They fell into silence. Sigurdur Oli nibbled at a biscuit. Erlendur still craved a cigarette. He could not see an ashtray anywhere and it was probably a forlorn hope that he would be able to light up.
“Actually, there’s one interesting point in all this,” Frau Muller said, “considering that it involves Leipzig. The Leipzigers are very proud of starting, in effect, the uprising that brought down Honecker and the Wall. There were massive protests in Leipzig against the communist government. The centre of the uprising was Nikolaikirche near the city centre. People gathered there to protest and to pray, and one night the protesters left the church and broke into the Stasi headquarters, which were nearby. In Leipzig at least, this is regarded as the start of the developments that brought down the Berlin Wall.”
“Indeed,” Erlendur said.
“Strange if a German spy went missing in Iceland,” Sigurdur Oli said. “It’s somehow…”
“Ridiculous?” Frau Muller smiled. “In one way it was convenient for his killer — if he was killed — that Weiser was a secret agent. You can see that from the reaction of the East German trade delegation here; they didn’t have a proper embassy then. They did nothing. It’s a typical response for covering up a diplomatic scandal. Nobody says a thing. It’s as if Weiser had never existed. We have no evidence of any investigation of his disappearance.”
She looked at them in turn.
“He wasn’t reported missing to the police here,” Erlendur said. “We’ve checked that.”
“Doesn’t that suggest it was an internal matter?” Sigurdur Oli asked. “That one of his colleagues killed him?”
“It could,” Frau Muller said. “We still know so little about Weiser and his fate.”
“Don’t you suppose the murderer’s dead by now?” Sigurdur Oli said. “It was such a long time ago. If Lothar Weiser was murdered, that is.”
“Do you think he’s the man in the lake?” Frau Muller asked.
“We don’t have any idea,” Sigurdur Oli said. They had not told the embassy any details regarding the discovery. He looked at Erlendur, who nodded.
“The skeleton we found,” Sigurdur Oli said, “was tied to a Russian listening device dating from the 1960s.”
“I see,” Frau Muller said thoughtfully. “A Russian device? So what? What significance does that have?”
“There are a number of possibilities,” Sigurdur Oli said.
“Could the device have come from the East German embassy or delegation or whatever you call it?” Erlendur asked.
“Of course,” Frau Muller said. “The Warsaw Pact countries cooperated very closely, including in the field of espionage.”
“When Germany was unified,” Erlendur said, “and the embassies here in Reykjavik were merged, did you find any devices like that in the hands of the East Germans?”
“We didn’t merge,” Frau Muller said. “The East German one was dissolved without our knowledge. But I’ll check about the devices.”
“What do you read into finding a Russian listening device with the skeleton?” Sigurdur Oli asked.
“I can’t say,” Frau Muller answered. “It’s not my job to speculate.”
“No, right,” Sigurdur Oli said. “But all we have is speculation, so…”
Erlendur put his hand in his jacket pocket and clutched his cigarette packet. He did not dare take it out of his pocket.
“What did you do wrong?” he asked.
“What do you mean, what did I do wrong?” Frau Muller said.
“Why were you sent to this dreadful country? To the arsehole of the world?”
Frau Muller gave a smile which Erlendur thought was rather ambiguous.
“Do you think that’s an appropriate question?” she asked. “I am the German ambassador to Iceland, remember.”
Erlendur shrugged.
“Sorry,” Erlendur said, “but you described a diplomatic job here as being some kind of punishment. But it’s none of my business, of course.”
An awkward silence descended upon the office until Sigurdur Oli made a move, cleared his throat and thanked her for her assistance. Frau Muller said coldly that she would be in contact if anything came to light about Lothar Weiser that might prove useful. They could tell from the tone of her voice that she would not be running to the nearest telephone.
When they were outside the embassy they discussed whether there might have been Icelandic students in Leipzig who became acquainted with Lothar Weiser. Sigurdur Oli said he would look into it.
“Weren’t you a bit rude to her?” he asked.
“That arsehole-of-the-world stuff gets on my nerves,” Erlendur said and lit a long-awaited cigarette.
24
When Erlendur got home from the office that evening, Sindri Snaer was waiting for him in his flat. He was sleeping on the sofa but when Erlendur came in he woke up.
“Where have you been hiding?” Erlendur asked.
“Around,” Sindri Snaer said, sitting up.
“Have you had anything to eat?”
“No, it’s okay.”
Erlendur took out some rye bread, lamb pate and butter, and made coffee. Sindri said he was not hungry but Erlendur noticed how he wolfed down the pate and bread. He put some cheese on the table and that vanished too.
“Do you know anything about Eva Lind?” Erlendur asked over a cup of coffee when Sindri Snaer’s hunger seemed to have been satisfied.
“Yes,” he said, “I spoke to her.”
“Is she all right?”
“Sort of,” Sindri said and produced a packet of cigarettes. Erlendur did likewise. Sindri lit his father’s cigarette with a cheap lighter. “I think it’s been a long time since Eva was all right,” he said.
They sat smoking and not speaking over their black coffee.
“Why is it so dark in here?” Sindri asked, looking into the living room where the thick curtains kept the evening sun at bay.
“It’s too bright outside,” Erlendur said. “In the evenings and at night,” he added, after a short pause. He did not go into the matter any further. He did not tell Sindri that he much preferred short days and pitch darkness to perpetual sunshine and the endless light it radiated. He did not know himself the reason for it. Did not know why he felt better in dark winters than during bright summers.
“Where did you dredge her up?” he asked. “Where did you find Eva?”
“She texted me. I phoned her. We’ve always kept in touch, even when I was away from the city. We’ve always got on well.”
He stopped talking and looked at his father.
“Eva’s a good soul,” he said.
“Yes,” Erlendur said.
“Seriously,” Sindri said. “If you’d known her when she was…”
“You don’t have to tell me anything about it,” Erlendur said, not realising how curt he sounded. “I know all about that.”
Sindri sat in silence, watching his father. Then he stubbed out his cigarette. Erlendur did the same. Sindri stood up.
“Thanks for the coffee,” he said.
“Are you leaving?” Erlendur said, standing up too and following Sindri out of the kitchen. “Where are you going?”
Sindri did not answer. He took his scruffy denim jacket from the chair and put it on. Erlendur watched him. He did not want Sindri to leave in a temper.
“I didn’t mean to…” he began. “It’s just that… Eva’s so… I know you’re good friends.”
“What do you think you know about Eva?” Sindri asked. “Why do you reckon you know anything about Eva?”