.
‘Right.’ Thóra tried hard not to frown; she had no desire to encourage any more of these comments, but she also didn’t want to shock the man into refusing to lend her the files. This whole encounter was excruciating, but she would have to put up with it until he handed her the stack of papers that was on the verge of falling over onto the rubbish on his desk. One thing was clear, at least: the person who had jumped the queue must have been Tryggvi, the autistic resident.
Ari suddenly stretched out one hand, nearly knocking over the stack of papers. ‘Just so you know what to expect…’ He unfastened the buttons on his shirtsleeve and rolled it up, revealing a fat pink arm that clearly hadn’t done a scrap of physical labour in years. In the middle of it a large, shiny, horseshoe-shaped scar was clearly visible. ‘Jakob, your current client, did this. That’s how sweet and innocent he is.’
Thóra couldn’t take her eyes off the unsightly, uneven skin. ‘What happened?’
Ari pulled his sleeve back down. ‘He bit me. Just took a piece right out of me.’
‘Unprovoked?’
‘Of course – what, you think I deliberately made him angry?’ He refastened the button. ‘He simply bent me over the table where we were sitting and took a bite.’
‘What were you discussing?’
‘Just some stuff about the case. I don’t remember precisely, but it wasn’t anything upsetting or significant.’
Ari pushed the files carefully an inch closer to Thóra. ‘I didn’t even report it, so no one can say I didn’t protect my client’s interests. I should have bowed out of the case, of course, but we were about to go to court and like a fool, I felt uncomfortable about the idea. You, on the other hand, can still quit – and that’s what I’d recommend you do. A scar like this would doubtless do you more harm than me. And I wasn’t the only one he hurt; he often attacked the people who lived with him, staff as well as residents. This isn’t the only scar that he has on his conscience. He’s prone to violence, as well as being guilty. That’s all there is to it.’
‘You don’t remember how you came to be chosen to defend Jakob? I can tell from what you’ve said that he’s not exactly the kind of client you like to work for.’
‘No, hardly. He’s the worst client I’ve ever had.’ He seemed contemplative, but it wasn’t convincing. ‘But how I ended up defending him… I just can’t remember. Probably the police suggested me.’ He smiled and patted the stack of files. ‘It was a huge mistake for you to take this case, but as I said, you can still back out. My bloody arm still hurts now.’
Thóra took the files. She didn’t think she would withdraw from the case, but she was certain that she would be very careful around Jakob. ‘Thanks for the warning.’ She had arranged a meeting with her client the next day at Sogn, and she was definitely taking Matthew with her. She wouldn’t be alone with Jakob, that much was clear.
CHAPTER 8
Friday, 8 January 2010
The meeting with the lawyer had gone worse than Glódís could have imagined. In truth, before their encounter she had given little thought to what they might discuss; had thought that it would be smooth and easy work to convince this Thóra of Jakob’s guilt, and subsequently to persuade her not to dig any further into the case. To her mind there was no doubt about his part in the horrific deed, so this should have been a piece of cake for Glódís, but she hadn’t reckoned on the woman being so well prepared and their conversation taking such an unexpected turn. How could she have known that the lawyer had access to all of the court documents on the case? Glódís had assumed they would have been locked up after the sentence was pronounced. In retrospect, she had no idea why she had thought this to be the case, but she’d been dead wrong. This was a bloody mess. She couldn’t afford for this case to be reopened. She’d suffered enough because of it in her career, and only now was the fall-out from it finally starting to dissipate. Glódís had lost count of all the meetings she’d been called to because of everything that had come up during the investigation and the trial. That whole time she’d felt like an outsider in her workplace; no one spoke to her voluntarily for fear that her unpopularity with the higher-ups was infectious. She didn’t know how she’d get through it if it happened all over again.