Frozen Assets (27 page)

‘Why do you say that?' Bára asked.

‘What else could they say? He didn't say anything at all that says anything. No facts, no information, just business as usual. I reckon it's a smokescreen to keep the lid on things while they salvage what they can from the wreck,' he said with satisfaction.

Gunna nodded and looked up at Spearpoint's windows high above. ‘It doesn't sound right, does it? Is denying everything flatly like that normal practice, Jonni?'

‘Yeah. It's the normal bullshit. This has to be a face-saving exercise while they try to keep the stock exchange happy. Spearpoint is privately owned, but I'll bet you a shag to a bag of shit that ESC's share value is going to plummet.'

‘Er. No thanks, Jonni. Maybe later, all right?' she said as he launched himself into his car and beat the unwilling engine into life. ‘Jæja, Bára. Maybe we should have brought Snorri along as well. He would have enjoyed all that. Come on, let's see if we can track down Sigurjóna.'

Ósk Líndal was more imposing than Snorri's description of her had even hinted. She stood two metres tall in flat shoes, looking down at Gunna and Bára. Her arms were folded underneath a bosom that jutted alarmingly into free space. Robustly built herself, Gunna felt pleasantly petite standing opposite her and Bára's slight frame was little more than a wisp alongside the two of them.

‘Sigurjóna is not available,' Ósk announced sternly. ‘I thought your officers had already been given all the available information they asked for yesterday.'

‘They were,' Gunna replied equally sternly. ‘But we have some more questions for Sigurjóna.'

‘I'm here in her place while she's out of the office. You can ask me anything relevant to the company.'

‘What exactly is your role here?' Gunna asked.

‘I am the operations manager. I handle the day-to-day running of the company. If you have questions, I can do my best to help,' she barked, looking anything but helpful.

‘Where is your boss right now?'

‘She's not here.'

‘I wasn't asking where she isn't.'

‘I'm not at liberty to divulge her whereabouts.'

‘You would be if I come back with a warrant.'

‘In that case, our lawyers will be waiting for you.'

‘If that's the way you want to play it, that's fine with me. Now, I want to speak to some of your staff.'

‘Who?'

‘To begin with, I want to talk to that boy with the red face who was outside just now.'

‘We don't have a meeting room available right now.'

‘In that case he can come down to Hverfisgata and we can talk there, and you can send the rest of them down at thirty-minute intervals.'

Gunna lifted herself to her maximum height, bringing the top of her head level with Ósk's nose.

‘It's past five o'clock. People will be going home shortly,' she protested.

‘Then you'll just have to tell them that they can't.'

‘All right. You can use the canteen if you must. I'll ask the receptionist to clear it for you and make sure nobody disturbs you.'

‘Is that Dísa?'

‘Dísa? No, she left. Ill health, depression.'

Jón Oddur had not recovered from his ordeal outside. The office lights weren't doing him any favours, she noticed. The man's skin looked blotchy and there were bags under his eyes.

‘Tell me about the party,' Gunna prompted.

‘What about it?'

‘Who was there. What went on.'

He groaned and slouched back in his chair. ‘All right. It was the PR Practitioners' Awards night. Sigurjóna was slated for an award, so we needed a presence.'

‘So this is a PR company, right?' Bára asked. ‘How come Spearpoint is involved in managing a construction site?'

‘It basically evolved into a project management operation. Sigurjóna had been doing PR work for a long time and when she got involved with InterAlu, she was asked to lay on fixers and interpreters. It all snowballed from there and the company has been growing really fast over the last year and a half.'

‘All work with InterAlu?'

‘Yeah, and ESC, and more foreign companies are coming to us all the time now.'

‘ESC and Spearpoint aren't the same thing?'

‘The offices of both are here. But Spearpoint is privately owned and ESC is a limited company.'

‘Owned by?' Bára asked.

‘Sigurjóna, her husband, a few other people, and InterAlu.'

‘And if InterAlu pull out, Spearpoint loses its biggest customer?' Bára asked and Jón Oddur nodded again.

‘And ESC becomes worthless. Worse than worthless, actually,' he said, squirming in his seat.

‘Look,' he groaned finally. ‘You didn't hear this from me, but you'll hear it soon enough anyway. On Friday Glitnir Bank will inform the Central Bank that it's unable to service its debts. It's not ESC's bank, but that one isn't in any better position. It's just a case of when.'

Startled, Gunna wondered what to say, but settled for glaring into Jón Oddur's face.

‘They probably won't announce it until after the weekend, but just wait and see. Everyone knows something big's about to happen after the currency's been on the slide for months. It's only a few of us know what's really happening.'

‘And this affects ESC?'

‘Of course it does!' Jón Oddur yelped. ‘It affects every business in the country! But ESC is due to be financed for the big phase of the Hvalvík Lagoon project by the bank, and some of us know that the bank doesn't have anything left to lend.'

Gunna drew a deep breath. ‘Well, young man. I hope you're wrong.'

‘So do I. But this isn't just happening in Iceland. This is all over the world. I tell you, Iceland is looking at unemployment and inflation, big time,' he added gloomily.

‘In that case, I'm sure that the police force will be able to fill a few vacancies,' Gunna said tartly, shocked at Jón Oddur's prediction and forcing herself to keep her mind on the job. ‘Now, the awards night.'

Jón Oddur deflated and slumped in the chair. ‘OK. There were half a dozen of us from here went to the ceremony. We booked rooms at the hotel and there was a party afterwards in Sigurjóna's suite.'

‘Who attended?'

‘Er, me, Sigurjóna. Ósk was there but she left early. Sigurjóna's sister was there as well and a few other guests,' he gabbled as Bára scribbled down names in her folder.

‘And the one you haven't mentioned?' Gunna said gently.

Jón Oddur was suddenly on the defensive. ‘Who's that?'

‘This guy.'

Gunna placed the printout of the pages from
Hot Chat
on the table. Jón Oddur looked up and then down again in surprise at seeing the photo of himself.

‘Oh, him. Yeah, he was there as well. Sigurjóna invited him. This is . . . where did you get it from?'

‘You didn't mention him. Why?' Gunna demanded, ignoring Jón Oddur's question.

‘I don't know. Just forgot. We don't normally have anything to do with him anyway.'

‘Tell me about this man. Do you know where he lives?' Gunna probed.

‘No. We don't know anything about him, really. I know he's one of the InterAlu people but he reports direct to the boss.'

‘Hverfisgata? Above Sindra Foto?'

‘Oh. That place. Look, I pay the guy every month and he keeps the flat free for whoever we need to put in there. I suppose Sigurjóna must have told him to stay there,' he said quickly.

‘I don't believe you. I think you knew very well that he was staying there. What happened at this ceremony? Where did he go afterwards?'

‘Why? What's he wanted for?'

‘Can't discuss it. All I can say is that it's a major investigation.'

‘I'm not sure where he went. Erna was all over him and I think they disappeared about the same time. They were both there at the awards but I don't remember seeing either of them at the party in the suite upstairs.'

‘What time did the party begin?'

Jón Oddur hung his head and twisted his fingers in circles. ‘I don't know. I was quite wrecked, just like everyone else there. Two, maybe. Something like that. Look, haven't I told you enough yet?'

‘Not until you've told us everything,' Gunna said sharply.

Jón Oddur rested the back of his head in his hands as he looked up at the ceiling. ‘All right. The awards were OK, just what everyone expected. Sigurjóna got her award, made a speech, blah, blah, got her glass thing and that was that. More awards, lots of speeches. So, by midnight everyone's pretty fucked up. Sigurjóna dropped her glass award and she was furious, accused me and then Ósk of breaking it. Anyway, it calmed down and there was some crappy seventies band on that only the old people wanted to dance to. Then we all went up to the suite and we had a little party there, about ten people, something like that. It's a bit hazy,' he admitted with a nervous smile.

‘All people from Spearpoint?'

‘Yeah. No, well, mostly I think. There were some women there I didn't recognize. Foreign. And there were quite a few people who came and went.'

‘Then what?'

‘Hell, I don't know. I woke up in my room at about six in the morning next to Sigurjóna. I still had my tux on. She'd lost her dress somewhere, though. I don't remember anything between the party and waking up. That's it. Then you banging on the door's the next thing I knew.'

Gunna tapped the picture on the table in front of her. ‘When was the last time you saw him?'

Jón Oddur's brow furrowed as he fought to remember. ‘It's all really hazy, y'know. I reckon at the end of the dance in the ballroom. The last I saw of him was at the table, I suppose. I don't think he drinks. But Erna can really put it away and she'd draped herself all over the poor guy.'

‘Are you saying that they might have left together?'

‘Could have. Don't know.'

‘All right, Jón Oddur. That'll do. Now, where's Sigurjóna today?'

Jón Oddur shrugged. ‘She's not here today, which is fine with all of us. We get a lot more work done when she's out of the office.' ‘So she's where?' ‘No idea. At home, maybe? Ósk always knows where she is.'

‘Where's Sigurjóna?' Gunna growled.

Ósk began to rise to her feet but stopped halfway at the sight of the expression on Gunna's face. ‘She's not here today.'

‘Phone number? Address?'

‘I'm not at liberty to divulge that,' she repeated angrily. Gunna could see the blood rising across her neck and into her face.

‘You will be if I come back with a warrant.'

‘If you do, our legal team will be waiting for you.'

‘Look, I won't come back with a search warrant, it'll be a bloody arrest warrant.'

‘For what, may I ask?'

‘You may well ask, and it'll be for possession of and intent to supply a class A drug, and I'll alert every officer in the country to arrest her on the spot and haul your boss to the nearest police station until I get there. While you're at it, I want her sister Erna's address and phone numbers as well.'

Ósk scribbled phone numbers and addresses on a slip of paper and passed it across.

‘You didn't get that from me,' she snarled, her face flushed and this time rising to her full imposing height.

‘We'll see. I'm warning you not to let her know that we're on the way. If she's not at home, I'll be back and you'll be charged with obstructing a police investigation. Let's go,' Gunna snapped, striding to the door with Bára, fumbling to answer her phone, at her heels.

‘That was fantastic,' Bára said in admiration once the door had slammed shut behind them.

‘Bloody woman,' Gunna rumbled as she ignored the lift and took the stairs three at a time. ‘I'm going to drop you at the Gullfoss and I want you to go through the staff who were on duty on Friday night. Find out who was there, and especially when Hårde left, and if he left with Erna. Find out where they went. They must have got a taxi if Erna was as pissed as Jón Oddur reckons.'

‘Right,' Bára puffed, wondering how someone built on generous lines could have so much energy.

‘Seven thirty tomorrow. Let me know then what you've found out.'

32

Tuesday, 30 September

Birna Ólafsdóttir lay back as far as she could and closed her eyes, but she kept the seat fully upright out of consideration for the people in the row behind. The rest of the party were scattered around the aircraft, the price of having changed their arrangements at short notice. She was relieved to be seated between strangers, away from colleagues and their need to discuss work.

She was not unhappy to have the trip to Berlin cut short, although she carefully made no outward show of it. A civil servant is just that, she felt, a servant with a role to play during working hours. What her personal opinions were did not come into the equation and she also took a quiet pride in maintaining a distinct separation between her career and her personal life.

The ministerial party had not been due to return to Reykjavík until Friday, with a morning flight after the obligatory cocktail party scheduled for Thursday evening and the formal dinner that followed. This was something that she would have been excused, leaving the Minister to consume rather too many liqueurs and smoke the cigars she knew his wife did not allow him at home. Birna had not scheduled anything for her Thursday evening in Berlin beyond a room service meal and an hour or two in front of the television after a long bath.

But a walk along Kufürstendamm yesterday morning and coffee, as if by chance, with some old friends while the Minister was still clearing his head of the previous evening's brandy had been enough of a pleasure to make the trip as a whole enjoyable.

***

A police car was already in the drive of Sigurjóna and Bjarni Jón's discreet mansion in Seltjarnarnes when Gunna parked behind it. Gunna scowled to herself, wondering what was happening as she scrunched up the gravel path in the first frost of the autumn to ring the bell.

A young policewoman answered the door. Gunna recognized her and racked her memory for the girl's name.

‘Edda, isn't it?' she hazarded.

‘Yeah, I'm Edda Sif. And you're from Hvalvík, aren't you? Gunnhildur? What brings you here?'

Gunna stepped back and motioned for Edda Sif to step outside as well.

‘What's going on? This is Sigurjóna Huldudóttir's place, isn't it?' she asked when they were out of earshot of the mansion's gaping hallway.

‘That's right. She's inside with my partner. We had a report of a missing person and were sent here to get a statement straight away. It helps when your husband's in the government,' she added.

‘Who's the missing person?'

‘Her sister, Erna Dan. You know, the hairdresser?'

‘OK, give me the gist of it.'

‘The call was an hour ago. It seems her sister hasn't been seen since Friday night.'

‘But it's only Tuesday now. We're not talking about a child here.'

‘Yeah, I know, and it's not as if the sister doesn't have a history of vanishing for a few days now and again. I checked our system and she's on that as well.'

‘What for?'

‘Drunk and disorderly, mostly. A few fights, just handbag waving, really. Always booze-related.'

‘Married? Kids?'

‘Two kids, separated. One child's father lives in Grafarvogur, the other's is in the US. Both kids with their fathers at the moment, due back to be with their mother in two weeks.'

‘And Sigurjóna?' Gunna asked. ‘What's her theory? Does she have a basis for believing her sister to be missing?'

‘So it seems. Says she went off with some foreign guy called Hardy and hasn't been seen since, and now she's not answering her mobile.'

‘Checked anywhere else?'

‘No answer at her home either.'

‘Ah. In that case I'd better have a word with the lady.'

‘Do you have an angle on this?' Edda Sif asked curiously.

‘Bloody right. It's Hårde I'm after.'

Sigurjóna's tearful presence occupied the whole of the expensively furnished room. She sat on a leather sofa overshadowed by a huge abstract painting in blocks of primary colours, sniffing as a young policeman probed with gentle questions.

Gunna marched in and looked Sigurjóna directly in the face. She stared back with hostility in her eyes.

‘You? What are you doing here?' she asked as anger and some colour began to seep back into her face, carefully made up in spite of her tearful demeanour. A tiny rivulet of mascara had begun to flow southwards from the corner of one eye.

‘Olli, isn't it?' Gunna asked the young policeman, perched with an open notebook on a corner of a deep armchair. The young man nodded.

‘All right. Leave me with this lady for ten minutes, would you? There must be a kitchen here somewhere, and I'm sure Sigurjóna won't mind if you put some coffee on.'

At a loss at Gunna's unexpected appearance, Sigurjóna nodded mutely.

Gunna perched on the edge of the deep chair that Olli had vacated to search for the kitchen.

‘Where the hell is Hårde?' she demanded.

‘I don't know,' Sigurjóna wailed and dabbed at her eye with a tissue.

‘All right. Tell me what's happened. Quickly, please.'

‘I don't know. Erna was with us all at the awards party —'

‘Hårde as well?'

Sigurjóna nodded.

‘How come he was there at a party for PR people?'

‘I invited him,' Sigurjóna admitted and hesitated.

‘Go on.'

‘He was dancing with Erna and they disappeared about the same time. Quite early. I think they may have gone home together.'

‘To Erna's home?'

‘I expect so.'

‘Have you been there? Called her?'

‘I've tried to call, but just get her voicemail and she doesn't call back.'

Gunna watched Sigurjóna carefully. As far as she could make out, the woman's concern for her sister was genuine. ‘Where does she live?'

‘Skólagata twelve.'

‘Where's that?'

‘Kópavogur. Up the hill from Smárinn.'

‘Olli!' Gunna called and the young man came in from the kitchen with the aroma of coffee behind him.

‘Yes?'

‘Get on the radio. I want a squad car at Skólagata twelve in Kópavogur in five minutes flat. Tell them to check the place out quietly. Don't knock, don't be too obvious, don't approach any men who might be on the property. I'll be there in a minute, all right?'

Olli ducked back and they could hear him talking in the other room as his set buzzed.

‘Sigurjóna, I have every reason to believe that you have been rather economical with the truth so far. I believe that this man you think your sister has disappeared with is an extremely dangerous character. I believe he's responsible for at least two murders here in Iceland and probably more elsewhere. Now, where's he been living?'

‘It's a guesthouse in Mjósundsvegur. Can't remember the number. Right at the end near the old church.'

‘Do you have any phone numbers for this guy?'

Sigurjóna picked a mobile phone up from the black glass coffee table in front of her where Olli had just placed a mug of black coffee for Gunna.

‘They're on their way,' he reported quietly while Sigurjóna scrolled through her phone's stored numbers.

Gunna nodded at him without her eyes leaving Sigurjóna.

‘Here it is,' she said quietly, holding out the phone.

‘Write the number down, Olli. Get on to the phone company and find out every bit of information you possibly can, and whether it's switched on, and if possible where it is. Bully them if you have to. This is on the National Commissioner's authority if they quibble,' she instructed as Olli retreated.

‘Sigurjóna, now. Your sister. Tell me about her. Has she done anything like this before?'

‘Plenty of times. She's hopeless with guys. She finds one she likes and she's like a little puppy and can't keep her hands off him. Then after a week or two there's a row and she hits the bottle. It's happened time and again, and she always ends up here crying on my shoulder. I've always been able to reach her and she tells me everything. But this time I can't get hold of her at all. It's just not like her.'

‘When did you last speak to Hårde?'

‘Saturday.'

‘What?'

‘Right after you left the Gullfoss. I told him you were looking for him.'

‘You told him? Bloody hell,' Gunna exploded and quickly contained her anger. ‘What else did you tell this psycho?'

‘Not much.'

‘So, what then?'

‘That you're in charge of the investigation,' Sigurjóna said.

In disbelief, Gunna sat back and thought in silence, ignoring the buzzing of the phone in her top pocket. She stood up suddenly, decision made, pulling the phone from her pocket to see who had called.

‘Edda! Olli! Here, now.'

The two young officers tumbled into the room from the kitchen.

‘Any luck?' Gunna asked Olli.

‘Not yet. They're on to it and are calling me back. They want to verify my status as well.'

‘You can do that at the station. This lady is going to Hverfisgata with you, right now.'

Sigurjóna half rose to her feet and began to protest. ‘Why? What is this for? I want my lawyer here right now, this instant—' she crowed before Gunna cut her off.

‘You are going to Hverfisgata to be questioned properly about your role in assisting a wanted felon in evading custody, to begin with. Then there's your role in the deaths of Egill Grímsson and Einar Eyjólfur Einarsson, and I'm sure there're a few things to be found out there.'

‘I knew nothing about that,' Sigurjóna snarled.

‘And then we can move on to the fact that you've knowingly hindered an investigation. From there we can go on to possession of a proscribed substance with intent to supply. How's that?'

‘You fucking evil fat lesbian bitch,' Sigurjóna hissed. ‘Arresting me, you'll fucking suffer for this. You know who my husband is.'

‘Yeah. A soon-to-be ex-Minister. You're not being arrested. You're being taken into custody for your own protection. You've five minutes to put some clothes on.'

Edda and Olli took unsure steps forward.

‘Take her to Hverfisgata and let her sober up a bit before we start talking to her. Her lawyer can be called, but don't hurry any more than you have to. If she kicks up, cuffs. All right? Get a move on then,' she ordered, as Edda stepped forward and gripped Sigurjóna's upper arm to bring her to her feet.

Erna decided that she had time for an hour at the gym and a visit to the salon before her flight. As she stopped at the junction to turn left, a police car came fast along the main road, slowed sharply and turned into her street. She wondered what it was doing in such a quiet neighbourhood and decided they would probably be looking for one of the neighbours' teenage kids. She'd find out when she got back, she thought, grinned to herself and patted the shoulder bag on the seat beside her.

Erna had packed no more than a change of underwear, shorts, a couple of T-shirts and a minimum of toiletries, as well as her laptop and an old address book. Hand baggage only this trip. If she needed anything else, hell, there were shops in Morocco as well, she decided, not that she was planning on wearing too many clothes. Her stomach fluttered in anticipation of seven days at the secluded villa in M'diq, a sleepy resort an hour's drive east of Tangier still known only to a discerning few.

She had booked the flights and the hire care online, and called to let Hardy know to meet her in the departure lounge. She listened to his deep chuckle with a pleasure that bordered on the sensual, recalling listening to that rumbling laugh through his chest.

Hårde's rented car rolled out through the compound gate and along the road back to Hvalvík. At the crossroads outside the town, he turned away from the main road and took the old unmade track that he knew would be noisy and uncomfortable, but would take him unobtrusively to Keflavík and the airport where Erna would be expecting to meet him in a few hours.

Outside the town and on a curve that was out of sight of prying eyes, Hårde pulled off the road. There were several hours to wait since his work at the compound had been simpler than expected. He had decided not to tell the site manager about InterAlu's decision — they'd find out soon enough.

HÃ¥rde closed his eyes and kicked off his shoes. He drew his feet up into the closest approximation he could manage of a lotus position and concentrated on each breath, forcing himself to be calm.

Bjarni Jón Bjarnason fretted in club class. With the aircraft in flight, he was cut off from phone, email and the exchange rate, and hated it.

He hailed a passing stewardess, asked for a brandy and admired the woman's muscular bottom as she bustled away to fetch it.

The meeting with Horst had left him numb. He could see little more than the whole edifice crashing about his ears. Spearpoint would be left high and dry by the bank with crippling commitments and no customer to buy the power it was due to start producing at the end of the year — if they were even to get that far.

Maybe he could pull strings and get the National Power Authority to absorb the project — in return for a quiet payoff of some kind that would settle outstanding debts. Nationalizing it could be the answer. ESC could become public property, with Spearpoint's holding quietly transferred somehow, which would look good at any rate, he thought idly, and caught himself as his thoughts drifted back to Sigurjóna.

Maybe it was time for a change, a quiet parting of the ways and a smooth divorce? But he knew that, with Sigurjóna, nothing was likely to be quiet or smooth. A husband in government was a major asset to her that she would be unlikely to let go easily.

He sympathized with her. Spearpoint had been doing extraordinarily well on the basis of her undoubted personal skills and their combined access to the right people. They both felt they had worked hard to get this far. But Sigurjóna was certainly hard work. A sweet little thing who would do as she was asked, give him a brood of children and not spit venom every time he lit a cigar would also be nice.