The nurse brought Jósteinn in, introduced him and reminded Thóra that she would be within earshot if they needed her. Thóra saw a grin flicker across Jósteinn’s face at this, although the nurse had been careful to word it as if she were offering to bring them coffee if they called for it. He clearly realized that Thóra was nervous, so the balance of power was irrelevant. It was no use letting it get to her, so Thóra collected herself and calmly invited him to sit. Refusing to meet her eye, he accepted her invitation with the same sarcastic smile as before, choosing the sofa across from her chair. She followed his example and sat. Jósteinn was slim, and although the clothes he wore were not at all fitted, Thóra could tell from his sinewy neck and hands that he was strong. He appeared to have dark hair, but it could have been the gel or wax he’d applied making it look darker than it was. It looked almost as though he’d just been swimming, and in one place the clear substance had run down his cheek, leaving a shiny streak on his bony, rat-like face. He still hadn’t looked directly at her.
‘Are you comfortable?’ he said. Although the question was courteous, his tone was faintly mocking. ‘I hardly ever have visitors, so I want your visit to be as pleasant as possible. They wanted to put us in a meeting room, but I thought it was too formal so I asked if we could meet here.’ He narrowed his grey eyes at the coffee table between them and pursed his thin lips. ‘I hardly ever have visitors,’ he repeated, then smiled unconvincingly. ‘Never, in fact.’
‘It might be easier if you got straight to the point.’ Thóra was generally much politer to people she met through work, but Jósteinn made her so uneasy that she was going to find it hard to avoid being downright rude to him. ‘I’ve acquainted myself with your case as best I can, but I don’t know what it is you expect of me. Naturally, I would prefer it if you just told me.’
‘Naturally?’ Jósteinn looked up at her now. ‘What’s natural? I’ve never been able to figure that out.’ He sniggered nastily. ‘If I had, we wouldn’t be sitting here.’
‘No, probably not.’ Thóra opened her briefcase. ‘You’ve been here at Sogn for eight years or thereabouts. Is that right?’
‘Yes. No. I’m not too sure. Numbers and I don’t mix. They lay traps for me, then I fall in and can’t get out.’
Thóra didn’t want to know what he meant. She had all the evidence she needed: he was still ill. Whether he was still dangerous was another matter, although Thóra felt fairly confident that he was. ‘Trust me, it’s been pretty close to eight years.’ She regarded him as he nodded apathetically. ‘Do you miss your freedom?’
‘I’ve come to consider myself just as free here as anywhere else.’ Jósteinn waited, perhaps expecting Thóra to contradict him, and continued when she said nothing. ‘Freedom is multifaceted, it’s not just about locked doors and bars on the windows. The kind of freedom I long for doesn’t exist, in my opinion, so I’d never be completely free anywhere. Here is no worse than anywhere else.’
Thóra had no idea how to get the conversation on to a more even footing. ‘Do you have anything to occupy you? Do they have recreational activities, arts and crafts, anything like that?’ She couldn’t envision the man with scissors and glue, unless he were gluing someone’s lips shut to stop them screaming as he stabbed them with the scissors.
Jósteinn laughed woodenly, like a bad actor auditioning for a comedy. The laughter stopped as abruptly as it had begun, and he straightened in his chair. ‘There are activities, yes. One guy embroiders pillows, and as you can see he’s been here quite a long time. I work on repairing broken computers that we get for free from the government. The work suits me fine. It’s what I did before I came here.’ He pointed out of the window. ‘And Jakob works in the greenhouse, growing herbs and lettuces.’
Thóra turned and watched the two men come out of the little greenhouse, their buckets appearing much heavier now than when they’d gone in. It was clear now that the chubbier one did have Down’s syndrome. ‘Very practical.’ She very much wanted to ask what Jakob had done; as far as she knew, people with Down’s were usually peaceful and good-natured. Of course this went for most people, and it was the exceptions to the rule who ended up here.
‘He’s my friend. A good friend.’ For the first time Jósteinn seemed to be speaking sincerely. It didn’t last long. He turned away from the window. ‘Is it possible to reopen old cases? To overturn a conviction and get an acquittal, if you’re innocent?’
Thóra was prepared for this question, and had in fact been waiting for it. ‘Yes, if there is strong enough evidence of wrongful conviction.’
‘I’ve recently become a rich man. Did you know that?’
Thóra shook her head. Was he delusional? ‘No, I haven’t looked into your finances. Have you made a profit from your computer work?’ Perhaps his definition of ‘rich’ was different to hers.
‘I inherited money from my mother. Now everything I am and everything I own comes from her.’ His features softened into a dopey smile and Thóra recalled reading about his difficult childhood and the genetic nature of his condition. He had probably been raised by an unfit mother, a female version of himself.
‘She was hit by a car, you see, and because she was paralysed she got benefits. She died soon after, and now the benefits and everything else she owned are mine. I’m getting rid of all her personal belongings but the money, I’m keeping.’
‘Do you have a trustee?’ asked Thóra. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t be allowed control over his own finances.
‘No. But I do have a supervisor. He’s never been to see me; I’ve not even had a phone call.’ Jósteinn spoke dispassionately, as if unaware of the significance of this. ‘I want to use the money to reopen an old case. I don’t have much use for it otherwise. Luckily, too much time has passed since I was convicted for the boy I messed with to sue me for damages. Or rather, for his relatives to sue me – I heard he lost his marbles.’ Jósteinn grinned, seeming to find the idea amusing.
There was a sudden knock on the window. Thóra couldn’t conceal her shock, and Jósteinn looked delighted. ‘It’s just Jakob, wanting to know who’s come to see me. As I told you, I’ve never had a visitor.’ He smiled again. ‘Which is understandable, of course.’
Thóra stared back at the beaming face with thick-lensed glasses pressed up against the window. Jakob ran his muddy hands down the pane, leaving brown smears, before waving enthusiastically at Thóra. She waved back. ‘Why is he in here?’ The question slipped out before she had a chance to stop it.
Jósteinn did not seem rattled. ‘He killed five people in an arson attack, just like that. It was amazing.’
‘Yes, an extraordinary case.’ Thóra remembered it, as it wasn’t an everyday occurrence for people to burn to death in Iceland. It had been overshadowed by the financial crash, which had happened at the same time. ‘Was it about eighteen months ago?’
‘I think so.’ Jósteinn flapped his hand dismissively, as if the timing of the fire were an irrelevance. ‘He’s only about twenty, and he’ll probably spend most of the rest of his life in here. People like him often have weak hearts, so he might die before he ever gets out.’
They seemed to be getting off-course again. Thóra said, ‘I think I ought to tell you that I don’t believe there’s much to warrant reopening your case. You were caught red-handed, so to speak, and I can’t see how you could come up with a new explanation for what happened without very compelling new evidence. The verdict looks bulletproof, and I can’t see that there was anything untoward in how the case was tried.’