‘I’m not sure I want to know,’ said Halli. ‘And personally I have no desire to see the woman’s face. What difference would it make, anyway? It wouldn’t be anyone I know.’ He shuddered. ‘At least I hope not.’
Lára chewed her lip. ‘Answer me, somebody – what are we going to do?’
Ægir opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind. He hadn’t the faintest idea; besides, Thráinn was in charge, so it was his problem. He didn’t envy the man; he was finding it hard enough to get a grip on himself let alone take responsibility for other people. Ever since he had realised what was in the bag, he had been obeying a stream of orders issued by his brain without any apparent intervention from his conscious mind: close the lid, fetch the captain, wake Loftur and Halli, and take them up to the bridge without disturbing his wife and daughters. Lára had, in fact, woken up, but the girls were still sleeping peacefully.
Thráinn spoke then with a firmness that brooked no disagreement. ‘We won’t do anything. Just close the freezer and hold to our course. If we try to deal with this ourselves, we’ll probably end up destroying vital evidence.’
‘Shouldn’t we call the police and ask them to come and remove the body? We could wait for them, or maybe sail to meet them.’ Lára hugged her cardigan more tightly around her in the chill from the freezer.
Thráinn snorted. ‘We’re not waiting for the police. Where do you think they’d come from? We’re in international waters, hundreds of miles from any police station or any country’s jurisdiction.’ This was true – Ægir had noticed from the course plotted on the chart in the pilot house that they had long since left Portuguese waters.
‘So what, then? Are you suggesting we do nothing at all? Aren’t there any laws in force at sea?’ Lára darted a glance at the freezer and shuddered. She had been unable to bring herself to take more than a brief peek inside; the only reason she had followed the men into the larder was to avoid being left alone in the galley.
‘Of course there are laws.’ But Thráinn didn’t elaborate, or explain how they were supposed to comply with them or organise an investigation. He must know, though; even Ægir had been given a brief overview of international maritime law on his sailing course. Perhaps Thráinn simply wanted to shut Lára up. Ægir decided not to intervene. He could always explain the situation to his wife once they were alone together. But in the event there was no need because Thráinn took pity on Lára and clarified: ‘We have no choice but to hold to our course. Close the lid. I’ll report the body and we’ll continue to Iceland as planned. When we get there the authorities will take over. This is an Icelandic ship and when in international waters you’re under the jurisdiction of the flag you sail under.’ He addressed his next comment to Ægir. ‘All the papers are definitely in order, aren’t they? You haven’t bungled the registration of the yacht like you did the satellite phone?’
Ægir met his eye and didn’t require a mirror to guess that his own expression must be idiotic. ‘Yes, I mean no. She’s Icelandic now.’ He sincerely hoped he was right. After all, he had never registered a ship before and it hadn’t helped that the documents were all in Portuguese or French. He could conceivably have made a mistake, though everything should be in order.
‘Just as well. Otherwise it’s possible we’ll be turned back.’
‘Where to?’ Lára looked at him in alarm. ‘Portugal?’
‘Yes, or Monaco where the yacht was last registered. That’s a risk if the change of ownership hasn’t gone through and she’s not registered as Icelandic.’
‘But…’ Loftur broke off as suddenly as he had interrupted.
‘But what?’ Lára sounded as if she feared even worse was to come. Though what could possibly be worse?
‘No, I was just thinking.’ Loftur looked embarrassed as all eyes turned to him but realised he had better continue despite his reluctance, since Lára looked quite capable of extracting his words by violence. ‘That body must already have been in the freezer when we embarked. Mustn’t it?’
‘Obviously.’ Ægir was disappointed by the banality of the observation. Against his better judgement, he had been hoping for more, for the insight of a sailor with experience under his belt. ‘No one’s missing from our group.’ He added hastily: ‘And we didn’t bring a body on board with us.’ He remembered that Thráinn had seen them stashing food in the freezer and wanted to remove all suspicion that he and Lára might have put the bin-bag in there.
Loftur nodded. ‘In which case the body was on board before the ship was registered as Icelandic. Does that make a difference?’
Thráinn’s lips thinned. ‘There’s no way of knowing. It could have been brought aboard somewhere else entirely. Icelandic jurisdiction only covers crimes committed on Icelandic vessels in international waters, so if it happened in territorial waters, I’d be duty bound to report to that country. The rule applies to all countries with a coastline, so the nationality of the ship is of secondary importance in those circumstances.’ He reached out and closed the lid. ‘Look, there’s no point discussing it any further as we haven’t a clue how, when or where it happened. Or even if a crime’s been committed. There may be a perfectly natural explanation.’
‘A natural explanation?’ Lára sounded a little bolder now that there was no danger of inadvertently catching sight of the corpse. ‘What could possibly be natural about finding a body hidden in a bin-bag in the freezer of a yacht?’
‘Well, maybe not.’ Thráinn left the larder and beckoned to the others to follow. ‘But that doesn’t alter the fact that I’m in charge and I’m going to turn the matter over to the Icelandic authorities. I’ll report the incident, then leave it in their hands.’
Lára realised it wouldn’t be in their interest to object. Thráinn wanted to carry on, as they all did. In Portugal they would be taken in for questioning and maybe even banned from leaving the country until the investigation was over.
‘I’m going to try and make radio contact,’ Thráinn announced. ‘You two go below and get some kip,’ he said to Loftur and Halli, adding to Ægir: ‘I won’t be requiring your assistance again anytime soon.’ Ægir didn’t reply; it would be a long time before he offered to stand watch alone again. There was something very wrong with this yacht.
Once in bed he and Lára lay staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. They hadn’t discussed the body since coming below, just brushed their teeth and got ready for bed as if nothing had happened. They exchanged inconsequential comments in a way that made Ægir feel as if he was acting in a bad play.
‘I know who it is.’ Lára didn’t turn towards him.
‘Oh?’ Ægir lay very still. ‘Who?’
‘It’s Karítas. I recognised her scent just before the lid was shut.’
‘Somehow I doubt a corpse smells the same as a living person. Your mind’s playing tricks on you.’
‘It wasn’t the smell of decomposition, it was perfume. The bottle’s in a drawer in the dressing table. It was the same scent.’
‘Surely millions of women wear that perfume?’
‘No. It’s a very exclusive brand that I’ve never come across in any shop. That’s why I had a sniff. I was curious because I’d never heard of it.’
‘I expect that’s because they sell it in the kind of luxury stores abroad that we never go into. For all you know it may be popular with rich ladies. Perhaps the woman’s one of the hundreds who must have been guests on board over the years.’ Ægir closed his eyes. ‘Though the body can’t have been there for that long. If the previous owners had hidden it in the freezer, they’d surely have disposed of it at sea, which means it must have ended up there fairly recently.’ Ægir opened his eyes wide again. Whenever he closed them he couldn’t get the image of the blue-white hand out of his mind. ‘Or just before the yacht was confiscated.’ After a brief, pensive silence, he continued: ‘Unless they hid it there when the yacht was in port. The seal was broken, remember? Maybe someone smuggled the body on board – someone with keys, because there was no sign of a break-in. That doesn’t leave many suspects – apart from the couple who owned the yacht.’