The Silence of the Sea (12 page)

The most famous example she came across was the disappearance of the crew and passengers of the
Mary Celeste
. In 1872, a month after leaving New York bound for Genoa in Italy, the brigantine was found abandoned and adrift under full sail in the Atlantic. One of the lifeboats was missing but the ship was still seaworthy and contained six months’ supply of food and water. Neither the cargo nor the personal belongings of the eight-man crew and two passengers had been touched, but the ships’ papers were missing, with the exception of the captain’s log, though unfortunately this shed no light on what had happened. The story of the
Mary Celeste
was uncomfortably similar to that of the
Lady K
, not least because the captain’s wife and one-year-old daughter had been on board. It was as if the crew and family had vanished into thin air. No reason for this had ever been found and the mystery remained one of the most perplexing in seafaring history.

But the stories Thóra unearthed were not only historical; there were also more recent cases, including five in the last ten years. The most striking was the disappearance of three people from the yacht
Kaz II
off the coast of Australia in 2007: the boat had been in perfect condition when found and everything looked normal on board, apart from the absence of the crew. There was food on the table, a laptop was switched on and the engine was still running. Moreover, the life jackets and other safety equipment were all in place and there were no signs of violence or robbery. The only real difference from the situation on the
Lady K
was the discovery of a video camera on the
Kaz II
, containing films taken of the crew before they vanished. Of course, now that Thóra came to think of it, it was quite possible that a similar find had been made on the Icelandic yacht, since at least one of the passengers must surely have had a camera or camera phone. She would have to ask the police. Admittedly, the films from the
Kaz II
had not helped to solve the riddle but it might be a different story with the
Lady K
.

Thóra was less interested in the articles that dealt with the disappearance of entire ships’ crews than she was in the large number of articles and reports about individuals who had vanished without trace from cruise-liners. Apparently, this occurred on average about ten times a year, which was not really that often considering the enormous volume of cruise passengers, but it was striking nonetheless. The statistics were of secondary importance to Thóra, though, compared to the fact that the missing people’s relatives tended to hit a brick wall when it came to payment of their life cover. The insurance providers refused to pay out on the grounds that it was impossible to prove the insured party’s demise, and this argument seemed to satisfy the courts. This did not bode well for Ægir’s parents, though with any luck the fates of Ægir and his wife would be deemed sufficiently different to avoid the same outcome. Where one person might conceivably have absconded to start a new life abroad, it would seem far-fetched to claim a conspiracy involving seven people. In addition to which, it was unthinkable that anyone could have jumped ship and survived since the yacht had been a long way from land for most of the voyage, unlike cruise ships, which tended to call at a string of ports.

‘What time are you meeting the old couple about the life insurance case?’ Bragi came over to join Thóra by the coffee machine where she was helping herself to her second cup of the day.

‘Two. Why do you ask?’ She added a splash of milk.

‘Oh, I was wondering if you could take a look at some correspondence I’ve entered into in relation to a case that looks as if it’s heading to court. You might be able to see a way to soften up the litigants. I’ve run out of ideas and would welcome your insight.’ He pushed the button to release a stream of black liquid into his cup. ‘I’d have copied it for you but … well … and I’ll need to review it myself before lunch.’

‘I’ll take a quick peek now.’

Bragi nodded, pleased. ‘By the way, any idea when we can expect the photocopier back? The situation’s driving me spare. I almost went down to the stationery shop to buy carbon paper, then realised it probably wouldn’t work in the printer.’

‘Hasn’t it occurred to you to print out two copies?’ Thóra grinned and took a sip of coffee. ‘But I agree. The situation’s intolerable; I’ll check what’s happening. In the meantime, why don’t you get Bella to pop out to the copy shop for you? Preferably with one sheet at a time. The whole thing’s her fault, so it would be only what she deserved.’

She went back to her office to ring the workshop. As she picked up the receiver, she decided to call Karítas’s mother too on the off-chance that, in spite of Matthew’s dire predictions, the woman might prove amenable. It couldn’t hurt to try.

Bella slammed the door so hard Thóra thought the car would fall apart. It was still cold outside; on the news that morning they had forecast snow in the north, though spring was supposed to be just around the corner. For some unaccountable reason Thóra had been anticipating a good winter followed by an early spring, though this had not been based on any meteorological evidence or gift of prophecy. The bitter wind now blowing her hair in all directions reminded her yet again how wrong she had been. She could hardly see a thing but managed with difficulty to drag her hood over her head, which considerably improved visibility. They had succeeded in arranging this meeting with surprising ease and were now standing outside Karítas’s mother’s house in the suburb of Arnarnes, south of Reykjavík. Thóra had tracked down the woman’s name on-line, then looked her up in the telephone directory and tried calling her. She had drawn a blank, however, when it came to Karítas’s father. Her patronymic was Karlsdóttir but there was no Karl registered on her mother’s phone number. Perhaps her parents were divorced or her father was dead. At any rate, her mother was evidently lonely enough to view a meeting with a lawyer as a welcome diversion.

‘God, what a hideous house.’ Once again, Bella seemed unaffected by the wind as she stood on the pavement, critically surveying the property in question. It was a Spanish-style villa and Thóra had to agree that it looked totally incongruous in the Icelandic climate.

‘Shh!’ Thóra made a face at the secretary. ‘She might hear us.’

‘Are you joking?’ boomed Bella, peering around. ‘I can hardly hear you in this gale and you’re standing right next to me.’

‘All the same.’ Thóra was about to ask Bella to watch her tongue when they went inside, but decided not to bother. It wouldn’t do any good. She was hoping the secretary’s presence might come in useful, since she and Karítas had been in the same year at school. When Bella had let this slip during their visit to the yacht, Thóra had failed to follow it up, assuming that Karítas was irrelevant to the case. It had also seemed unwise to encourage Bella to talk in front of Fannar, since the secretary had looked as if she had some inappropriate comment on the tip of her tongue. Later, however, after finding the page with Karítas’s contact details, Thóra had asked Bella about their acquaintance, only to receive an angry lecture on how the fact that they were in the same year at school did not mean they were friends or had known each other at all. Thóra had waited for Bella to simmer down, then tackled her again.

She turned out to remember Karítas well, which was hardly surprising given that the other girl had been the queen bee of the school. Far from belonging to the same gang, however, Karítas had hung out with the cool kids, Bella with the misfits. Not that Bella had put it quite like that but Thóra could read between the lines. ‘Do you think her mother will remember you?’ They entered through a wrought-iron gate far too fussily ornamental for its Icelandic setting. A paved path led down to the house, which stood on a plot by the sea.

‘No way. I bet she’d like to forget those days. She didn’t live in a posh house like this then. From what I remember Karítas and her mum lived in a small flat that probably belonged to the council. Her mum used to work in the local shop.’

‘Things have obviously looked up for her since then.’ Thóra lowered her voice as they approached the front door. ‘Remember to drop in casually that you used to know her daughter,’ she whispered, ‘but for goodness’ sake don’t badmouth her. Pretend you were her number one fan.’

Bella snorted disgustedly but didn’t refuse outright as Thóra had feared. In the large white concrete tubs flanking the entrance, the yellowing stalks of last summer’s flowers poked up out of the dry earth and trembled in the wind. Thóra thought statues of lions would have been more in keeping. She rang the bell, adding as an afterthought: ‘Otherwise I’ll never take you out with me again, not even to the recycling centre.’

‘Is that supposed to be a threat?’

Before Thóra could reply the door opened and a woman emerged. ‘Oh, do come inside, quick. There’s such a draught that everything will go flying.’ She beckoned them in with a tanned, somewhat leathery arm, jingling with gold bracelets. They didn’t look genuine but then Thóra was no judge. ‘I was smoking out of the downstairs window when you rang the bell. Come in, come in.’

Thóra and Bella hurriedly closed the door behind them and the three of them crowded into an entrance hall that was surprisingly poky in comparison to the rest of the house. Thóra was afraid of elbowing the owner in the jaw as she removed her coat; a bad start like that could ruin everything. ‘What a beautiful house.’ She followed the woman down the hall. In fact, the décor was not at all to her taste, but she knew that there were people who regarded gilt and velvet as the height of sophistication. The hallway and sitting room were so cluttered with occasional tables, vases, pictures, shelves and knick-knacks that Thóra pitied the poor woman having to dust them all. On closer inspection, she realised the place could do with a good clean, but she didn’t dare spend too long examining the surfaces in case it looked rude. Perhaps the woman’s cleaner had left, which was not unlikely if she was dependent on her daughter for money.

‘Do sit down. I’ll bring us some coffee.’ While she was out of the room, Thóra and Bella had a good look around. To judge from Bella’s expression, she was even less impressed with the furnishings and ornaments than Thóra. Her upper lip curled as if she had noticed a bad smell. Really, it was hardly possible to imagine less suitable surroundings for Bella. Her attention was fixed on the photographs of Karítas, alone or with her husband, which no doubt brought back teenage memories she would rather forget, even though – interestingly – the pictures all dated from the time after Karítas had married into the jet set. There were none of her as a child or teenager.

‘Here we are.’ The woman bore in a silver tray laden with rose-patterned china cups and a large matching coffee pot. There was even a cream jug and a sugar bowl with a dainty silver spoon. ‘Would you both like some? I’m dying for a cup myself, though I’m trying to give up as my blood pressure’s sky high at the moment.’ Thóra and Bella had both nodded while she was sharing this information, so she poured them each a cup as well as one for herself. ‘Now, which of you is Thóra?’

‘Me,’ Thóra blurted out loudly in her eagerness not to be confused with the secretary. ‘I’m Thóra – I spoke to you on the phone. This is Bella who works for us.’

The woman extended her hand to Bella: ‘Hello, do call me Begga.’ Still maintaining eye contact, the woman studied her intently. ‘I recognise you. Do I know you from somewhere?’

‘I used to live in the same neighbourhood as you when I was a kid. Karítas was in my year at school. You probably remember me from those days.’

Begga instantly became very twitchy, clearly uncomfortable at being reminded of her former life, and Thóra cursed herself for not considering this possibility. ‘Bella happened to mention to me that she remembered your daughter because she was so stunning. Still is, of course.’

The woman relaxed a little. The same could not be said of Bella, but at least she refrained from making a face. ‘Karítas was always special. Even as a baby she looked like an angel.’ Her mother smiled fondly at the memory. The lipstick she had applied, perhaps in their honour, had bled slightly into the small lines that fanned out from her mouth, making her appear older than she probably was. While it couldn’t be said that her daughter took after her in looks, there was a certain resemblance, particularly about the eyes, though the woman had trowelled on such a ridiculous amount of make-up that it was hard to tell what she looked like underneath. Perhaps she had been a beauty in her youth and found it difficult to reconcile herself to ageing. Her legs were still slim and elegant, a fact she was apparently aware of as she was dolled up in a knee-length skirt and high heels that were far too smart for the occasion. In comparison to her legs the rest of her body appeared almost bloated, and she seemed to be in low spirits. ‘I can’t begin to describe how much I miss her. We’re so close. It was always just the two of us. Her father was never in the picture and that made us all the more important to each other. We’re more like best friends than mother and daughter.’ Begga’s tone sounded increasingly hollow.

‘I can believe it,’ said Thóra. ‘Does she stay here with you when she’s in the country?’

‘Usually, yes. If she’s alone. They own this house, though I live here – as a favour to them really. Otherwise they’d keep getting burgled. But when Gulam’s with her, they stay at a hotel. Not that he comes very often – or at all nowadays. It’s hardly surprising.’ Begga tossed her head. ‘Even Karítas can’t face it any more.’

‘You mean because of the business with the bank?’ Thóra didn’t dare breathe a word about debts or bankruptcy for fear the woman would take offence.

‘Yes. It’s so awful.’ Begga took a sip of coffee, and when she put down her cup there was a scarlet smear on the rim. ‘I can’t discuss it for obvious reasons – you never know what might get back to that vile special prosecutor. How could they dream that a man as rich as Gulam would commit fraud for money? He has absolutely no need to, I assure you.’ She sniffed and ran a hand over her badly styled hair. ‘Not that I suspect you of being in the pay of that prosecutor. You both seem far too nice.’