“Didn’t you study in Leipzig in the 1950s?” Elinborg said.
The man regarded her blankly. It was almost as if he did not understand the question, and certainly not the reason it was being asked. Elinborg repeated it.
“What’s going on?” the man said. “Who are you? Why are you asking me about Leipzig?”
“You first went there in 1952, didn’t you?” Elinborg said.
“That’s right,” he said in surprise. “So what?”
Elinborg explained to him that the investigation into the skeleton found in Kleifarvatn in the spring had led to Icelandic students in East Germany. This was merely one of many questions raised in connection with the case, she told him, without mentioning the Russian spying device.
“I… what… I mean…” Hannes stuttered. “What does that have to do with those of us who were in Germany?”
“Leipzig, to be absolutely precise,” Erlendur said. “We’re enquiring in particular about a man called Lothar. Does that name ring a bell? A German. Lothar Weiser.”
Hannes stared at them in astonishment, as if he had just seen a ghost. He looked at Erlendur, then back at Elinborg.
“I can’t help you,” he said.
“It shouldn’t take very long,” Erlendur said.
“Sorry,” Hannes said. “I’ve forgotten all that. It was so long ago.”
“If you could please…” Elinborg said, but Hannes interrupted her.
“Please leave,” he said. “I don’t think I have anything to say to you. I can’t help you. I haven’t talked about Leipzig for a long time and I’m not going to start now. I’ve forgotten and I won’t stand for being interrogated. You’ll gain nothing from talking to me.”
He returned to the starter cord of his lawnmower and tinkered with the motor. Erlendur and Elinborg exchanged glances.
“What makes you think that?” Erlendur said. “You don’t even know what we want from you.”
“No, and I don’t want to know. Leave me alone.”
“This isn’t an interrogation,” Elinborg said. “But if you want we can bring you in for questioning. If you’d prefer that.”
“Are you threatening me?” Hannes said, looking up from the lawnmower.
“What’s wrong with answering a couple of questions?” Erlendur said.
“I don’t have to if I don’t want to and I don’t intend to. Goodbye.”
Elinborg was on the verge of saying something which, judging from her face, would have been quite a scolding, but before she had the chance Erlendur took her by the arm and dragged her off towards the car.
“If he reckons he can get away with that kind of bullshit—” Elinborg began when they were sitting in the car, but Erlendur interrupted.
“I’ll try to smooth things over and if that doesn’t work it’s up to him,” he said. “Then we’ll have him brought in.”
He got out of the car and went back to Hannes. Elinborg watched him walking off. Hannes had finally started the lawnmower and was cutting the grass. He ignored Erlendur, who stepped in front of him and switched off the machine.
“It took me two hours to start that,” Hannes shouted. “What’s all this supposed to mean?”
“We’ve got to do this,” Erlendur said calmly, “even if it’s no fun for either of us. Sorry. We can do it now and be quick about it, or we can send a patrol car round for you. And maybe you won’t say anything then, so we’ll send for you straight away the next day and the day after that, until you’re one of our regulars.”
“I don’t let people push me around!”
“Nor do I,” Erlendur said.
They stood facing each other with the lawnmower between them. Neither was going to yield. Elinborg sat watching the standoff from the car, shook her head and thought to herself: Men!
“Fine,” Erlendur said. “See you in Reykjavik.”
He turned away and walked back towards the car. Frowning, Hannes watched him.
“Does it go in your reports?” he called out after Erlendur. “If I talk to you.”
“Are you afraid of reports?” Erlendur said, turning round.
“I don’t want to be quoted. I don’t want any files about me or about what I say. I don’t want any spying.”
“That’s all right,” Erlendur said. “Neither do I.”
“I haven’t thought about this for decades,” Hannes said. “I’ve tried to forget about it.”
“Forget about what?” Erlendur asked.
“Those were strange times,” Hannes said. “I haven’t heard Lothar’s name for ages. What’s he got to do with the skeleton in Kleifarvatn?”
For a good while Erlendur just stood looking at him, until Hannes cleared his throat and said they should maybe go inside. Erlendur nodded and waved Elinborg over.
“My wife died four years ago,” Hannes said as he opened the door. He told them that his children sometimes dropped by with his grandchildren on a Sunday drive in the countryside, but that in other respects he was left to himself and preferred it that way. They asked about his circumstances and how long he had lived in Selfoss; he said he had moved there about twenty years before. He had been an engineer with a large firm engaged on hydropower projects, but had lost interest in the subject, moved from Reykjavik and settled in Selfoss, where he liked living.
When he brought the coffee into the living room Erlendur asked him about Leipzig. Hannes tried to explain what it was like to be a student there in the mid-1950s and before he knew it he was telling them about the shortages, voluntary work, clearing of ruins, the Day of the Republic parades, Ulbricht, compulsory attendance at lectures on socialism, the Icelandic students” views on socialism, anti-party activities, the Freie Deutsche Jugend, Soviet power, the planned economy, collectives and the interactive surveillance which ensured that no one could get away with causing trouble and weeded out all criticism. He told them about the friendships that were formed among the Icelandic students, the ideals they discussed, and about socialism as a genuine alternative to capitalism.
“I don’t think it’s dead,” Hannes said, as if reaching some kind of conclusion. “I think it’s very much alive, but in a different way from what we may have imagined. It’s socialism that makes it bearable for us to live under capitalism.”
“You’re still a socialist?” Erlendur said.
“I always have been,” Hannes said. “Socialism bears no relation to the blatant inhumanity that Stalin turned it into or the ridiculous dictatorships that developed across Eastern Europe.”
“But didn’t everyone join in singing the praises of that deception?” Erlendur said.
“I don’t know,” Hannes said. “I didn’t after I saw how socialism was put into practice in East Germany. Actually I was deported for not being submissive enough. For not wanting to go the whole hog in the spy network they ran and so poetically described as interactive. They thought it was acceptable for children to spy on their parents and report them if they deviated from the party line. That has nothing to do with socialism. It’s the fear of losing power. Which of course they did in the end.”
“What do you mean, go the whole hog?” Erlendur asked.
“They wanted me to spy on my companions, the Icelanders. I refused. Other things I saw and heard there made me rebel. I didn’t go to the compulsory lectures. I criticised the system. Not openly, of course, because you never criticised anything out loud, just discussed the flaws in the system with small groups of people you trusted. There were dissident cells in the city, young people who met secretly. I got to know them. Is it Lothar you found in Kleifarvatn?”
“No,” Erlendur said. “Or rather, we don’t know.”
“Who were “they”?” Elinborg asked. “You said “they” asked you to spy on your companions.”
“Lothar Weiser, for one.”
“Why him?” Elinborg asked. “Do you know?”
“He was nominally a student but didn’t seem serious about it and went about his own business as he pleased. He spoke fluent Icelandic and we believed he was there explicitly on the orders of the party or student organisation, which was the same thing. Clearly, one of his functions was to keep an eye on the students and try to enlist their cooperation.”