‘I didn’t think he’d do it.’
‘Was it —?’
‘Look, I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.’
‘Was that why Eyvindur came round to see you? Because of the letter? Had you arranged to meet? We know Eyvindur was boasting about coming into some money. Were you going to pay him off? Talk to your father? Make it all go away?’
‘Eyvindur was in the wrong place at the wrong time,’ said Felix. ‘Typical of him. He wasn’t the one they meant to shoot. The British made a mistake. The man they sent round to my place couldn’t tell us apart. That’s how professional they were. I expected better of them.’
‘We’ve heard that excuse as well,’ said Flóvent. ‘Anything to deflect the blame. Just as you shirked all the blame over what happened to Rikki.’
‘Excuse? What are you talking about?’ asked Felix.
‘We’ve heard your tales about spying. That your time as a salesman was just a cover. That you sent the Germans regular reports about the military build-up here. Reports on shipping. The number of troops. The locations of military facilities around the country. The developments in Hvalfjördur. We heard that your uncle, Hans Lunden, put you in touch with the German secret service. That you’re working for them.’
‘Did you hear that from Brynhildur as well?’ asked Felix. ‘So she believes me, then?’
Flóvent shook his head. ‘I think she’s trying to help you,’ he said. ‘She told us you’d found out that you were no more than a pawn. An errand boy. But she also knows just how manipulative you are. She doesn’t know what to think any more. And if Brynhildur doesn’t believe everything you say, why on earth should we?’
At that moment they heard a sound from the hall, as if someone was trying, with great difficulty, to shift a heavy object across the floor. Felix’s face remained impassive, but Flóvent went out to investigate. He got a shock when, through the darkness, he made out a man in a thick dressing gown dragging himself painfully towards the study on a pair of crutches. It was Rudolf Lunden.
51
Rudolf warded Flóvent off when he tried to lend a helping hand. He was astounded to see the policeman in his house and demanded to know what he was doing there. Flóvent said he was talking to his son. Rudolf heaved himself forward on his crutches.
‘What did you say?’
‘Your son, Felix. He’s in your study. He came here to speak to you.’
Rudolf stared at him blankly as if he couldn’t take in what he was saying. Then he waved Flóvent away again and struggled into his study, subjecting his son to a look of such fury that his eyes seemed to shoot sparks. Hobbling to the wheelchair, he collapsed into it, threw down his crutches and turned the chair to face Felix who stood motionless behind his father’s desk.
‘What are you doing here?’ Rudolf asked, his voice thick with rage. ‘What the devil do you want?’
‘I came to see you,’ said Felix steadily, as if he were accustomed to dealing with his father’s temper and no longer let it upset him. ‘I wanted to tell you—’
‘No, I have nothing to say to you,’ interrupted Rudolf. ‘Nothing! Just go with him,’ he ordered, jerking his head towards Flóvent. ‘Go with him and face your charges and try to act like a man for once.’
‘I wanted to tell you that I didn’t kill Eyvindur,’ said Felix. ‘It wasn’t me. I wanted you to know. To hear it from me.’
‘There is no point in listening to a word you say. There has never been any point. Get out of here. Both of you — get out of here this instant!’
Rudolf made to propel his chair back out into the hall, but Felix came round the desk and blocked his way. Flóvent hung back, taking no part in their quarrel. His eye fell on a telephone, and he began to edge his way towards it with the idea of ringing for assistance. Felix was focused on his father. He took hold of the arms of the wheelchair and shook it so hard he almost lifted it off the floor.
‘Listen to me!’ he yelled. ‘For once in your life, listen to me. Then it’s over.’
Rudolf’s jaw dropped. He gaped at his son, stunned.
‘I haven’t killed anyone,’ said Felix. ‘It’s important for me that you know that. They’ll try to pin it on me, and they’ll tell all kinds of lies about me, but I wasn’t the one who shot Eyvindur. I want you to know that.’
Rudolf was glowering up at Felix now, the gleam of fury back in his eyes. ‘Get out!’ he shouted.
Felix was still gripping the arms of the chair, towering over his father.
‘The man who shot Eyvindur was sent by the intelligence department at the Leper Hospital. He was sent by the occupation force. I’m convinced of that. He was meant to kill me. That’s obvious. He’s after me because I went too far. I know it’s my fault — I made a mistake and brought down an assassin on my head.’
Felix had succeeded in rendering his father speechless.
‘I’ve been sending the Germans information ever since I came home from Denmark. I had to do it. When Hans suggested it... I didn’t think twice. And Uncle Hans’s recommendation was all it took. They trusted me implicitly. They provided me with a secret code and a small radio transmitter that they’d hidden here before the war. I sent them pretty low-level stuff about the occupying army’s movements. They advised me to become a salesman, that way I could travel round the country, gathering information, without rousing suspicion. One evening, after I sent them a report, there was a message waiting for me at home. An unmarked message that someone had pushed through my door. I was told to go to a certain spot at a pre-arranged time and there would be a message waiting for me there. I did as I was told and found an envelope. It contained a typewritten sheet about the construction of a port for large ships in Hvalfjördur and the laying of a submarine barrier across the fjord. All very simple. All very clear. I passed on the information.
‘I was supposed to return to this same spot regularly and check if there were any new messages from my contact. Sometimes there was an envelope, sometimes nothing. I grew curious. I started watching the place in the hope of seeing who dropped off the messages. Of course, I didn’t tell anyone. It was a private initiative. And one day I saw him and shadowed him back to where he worked. He went to the Leper Hospital, which could only mean one thing: British intelligence.’
‘So he was working for the British?’ asked Flóvent.
‘I assumed either the Germans had planted him there or he’d decided to go over to the Nazis.’ Felix had relaxed his hold on the wheelchair. ‘I must have rattled someone when I followed my contact, because next thing I know I stumble across Eyvindur lying in a pool of blood. I knew I’d lost my key, but I didn’t realise Eyvindur had it until I saw him lying there. I’ve no idea what he wanted from me. It was probably something to do with those experiments of yours. Maybe he just thought I was being malicious. He called me a Nazi whenever I bumped into him in the West Fjords. I insulted him — told him about the experiments. Perhaps he was looking for incriminating evidence or was planning to rob me. I have no idea. All I know is that the moment he opened the door with my key he was a dead man. I fled. I knew Eyvindur didn’t matter to them. I was the one they were after. I’d gone too far. That bullet was intended for me.’
Felix loomed over his father, who was still glaring up at him without saying a word. Flóvent had picked up the telephone receiver and dialled the number of the police station on Pósthússtræti and was now waiting for someone to answer.
‘It was typical of Eyvindur to blunder into a situation like that,’ Felix continued. ‘I don’t know... I heard his girlfriend had ditched him for a British soldier. Perhaps Eyvindur thought he could win her back if he got his hands on some money. Perhaps that’s why he sent you the letter and broke into my place.’