Summerchill (3 page)

‘Look,’ Logi muttered to Danni, ‘they’re working faster already. That’s the difference a few shekels in the pocket makes. See?’

‘Yeah, all right,’ Danni conceded. ‘Just keep them at it, will you?’

‘You do your bit and we’ll do ours. Anyway, we’re back on the other job soon, so we want this done by then. I’ve asked you before, but what the hell is this place?’

‘Why d’you need to know?’

‘I don’t, but it makes the job a lot easier if I know what it’s supposed to be. Ceilings are no problem, but where do you want walls and doors? If I know why, then I can figure it out for myself.’

‘It’s a car showroom, I think,’ Danni said.

‘You don’t know?’ Logi asked, and then decided to back off as the occasional tic that he recognized as a precursor to an outburst appeared below Danni’s left eye.

‘I’m a sub-contractor the same as you. Anyway, the guy who’s paying will be along later, and he’ll tell me what he wants and where.’

‘Fair enough. We’ll be here until late, so if you pick up a couple of big pizzas and a litre of Coke around five, we’ll keep at it as long as there’s daylight.’

Cheerful Tadeusz was the one who habitually left a trail of mess behind him and taciturn Marek was the tidy one. He swept up before they left, stuffing the empty pizza boxes into a plastic dustbin and leaving it by the back door as Logi locked up.

Marek and Tadeusz left in Marek’s beaten-up Volkswagen and Logi was just putting his toolbox into his pickup when a black van pulled up on the forecourt.

A tall figure with hollow cheeks and a fair ponytail swung the keys on his little finger as he strolled over. A bluetooth headset nestled in one ear. Logi was instantly suspicious without knowing exactly why; there was simply something about him that yelled trouble. The man with the headset peered in the half-light at the framework for the new suspended ceiling that was now mostly in place and moved his head, half a nod and half a shake, as if he wasn’t prepared to give approval either way.

‘You looking for someone, pal?’ Logi asked. ‘Because we’re finished for the day and I’m locking up.’

‘Just taking a look,’ the man said softly. He kicked an offcut with his heel, sending it away into a dark corner. Logi pursed his lips in irritation. They had cleaned up once.

‘And you are who? I don’t know about you but I have better things to do.’

‘Let’s say I’m the proprietor. And you?’

‘I’m the chippy.’

‘Does the chippy have a name?’

‘The chippy has a name, but he doesn’t hand it out to anyone who just shows up and starts poking around. So come on, sunshine, out you go. If you want a look, come back in the morning.’

‘Where’s the office?’ The headset guy asked suddenly, looking through Logi.

‘What’s that to you?’

‘The place needs an office. In that corner,’ he decided, waving a hand at the far wall.

‘Well, if you’re involved with this, then you can have it out with the contracts guy. I’m just following instructions and, like I said, I’m done for the day.’

The headset guy stared at him for a long moment and Logi had the feeling he was memorizing him, filing him away for future reference. He picked up the rubbish bag and a length of framing timber from the floor underneath it.

‘Come on, pal. I’ve had enough for today. I don’t know who you are, but if you’ve got a problem, come back in the morning. The complaints department’s open from seven until three minutes past. So now do me a favour and piss off so I can go and get my dinner.’

The headset guy left, a narrow smile on his lips, sauntering across the forecourt. He opened the door of the black van, turned to look at Logi and watched him until he caught his eye. The man pointed a finger at Logi, drew it sharply back and up, and blew smoke from the end of an imaginary gun barrel before driving away with a squeal of tyres.

Axel Rútur was tired of looking for the bloody man. He was never at home and Axel wanted to finish the job and get paid; it was one of several that were outstanding, and Alli, who had arranged it with the woman for the usual percentage, was getting on his case. He swerved across a couple of lanes and gave an uncaring finger to someone behind him who sounded a horn.

Hell, the woman was a looker in spite of her tongue. Maybe he’d be tempted to offer her a deal on a discount in return for a consideration, or even the opportunity to settle up some other way? Axel Rútur grinned to himself and preened, looking in the Outlander’s rear-view mirror. He told himself he’d rather have the money, but he’d give the woman the option anyway. You never knew, she might jump at it. These hard-up single women with a bunch of kids could spring all kinds of surprises, and this one had clearly taken care to keep herself in shape.

He wondered which gym she went to. His expert eye was sure those tight buns and trim figure owed something to dedicated exercise, and he deplored people who didn’t work out. Axel Rútur was proud of his physique and kept himself in the best shape a man could with a constant routine of weights, exercise and sparring.

He’d give the guy another try this evening and maybe he’d be home at last. Too bad the woman didn’t know where her ex-husband was working these days, otherwise he could have just found him and followed him home instead of having to make this detour out of town a couple of times a day.

Not to worry, he told himself. He’d strike it lucky soon enough.

Logi saw his phone flash, and when he saw Sandra’s name appear on the screen, he decided to ignore her. It had been a long day and the conversation with the headset guy had unsettled him. That parting gesture convinced him that he wasn’t a tax snooper, although who knows? They probably come in all shapes and sizes, he decided.

The screen of his phone went dark again, and moments later buzzed and lit up a second time. This time there was no name on the screen, just a number he didn’t recognize; he assumed it would be Sandra calling from someone else’s phone to nag him yet again about unpaid maintenance.

He switched off the pickup’s engine and sat in the darkness for a few minutes. He felt tired as he lugged his toolboxes indoors and dumped them by the door. The house was an old one, a wooden-framed, black-painted place that had probably been thrown together years ago in a hurry as a summer house in an out-of-town area that was now about to be engulfed by the expanding city. Logi had the place on loan for an undetermined length of time, as long as he covered the bills. It belonged to a friend who had emigrated for shorter hours and more stable work in Denmark, leaving his house for sale. Logi made sure that on the rare occasions anyone wanted to view the place, they left aware of the lamentable state of the roof.

He put a ready meal in the microwave, popped the ringpull of a beer and sat at the kitchen table, waiting for his food to be ready. The old-fashioned table had a drawer in the side, and he slid it open and took out the brown leather case he had found under the floorboards up in Borgarfjördur. The thought of it had returned to him several times during the last few days and he had researched how to handle the weapon on the internet.

While the microwave hummed, he spun the chamber, clicked the catch and opened the revolver to look at the circle of empty chambers. He snapped it closed again, lifted the gun and extended his arm, pointing it at the microwave and pulling gently on the trigger, feeling the mechanism and watching the hammer fall back. He closed one eye and looked along the sight at the glass window, and as it stopped humming and chimed, he pulled the trigger and the gun clicked.

He put it on the table and admired it as he forked up his ready meal straight from its foil tray. Logi cracked another beer and pushed the remnants of his food aside. He lifted the gun again and felt the weight and heft of it in his hand, where it nestled as if it belonged there. He broke it open again, and this time he slotted bullets into the chambers. It felt heavier now, more balanced. He liked the look of it, and had all but decided that he was going to keep it now. It might fetch a few hundred thousand on the black market, but he liked the feel of the thing and the sense of security it gave him.

A banging on the door took him by surprise. Logi didn’t make a point of encouraging visitors. He wondered whether or not to just ignore it when the hammering was repeated, louder this time and determined. He slid open the drawer and dropped the loaded revolver into it before he stood up.

The door burst in on him the moment he had sprung the lock, and he found himself pushed back into the hall by the sheer bulk of the unfeasibly broad-shouldered man bearing down on him.

‘Logi?’ The man asked. ‘Logi Gunnarsson?’

‘Depends who’s asking, doesn’t it?’

‘Make your fucking mind up,’ the man said, shaking him like a puppy and grinning at the same time. ‘It’s time to pay a few debts, Logi.’

‘No money,’ Logi choked, the front of his shirt bunched in the big man’s fists as he felt himself slammed against a wall.

The man’s rush into the narrow hallway had taken him completely by surprise, and while his temper would normally have flared up instantly, Logi found himself too preoccupied with the essential business of breathing to fight back. The big man’s grip began to slacken slightly and, with his feet swinging clear of the ground, Logi hauled down a lungful of air, his hands clamped on the big man’s fists, which were around his neck. Strong though he was, he wasn’t able to move the man’s vast hands an inch.

‘What the fuck are you after?’ he finally gasped.

‘Time to pay your debts, little man,’ the monster growled. ‘You know as well as I do who you owe, so you’d better have it ready tomorrow. Same time.’

‘Fuck you!’ Logi spat and kicked out. If he hadn’t taken off his heavy work boots, he could have done some real damage, but his toe collided with the inside of the big man’s thigh, and Logi saw his black eyes widen in surprise and anger. He felt himself lifted a little higher, pulled clear of the wall and then slammed hard back into it, knocking the breath out of him. As he gasped and struggled to breathe, he was slammed back a second time before being dropped in a heap on the floor.

The big man stood over him, breathing hard. It was a long time since anyone had even thought to stand up to him and he was affronted that this idiot should try. He extended a foot and gave Logi a dig in the ribs.

‘Had enough, have you?’

‘Who sent you?’ Logi spluttered, gulping down lungfuls of air and gasping.

‘That’s none of your business.’

He coughed as the big man stood back to admire his handiwork and check out the contents of the ugly little house. Logi rolled to one side and found himself wedged against his toolboxes, the two drill cases and the old-fashioned open toolbox. Still gasping for breath, he glared at the big man, who was peering into the kitchen, and reached a hand into the toolbox.

‘Tell me who sent you?’ he repeated and coughed, rolling back. ‘If you want a load of notes off me, then at least tell me where it’s going.’

Logi was hunched in a ball on the ground when the big man came back and leaned over him.

‘I don’t need to tell you, shit-for-brains,’ he said carefully, as if he were weighing his words. His voice dropped to a purr. ‘But she’s a pretty little thing, a proper pretty little thing.’

Logi fought to control his fury as it welled up inside him, but the thought of Sandra sending an enforcer to get money out of him was too much. He rolled over, lashing out with the claw hammer he had lifted from the box. The big man’s scream of pain was surprisingly high-pitched for such a macho character, Logi thought afterwards. The shock of the delicate bones across the top of his foot being shattered was a sharper pain than the big man could have imagined, and coloured lights flashed in front of his eyes as Logi jerked the hammer from the neat hole its head had punched through the expensive training shoe and deep into the foot just behind the toes.

He was on his feet by the time the big man had gathered his wits, alternately whimpering and growling, stepping gingerly on his ruined foot as his hands curled into fists.

‘You’ll fucking pay for that,’ he swore, wiping tears from his eyes. ‘You’ll be paying for that for the rest of your life,’ he added, hobbling towards Logi, with one hand against the wall to steady himself and the other reaching forward to pin him against the front door. The loathing on the big man’s face was rapidly replaced by astonishment a moment before he keeled over backwards, landing with a crash that made the floorboards shiver, with Logi’s claw hammer buried in the middle of his forehead.

Logi sat back on the floor and surveyed the wreck of the enforcer filling the narrow hallway. The man lay flat on his back, arms spread wide, and Logi wondered what to do next. Calling the police didn’t even enter his head as he ran through the list of people who might help him out once he’d decided that moving the muscle-bound body alone was going to be too much for him.

Tadeusz answered on the first ring. ‘Hey, Logi. All right?’

‘No, not all right. I really need some help. Can you get to my place right away?’

There was silence for a moment before Tadeusz replied cautiously. ‘Sure. Problem?’

‘Yeah. Bring Marek as well. Wear gloves.’

Logi finished the call abruptly. He got to his feet, stepped over the big man to get to the kitchen and turned on the cold tap, letting water gush into a glass. He drank it down quickly and splashed more water on his face.

He found a pair of work gloves in his toolbox, knelt by the body and went through its pockets. A bunch of keys in the trouser pocket included a fat car key, and Logi realized there must be a vehicle outside. He went to the cracked living-room window and peered through it, reminding himself that he needed to fix it before winter as he clicked the button on the fob and saw the lights of a silver Outlander flash in response.

Cool, he thought. Easier to dispose of a car with a body in it than a body on its own, he decided.

The search through the body’s jacket pockets yielded a set of polished brass knuckles, a wad of notes rolled into a tube, a small bag of white powder and a wallet.