‘I’m ready,’ Jakob called out as he reappeared. He smoothed his brown tweed jacket and gave his tie an extra tug at the knot.
‘Glad to hear it,’ Mortensen said. He glanced at the gash on Jakob’s forehead. ‘That really needs stitching, though I’m guessing it’s a bit late now.’
Jakob gave a light shrug.
‘It’ll leave you with a lasting memory,’ Mortensen said, and he clapped his hands. ‘Are you good to go?’
Jakob nodded. ‘I’m ready, sir. Lange and I will take it from here. You go back to the station. I’ll just take a couple of painkillers, and we’ll be at the crime scene in a few minutes.’
Mortensen left, grumbling as he went about the amount of snow on the slope leading to Jakob’s house.
‘Sit down for a moment, will you?’ Jakob said, pointing to the dining room chair next to where Karlo was standing. ‘I just need to get some painkillers from the bathroom.’
Karlo nodded and sat down on the wicker seat, and then looked around the room. There were two tall wooden candleholders, a small blue porcelain cat and a rubber tree on the windowsill. The window was framed by curtains of some sort of velvety material, dark red with broad lilac stripes. Over the sofa was a big painting of a fjord on a late autumn day, and there were several wooden masks, tupilaks and rock samples on the furniture and the shelves. An old harpoon made of wood and iron was mounted on the wall over the sideboard by the dining table. Karlo strolled over to take another look at the puzzle.
‘I’ve put in some more pieces in your jigsaw,’ he said when Jakob returned.
‘Oh, that was here when I moved in,’ Jakob replied.
Karlo looked up with a smile. ‘It’s almost done now.’
Jakob smiled back. ‘Pretty much all the stuff was here when I moved in. A couple called the Hemplers used to live here. They were killed when that Catalina crashed into the sea during a landing in ’64.’ He looked around. ‘I haven’t changed it much. If they came back, I bet even they couldn’t tell the difference.’ He turned to the bookcase and picked up a delicate porous stone. ‘Except for all the geological specimens. I’m the rock collector.’
‘I think you’ve gathered one too many,’ Karlo said, nodding towards the rock that had been thrown through the window.
‘I don’t believe it was meant to hurt me,’ Jakob said, slipping an arm into the sleeve of his warm coat. ‘If it was, I’d be on the floor right now with my stomach cut open.’
‘You’re probably right about that,’ Karlo said, looking at the gash on Jakob’s forehead.
Jakob pointed to a half-open cardboard box by the door to the hall. ‘Did you bring that?’
‘That box?’
‘Yes.’
‘No, it was on your doorstep.’ Karlo shrugged. ‘I thought it was yours.’
Jakob walked over to it and pushed one of the flaps aside. ‘A film projector.’ He looked back at Karlo. ‘I’ve never seen it before in my life.’
‘It was just sitting there.’
Jakob frowned. ‘There’s no film. Only an empty reel.’
‘How odd.’
Jakob nodded. ‘I’ll keep hold of it. Maybe the owner will turn up.’
WHISPERING SEA
25
High above Block 17, the sun was halfway through its journey to the mountains on the far side of the cold fjords.
Matthew put down the notebook and rubbed the corners of his eyes with one hand, while the fingers of his other hand sank into the ground underneath him. The scent was alive, spruce-like and sharp.
A world of dwarf plants was hidden among the rocks. Grasses, crowberries, blueberries, thyme, dwarf willow, yellow lichen and small arctic flowers crawled densely in and out of every crevice, like a soft, prickly quilt covering the rock. Sometimes the growth was so deep and springy that his feet sank into it as he walked; in other places it was merely a thin membrane, adapted to survive the long, harsh winter.
His fingers closed around a tiny flower made up of even tinier flowers, the size of pinheads, each complete with pink petals and a yellow stigma. Somewhere in his notebook Jakob had described such a flower. Maybe not quite the same one, but it was close.
Matthew took out his mobile and pressed Malik’s number.
‘We need to rattle some cages,’ he said the moment Malik picked up. ‘Are you able to set up a meeting for me with Jørgen Emil Lyberth? Tell him that I’ve found Jakob Pedersen’s private diary from the winter of ’73. That should do it.’ He hung up.
A shadow broke the light around him. ‘You still here?’
Matthew turned his head towards the voice, which he recognised immediately. Tupaarnaq’s face and body were in deep shade with the sun behind her.
‘Have you found your killer?’
He shook his head.
‘You will.’
She stepped out of the shadows and became a living woman, her gaze so intense that he had to look away. She had scattering of light brown freckles—one on her nose looked like a heart. She held a laptop.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked tentatively.
‘To pick up my stuff from the police before they close for the day.’
He nodded and pressed his lips together, then said: ‘I’m heading the same way. Can I walk with you?’
‘That’s up to you,’ she said, and stepped past him.
Matthew grabbed his jumper and Jakob’s notebook as he rose to follow her. Her movements were calm. Not quick and angry, like earlier. ‘I need to speak to Lyberth,’ he said.
‘Why?’
‘I think he’s one of the big villains in all of this,’ Matthew said, holding up the notebook.
‘They won’t like that at the top. One of their national father figures with his dick buried in little girls.’ She shook her head. ‘Ah, well. He wouldn’t be the first politician here who can’t keep his dick in his pants.’
Matthew felt a tingling under his skin. ‘I’ve let him know that I have this notebook.’
Tupaarnaq glanced at Matthew. ‘Then you’d better start looking over your shoulder.’ She let out a deep sigh. ‘Bunch of bastards. All of them.’
Her footsteps were angry again, but she wasn’t walking any faster. Her heels just hit the tarmac harder.
They reached the new, fashionable apartment blocks not far from the police station.
‘Why did you buy a gun when you came back?’ he asked, not daring to look at her.
‘So I could go seal hunting.’
‘Just like that?’
‘Yes, just like that. Surely it’s better than hunting men?’
There was no challenge, no aggression in her voice. It was a statement. Nothing more. Gutting a seal was certainly better than gutting a man.
They followed the road around the corner, where Tuapannguit and Kuussuaq streets meet. Mount Ukkusissat loomed far off on the horizon between the houses in midtown, the Nuuk Centre and Nuussuaq. Back in Jakob’s day, Mount Ukkusissat had been known by its Danish name, Store Malene.
‘I’d like to hike up there one day,’ Matthew said, pointing towards the mountain. There were a few patches of snow on the peak. From this distance they looked like frozen puddles, but up close they were probably several hundred metres long.
‘Then do.’
‘I don’t know the way. And I’ve been told that you should always hike in pairs… for safety.’
‘Okay… and when you eat something, do you also have someone watching you in case you choke?’
‘Eh?’
She shook her head. ‘It’ll take you a couple of hours, max, to reach the top from the city centre, so if you want to go there, then do it. It’s as simple as that.’