“It was all very mysterious. Someone was bound to start wondering in the end. I should probably have told you the truth at the time but…”
“The truth?”
“Yes,” Benedikt said. “May I ask why you’re enquiring about this man now? My son said you’d questioned him too and when I spoke to you on the phone you were rather cagey. Why the sudden interest? I thought you investigated the case and cleared it up back then. Actually, I was hoping you had.”
Erlendur told him about the skeleton found in Lake Kleifarvatn and that Leopold was one of several missing persons being investigated in connection with it.
“Did you know him personally?” Erlendur asked.
“Personally? No, I can hardly say that. And he didn’t sell much either, in the short time he worked for us. If I remember correctly he made a lot of trips outside the city. All my salesmen did regional work — we sold agricultural machinery and earth-moving equipment — but none travelled as much as Leopold and none was a worse salesman.”
“So he didn’t make you any money?” Erlendur said.
“I didn’t want to take him on in the first place,” Benedikt said.
“Really?”
“Yes, no, that’s not what I mean. They forced me to, really. I had to sack a damn good man to make room for him. It was never a big company.”
“Wait a minute, say that again. Who forced you to hire him?”
“They told me I mustn’t tell anyone so… I don’t know if I should be blabbing about it. I felt quite bad about all that plotting. I’m not one for doing things behind people’s backs.”
“This was decades ago,” Erlendur said. “It can hardly do any harm now.”
“No, I guess not. They threatened to move their franchise elsewhere. If I didn’t hire that bloke. It was like I’d got caught up in the Mafia.”
“Who forced you to take on Leopold?”
“The manufacturer in East Germany, as it was then. They had good tractors that were much cheaper than the American ones. And bulldozers and diggers. We sold a lot of them although they weren’t considered as classy as Massey Ferguson or Caterpillar.”
“Did they have a say in which staff you recruited?”
“That was what they threatened,” Benedikt said. “What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t do a thing. Of course I hired him.”
“Did they give you an explanation? Why you ought to recruit that specific person?”
“No. None. No explanation. I took him on but never got to know him. They said it was a temporary arrangement and, like I told you, he wasn’t in the city much, just spent his time rushing back and forth around the country.”
“A temporary arrangement?”
“They said he didn’t need to work for me for long. And they set conditions. He wasn’t to go on the payroll. He was to be paid as a contractor, under the table. That was pretty difficult. My accountant was continually querying that. But it wasn’t much money, nowhere near enough to live on, so he must have had another income as well.”
“What do you think their motive was?”
“I don’t have a clue. Then he disappeared and I never heard any more about Leopold, except from you lot in the police.”
“Didn’t you report what you’re now telling me at the time he went missing?”
“I haven’t told anyone. They threatened me. I had my staff to think of. My livelihood depended on that company. Even though it wasn’t big we managed to make a bit of money and then the hydropower projects started up. The Sigalda and Burfell stations. They needed our heavy plant machinery then. We made a fortune out of the hydropower projects. It was around the same time. The company was growing. I had other things to think about.”
“So you just tried to forget it?”
“Correct. I didn’t think it was any skin off my nose, either. I hired him because the manufacturer wanted me to, but he was nothing to do with me as such.”
“Do you have any idea what could have happened to him?”
“None at all. He was supposed to meet those people outside Mosfellsbaer but didn’t turn up, as far as we know. Maybe he just abandoned the idea or postponed it. That’s not inconceivable. Maybe he had some urgent business to attend to.”
“You don’t think that the farmer he was supposed to meet was lying?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“Who contacted you about hiring Leopold? Did he do it himself?”
“No, it wasn’t him. An official from their embassy on Aegisida came to see me. It was really a trade delegation, not a proper embassy, that they ran in those days. Later it all got so much bigger. Actually he met me in Leipzig.”
“Leipzig?”
“Yes, we used to go to annual trade fairs there. They arranged big exhibitions of industrial goods and machinery and a fairly large contingent of us who did business with the East Germans always went.”
“Who was this man who spoke to you?”
“He never introduced himself.”
“Do you recognise the name Lothar? Lothar Weiser. An East German.”
“Never heard the name. Lothar? Never heard of him.”
“Could you describe this embassy official?”
“It’s such a long time ago. He was quite plump. Perfectly nice bloke, I expect, apart from forcing me to hire that salesman.”
“Don’t you think you should have passed on this information to the police at the time? Don’t you think it could have helped?”
Benedikt hesitated. Then he shrugged.
“I tried to act as if it wasn’t any business of mine or my company. And I genuinely didn’t think it was any of my business. The man wasn’t one of my team. Really he wasn’t anything to do with the company. And they threatened me. What was I supposed to do?”
“Do you remember his girlfriend, Leopold’s girlfriend?”
“No,” Benedikt said after some thought. “No, I can’t say I do. Was she…?”
He stopped short, as if he had no idea of what to say about a woman who had lost the man she loved and never received any answers about his fate.
“Yes,” Erlendur said. “She was heartbroken. And still is.”
Miroslav, the former Czech embassy official, lived in the south of France. He was an elderly man but had a good memory. He spoke French, but also good English, and was prepared to talk to Sigurdur Oli over the telephone. Quinn from the US embassy in Reykjavik, who had put them on to the Czech, acted as a go-between. In the past, Miroslav had been found guilty of spying against his own country and had spent several years in prison. He was not considered a prolific or important spy, having spent most of his diplomatic career in Iceland. Nor did he describe himself as a spy. He said he had succumbed to temptation when he was offered money to inform American diplomats about any unusual developments at his embassy or those of the other Iron Curtain countries. He never had anything to say. Nothing ever happened in Iceland.
It was the middle of summer. The skeleton in Kleifarvatn had fallen completely off the radar in the summer holidays. The media had long since stopped mentioning it. Erlendur’s request for a warrant to search for the Falcon man on the brothers” farmland had not yet been answered because the staff were on holiday.
Sigurdur Oli had taken a fortnight in Spain with Bergthora and returned suntanned and content. Elinborg had travelled around Iceland with Teddi and spent two weeks at her sister’s summer chalet in the north. There was still considerable interest in her cookery book and a glossy magazine had quoted her in its People in the News column as saying that she already had “another one in the oven’.
And one day at the end of July Elinborg whispered to Erlendur that Sigurdur Oli and Bergthora had finally succeeded.
“Why are you whispering?” Erlendur asked.
“At last,” Elinborg sighed with delight. “Bergthora just told me. It’s still a secret.”
“What is?” Erlendur said.
“Bergthora’s pregnant!” Elinborg said. “It’s been so difficult for them. They had to go through IVF and now it’s worked at last.”