The Perfect Landscape (16 page)

“If he bought it in the first place,” says Steinn. “But it’s very likely, going by this.”

“And what shall we do now?” asks Hanna.

“We just remove the top surface,” says Steinn straight-out. He gets up to fetch
The Birches
, places it on his workbench, and pulls the angle lamp over, lighting up the painting completely. He rubs his good eye.

Hanna gives him a worried look.

“It’s all right,” says Steinn. “It’s just because the patch on the other eye makes this one tired.”

“Are you going to do it now?” Hanna asks, aghast. Steinn bursts out laughing.

“No, of course not. I don’t even know if it’s possible. It depends on the chemical makeup. I’ll have to have a closer look.”

They both look at the painting. Hanna does not see beauty in the brushstrokes, nor does she admire the interplay of colors on the canvas. She sees an embarrassing artifact, the fruit of greed and deceit that demeans art and Gudrun’s work. But what if a genuine work of art lies hidden there, under the birch copse?

“But what about Gudrun’s painting though?” asks Hanna without expecting an answer. “Should we give preference to a painting that could potentially be by a male artist over a genuine painting by a female artist? Is a work of art by Sigfus more important than one by Gudrun? She was just as talented an artist as Sigfus. How can we choose between them? We can’t be a hundred percent sure that this isn’t a painting by Gudrun.”

Hanna isn’t sure what the right thing to do is. In her mind she still hasn’t excluded the possibility that this is Gudrun’s
painting. She feels she needs to protect women’s interests, as women often do, consciously or unconsciously, in all fields. In the art world women are not on an equal footing with men any more than anywhere else, but Hanna doesn’t want to go into that with Steinn, nor does it interest him. Steinn is clearly no chauvinist, no more than many other men. But he wouldn’t see it as a gender issue. In his eyes Gudrun and Sigfus are equally important as painters, and that is enough for him.

Steinn doesn’t respond immediately; instead he runs his finger lightly down the trunk of a birch in the copse. “Yes, you’re right. The other option is to do nothing. Keep quiet about it. Exhibit
The Birches
as an original by Gudrun.” Steinn hesitates. He looks at the gnarled birch in the painting. He carries on, his voice not entirely free of sarcasm. “That would suit everyone nicely. We would avoid the hassle. It would also be better for the gallery. Better for Elisabet Valsdottir. Better for the auction house. For the person who forged this. Maybe better for everyone apart from Gudrun Johannsdottir, and she is dead.”

Hanna notices a small vertical wrinkle appear in the middle of Steinn’s forehead as it always does when he is dissatisfied with something.

“It would be best for everyone,” he goes on. “Silence is golden. Why do you think that the forgery case just fizzled out and all these paintings are back in circulation? Precisely for this reason—people don’t want to know about it. It’s much safer just to turn a blind eye to a Kjarval painting bought at auction for three million. Why have it investigated just to discover it is worthless? None of your friends can tell the difference anyway. Everyone is in on it. Even the auction house. Do you think
that we’ll ever find out who bought the painting from the man’s estate and sold it on when Elisabet bought it?”

Steinn is angry.

“Or even when
Composition in Blue
was bought last year. I’ll tell you about that one. It was one of the most expensive works of art by an Icelandic artist that had ever been purchased. It was in all the papers. But do you think I get to see the ownership history?”

Steinn turns his gaze from the painting to Hanna, his eye flaming with fury; she has never seen him so enraged before.

“No, it wasn’t released. As you know. No one knows who found the painting housed by a family from Denmark who put it up for auction, where the bank bought it.” He shakes his head. “I’d always intended to look more closely into this family in Denmark who were supposed to have found the work. I still haven’t got around to it. My eyes were acting up at the time.”

“Why isn’t this information released?” asks Hanna. “I don’t understand it. It’s not as if it’s personal or medical details—I could understand that. But of course it’s obvious what’s behind it.”

Steinn nods in agreement. “Maybe someone needed to dispose of black-market money or simply wants to keep their private business private.”

Hanna gazes at the painting, looking for something to reveal the deceit, something that shows beyond doubt that the painting cannot have been by Gudrun, but obviously there is nothing to give it away.

“We need to discuss this with Kristin,” says Steinn calmly, “before we do anything.”

Hanna gives a sigh of relief. So she doesn’t need to take the plunge herself and potentially destroy a work of art by one of the nation’s most distinguished female artists.

“I’m also going to send a paint sample up to the university for analysis,” says Steinn. “Then we can determine the age of the colors better. Best to take a sample from
Composition in Blue
while I’m at it. That could have been forged from the outset. Painted on an old canvas, secured on an old frame, and then the colors made to look authentic. Forgers actually seek out paintings in an artist’s career that are known about but haven’t yet been found. Then the painting suddenly ‘appears’ and matches precisely what was known about it. But we’d better discuss this with Kristin as quickly as possible. Preferably right now. This is a serious issue, and it shouldn’t wait.”

Hanna detects a newfound confidence in his words, a focus and decisiveness that she likes.

“But can we be absolutely sure?” The danger seems great to Hanna. “A work of art by Gudrun, or not by her, cost eight million. And then to say, let’s wash it off. Even though it may be covering a painting by Sigfus. We need to be certain.”

“We will be,” replies Steinn bluntly, and he turns off the computer. “We’ll get this settled when the analysis comes through.”

Hanna stands up; she needs to move.

“Forgeries have certainly been on the increase in the last few years. I was reading up about it while you were off work.” She doesn’t say
sick
; that word doesn’t suit Steinn. “Not long ago even Sotheby’s withdrew a painting by Shishkin the day before it was due to be put up for auction.”

“Yes, that’s right,” says Steinn. “You’re talking serious money there.”

“Why do we need to run this by Kristin? Wouldn’t it be better to have something specific before we talk to her?”

“But we’ve already got something,” replies Steinn. “The paint sample would really only be a confirmation of what we know—
The Birches
is a forgery.”

Hanna feels a stab in her heart hearing him say it straight-out like that. They both know that Kristin will not be pleased to hear that the painting her friend Elisabet gave her is a worthless forgery. The only upside could be that under the forgery lies a work that is probably by Sigfus Gunnarsson. Especially if the painting by Sigfus the gallery already owns also turns out to be a forgery.

“Elisabet would have done better putting the money into research,” says Hanna sarcastically. “That way we might be in a better position now.”

Steinn switches off the lamp and wraps
The Birches
back up. “We’ll see if we can get a hold of Kristin before she goes. Best to get the deed over with,” he says, smiling encouragingly at Hanna.

It’s late in the day and the gallery has already closed. When Hanna and Steinn get up to Kristin’s office, it has begun to grow dark outside and the snow-covered sides of Mount Esja are a reddish pink; the sun is beginning to dip in the sky. Hanna looks out over the familiar lines of the mountain as she has so often since she arrived, and yet again feels happy to be home, despite Frederico’s affair and missing her family and despite this unexpected turn her job has taken. Mount Esja is also her mountain; she doesn’t feel fond of it in the way she does of the
mountains from her childhood, but Esja is still part of her life. She would love the mountains to be part of Heba’s life as well, but she knows she will have to accept that they never will be. Heba doesn’t hold mountains in her soul, she thinks almost reverently. She holds the city, canals, buildings, and the hustle and bustle of urban life.

Steinn has sat down, and Kristin is looking inquiringly at Hanna.

“I’m sorry,” says Hanna. “The view from here is always so beautiful.”

Steinn looks at Hanna silently, and she begins telling Kristin the whole story. Kristin leans back in her chair, giving Hanna her full attention; she doesn’t interrupt but waits patiently. When Hanna has finished Kristin looks her straight in the eye, and Hanna sees the glitter of steel.

“This is pure speculation,” says Kristin. She looks at them in turn. “It’s out of the question. We’re talking about a work of art worth millions. A national treasure. You both know how important Gudrun Johannsdottir is to us. We can’t prove this. What is to be gained by destroying this painting? And if it does prove to be a forgery, we’ve everything to lose. You both know the effect this will have on her other works of art we own. Are we to investigate them all?”

She shakes her head. Hanna realizes she will not be budged.

“The Icelandic fine arts market is only now finding its feet again after that forgery case sent it reeling. This would trigger more unease. And Elisabet wouldn’t want to bring charges—I know that for sure. She is quite an art connoisseur and she bought this piece herself. She wouldn’t want the press claiming that she’d bought a forgery.”

Hanna stares dumbfounded at Kristin.

“Hanna dear,” adds Kristin. “You must understand the position we’re in. It’s such a small world here, such a volatile one. We just can’t do this as things stand, not right now, you understand. We’ll keep the lid on it for a while, look into it more. I’m not saying no. I’m just suggesting not now. Let’s give it further consideration.”

Hanna is about to protest, but Kristin cuts in.

“I’ll give Elisabet a call and tell her that the investigation into her painting is taking longer than we anticipated. She’ll understand. Let’s shelve it for a while.”

Hanna perceives that Kristin is clearly as hard as iron. Despite her words about shelving it and careful consideration, Hanna has zero expectation that she will agree to removing the top layer from the painting later on. But there is evidently no point in trying to discuss the issue. They make ready to leave.

“We won’t discuss this any further,” says Steinn politely.

Kristin glances at her watch, and they say good-bye. They are in the doorway when Kristin calls, “Steinn? Have you got a moment?”

Steinn turns back. Hanna pauses.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Hanna dear,” says Kristin, smiling warmly, like a totally different person, as if the discussion had not taken place. Hanna nods and walks down the corridor toward the stairs. Behind her she can hear Steinn’s voice as he goes back into Kristin’s office. He lowers his voice, and Hanna stops at the top stair straining to hear, but she cannot make anything out, just the sound of the door closing.

The teenagers came escorted by a social worker and are now standing in a huddle in the Annexe. Uneasy, Hanna waits for Agusta; she has more confidence in her ability to relate to them. Agusta is no more than a few years older than the oldest ones. Hanna is only interested in one member of the group, but she doesn’t show it and avoids looking at Kari any more than the others. She recognized him immediately; he is by far the smallest. Brown-haired, with hazel eyes, darting like a skittish animal. She knows nothing about him other than that he’s thirteen, the police caught him along with the other youngsters for illegal graffitiing, and the child social work team is actively involved in his case.

Hanna has seen what these kids are capable of, the vandalism they have done, for example, on the statue she and Steinn visited. She also managed to have a picture sent to her of the piece Kari did on the wall where he was caught recently. She cannot forget that wall; it’s as if a slow explosion was taking place in the picture, at once full of pain and passion. Hanna
hopes to be able to show Kari that you can give expression to such a powerful artistic urge in other ways, even though the destructive urge is as strong as the creative one. The photo of that wall showed her that there’s a powerful force within Kari and if he could learn to harness it he could do amazing things. Otherwise he will burn up in a flash, like a firework that leaves no trace other than smoke in the darkness.

Gudny proved to be more influential than Hanna had expected; it was only a few days after their lunchtime meeting in the restaurant that she got in touch with Hanna.

“I’ve sorted it for you,” she said. “The kids can come to you whenever you want. You just need to get in touch with Ingunn at Social Services and she will arrange for them to come over to you. Just name the day. You also need to talk to her about the bill, but keep it low, expenses only sort of thing.” Hanna agreed straightaway and thanked her, without having a clue what she was going to do with a group of teenagers for a whole Saturday. She has never worked with teenagers before, and she doesn’t know any Icelandic youngsters other than her relatives, whom she hardly ever sees. She’s only seen teenagers on the street from a distance, wandering neglected around the town, and she feels they must be cold the whole time.

Now here they are, five of them in total, and all looking like they’d rather be someplace else. Hanna suspects that this last-minute art workshop courtesy of the Reykjavik city authorities is a punishment rather than a reward. Three boys and two girls. Kari is like a mascot for this group, who are all older than him. The two girls are dressed in identical tight-legged jeans, whispering. Hanna guesses they are about fourteen or fifteen. The older boys have long hair with their pants hanging around
their knees. None of them looks her in the eye. Kari is looking around, and Hanna notices he has seen a painting by a student at the Art Academy. The painting drips down the wall and onto the floor, a thread of red paint connecting the space. She is convinced he wants to look at it more but is holding himself back, probably determined not to show any reaction or interest, no matter what.