“All that Einar needed to do was to pretend to create a sample and have the names decoded, all with the help of the data privacy committee.”
“He lied and tricked everyone and he got away with it.”
“I can understand how this could be embarrassing for you.”
“Einar is among our top management here and one of our most capable scientists. A fine man. Why did he do it?” the director asked.
“He lost his daughter,” Erlendur said. “Didn’t you know about that?”
“No,” she said, staring at him.
“How long’s he been working here?”
“Two years.”
“It was some time before then.”
“How did he lose his daughter?”
“She had a genetically transmitted neural disease. He was the carrier but didn’t know about the disease in his family.”
“A question of paternity?”
Erlendur didn’t answer her. Felt he’d said enough.
“That’s one of the problems with this kind of genealogy database. Diseases tend to jump out of the family tree at random and then pop up again where you least expected them.”
Erlendur stood up. “And you keep all these secrets. Old family secrets. Tragedies, sorrows and death, all carefully classified in computers. Family stories and stories of individuals. Stories about me and you. You keep the whole secret and can call it up whenever you want. A Jar City for the whole nation.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Karitas said. “A Jar City?”
“No, of course not,” Erlendur said and took his leave.
42
When Erlendur got back to his flat that evening there was still no word about Einar. His family had gathered at his parents’ house. Albert had checked out of his hotel in the afternoon and returned home after an emotional telephone conversation with Katrin. Their elder sons were there with their wives and Einar’s ex-wife soon joined them. Elinborg and Sigurdur Oli had spoken to her earlier that day but she said she couldn’t imagine where Einar was staying. He hadn’t been in touch with her for about half a year.
Eva Lind arrived home soon after Erlendur and he told her all about the investigation. Fingerprints found at Holberg’s flat matched Einar’s own prints from his home on Storagerdi.
He had finally gone to meet his father and had apparently murdered him. Erlendur also told Eva Lind about Gretar, how the only palpable theory about his disappearance and death was that Gretar had been blackmailing Holberg in some way, prob-ably with photographs. Exactly what they showed was uncertain but based on the evidence they had Erlendur thought that it wasn’t unlikely that Gretar had photographed what Holberg got up to, even rapes no-one knew about and would probably never surface after all this time. The photograph of Audur’s gravestone suggested that Gretar knew what had happened and might even have testified, and that he’d been gathering information about Holberg, possibly to blackmail him.
The two of them talked together into the night while the rain beat down on the windows and the autumn winds howled. She asked him why he was rubbing his chest, almost instinctively. Erlendur told her about the pains he’d been feeling. He blamed his old mattress but Eva Lind ordered him to see a doctor. He wasn’t keen on the idea.
“What do you mean, you’re not going to the doctor?” she said and Erlendur immediately regret-ted having admitted to his pain.
“It’s nothing,” he said.
“How many have you smoked today?”
“What is all this?”
“Hang on, you’ve got chest pains, you smoke like a chimney, never go anywhere except by car, you live on deep-fried junk food and refuse to get yourself looked at! And then you hurl abuse at me about my lifestyle until I end up crying like a little baby. Do you think that’s normal? Are you crazy?”
Eva Lind was standing up, glaring down, like the god of thunder, at her father who flinched from looking up at her and stared sheepishly at the floor.
“I’ll have it looked at,” he said at last.
“Have it looked at! You bet you’ll have it looked at!” Eva Lind shouted. “And you should have done long ago. Wimp.”
“First thing tomorrow morning,” he said, looking at his daughter.
“Just as well,” she said.
Erlendur was going to bed when the phone rang. It was Sigurdur Oli to tell him that the police had received a report of a break-in at the morgue on Baronsstigur.
“The morgue on Baronsstigur,” Sigurdur Oli repeated when he received no response from Erlendur.
“Oh Christ,” Erlendur groaned. “And?”
“I don’t know,” Sigurdur Oli said. “The report just came in. They called me and I said I’d contact you. They don’t know anything about the motive. Is there anything except dead bodies down there?”
“I’ll meet you there,” Erlendur said. “Get the pathologist down there too,” he added and put the phone down.
Eva Lind was asleep in the sitting room when he put on his coat and hat and looked at the clock. It was past midnight. He closed the door carefully behind him so as not to wake his daughter, then hurried down the stairs and into his car.
When he reached the morgue three police cars with flashing lights were parked outside. He recognised Sigurdur Oli’s car and just as Erlendur was entering the building he saw the pathologist turn the corner, his tyres screeching on the wet tarmac. The pathologist had a ferocious look on his face. Erlendur hurried down the long corridor lined with policemen and Sigurdur Oli came out of the operating theatre.
“Nothing seems to be missing,” Sigurdur Oli said when he saw Erlendur storming down the corridor.
“Tell me what happened,” Erlendur said and went into the operating theatre with him. The operating tables were empty, all the cupboards were closed and there was no evidence of a break-in there.
“There were footprints all over the floor in here but they’ve mostly dried up now,” Sigurdur Oli said. “The building’s connected to an alarm system that calls the security company’s headquarters and they contacted us about 15 minutes ago. It looks as though the burglar smashed a window at the back and put his hand through to undo the lock. Not very complicated. As soon as he entered the building the alarm went off. He wouldn’t have had much time to do anything.”
“Definitely enough time,” Erlendur said. The pathologist had joined them and was visibly disturbed.
“Who the hell breaks into a morgue?” he said.
“Where are Holberg and Audur?” Erlendur asked.
The pathologist looked at Erlendur.
“Is this anything to do with Holberg’s murder?” he asked.
“It could be,” Erlendur said. “Quick, quick, quick.”
“They keep the bodies in this side room here,” the pathologist said and showed them to a door which he opened.
“Are these doors always unlocked?” Sigurdur Oli asked.
“Who steals bodies?” the pathologist snapped, but he stopped in his tracks when he looked inside the room.
“What now?” Erlendur asked.
“The girl’s gone,” the pathologist said as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. He hurried through the storage room, opened another door inside it and switched on the light.
“What?” Erlendur asked.
“Her coffin’s gone too,” the pathologist said. He looked at Sigurdur Oli and Erlendur in turn. “We’d got a new coffin for her. Who does that sort of thing? Who would ever think of such a perversion?”