Thin Ice: An Inspector Gunna Mystery (Gunnhildur Mystery Book 5) (32 page)

‘You sly bastard. You’re after Alli’s territory.’

‘No comment, Össi. No comment.’

Magni took a wad of notes from his pocket. ‘Fifteen thousand euros, as agreed for two passports.’

The cash vanished as if by magic and Rafn looked expectantly at Össur, who hesitated.

‘Don’t fuck about, Össi,’ Magni snapped. ‘Give the man his money.’

Össur grudgingly handed over a thinner stack of notes. ‘No tricks, eh, Rafn?’

‘Össi, what do you think we are?’

‘I know what you are.’

‘Shut up, will you, Össi?’ Magni said. ‘Listen, how’s this done? How can we be sure these passports aren’t reported and will flag up alerts at the check-in desk?’

Rafn sighed. ‘All right,’ he said after a moment’s thought. ‘The guy there.’ He pointed at the open passport in Magni’s hand. ‘He’s been naughty and he owes people more money than is healthy. Understand? The other two passports belong to his father and sister. They don’t travel and won’t miss them for months. That way we get passports that have a lifetime of let’s say three months, or maybe more, before the owners notice they’re gone, and the naughty boy gets his debt cleared. Until the next time . . .’ Rafn smiled, patted the pocket containing a respectable amount of Alli the Cornershop’s euros and opened the door of the van. ‘Have a good time. Make it a long holiday, Össi.’

They were parked far enough up the hill not to attract attention. Gunna and Steingrímur watched the block of flats, waiting for traffic or for lights to be switched on.

‘Time?’ Gunna asked.

‘Almost ten.’

‘Hell. I’m wondering if our birds have flown the coop?’ She clicked her communicator. ‘Helgi?’ she said, forgetting correct procedure.

‘Nothing here,’ Helgi’s voice crackled back. ‘The guys are all about to doze off.’

‘I didn’t hear that,’ Steingrímur muttered.

‘I know, Helgi. The excitement’s just overwhelming, isn’t it?’ She could hear him yawning. ‘Another hour?’

‘I reckon so. We old boys like to be tucked up before midnight, you know.’

‘Get away with you. Give it an hour and we’ll think again.’

‘Gotcha.’

Steingrímur brooded in the passenger seat. The van with Helgi and the three other officers from the Special Unit was parked out of sight on the far side of the building with a view of the entrance, while Gunna and Steingrímur had a view of the road down to the row of blocks of flats.

‘Car,’ Steingrímur said, looking in the mirror and lifting his binoculars as a set of lights swept the rain-soaked street.

The rain had finally stopped and a full moon could be seen between shreds of cloud racing eastwards with a half gale hurrying them on their way.

‘Helgi,’ Gunna said. ‘We have company.’

‘Gotcha.’

Gunna and Steingrímur sat back in their seats, their faces out of the light, and watched as a black BMW came too fast down the road, grounded on a speed hump and screeched to a halt in a space further down.

‘Not them, I think,’ Gunna said.

‘Let’s see.’

They trained binoculars on the car as both doors opened and a man in a suit leaped from the driver’s side while a woman in a short dress got out of the passenger side and strode away with her nose in the air, leaving the door wide open.

‘Oops,’ Steingrímur chuckled. ‘I think you may be right.’

They watched the man close both car doors and hurry after the woman, who had slammed the door of a ground-floor flat behind her. The man hammered on it.

‘Sólveig!’

Gunna looked at Steingrímur and smothered a chuckle. ‘Looks like someone’s not going to get lucky tonight?’

‘Sólveig!’

‘We could do without this,’ Steingrímur muttered as the door flew open and the woman stood silhouetted in the doorway with her arms crossed.

‘What?’ she yelled. ‘Get out! I’ve seen enough of you. And take your wandering hands with you. Don’t think I didn’t see you, Sindri. Everyone saw what you were up to!’ she yelled and reached behind her, lifting a bag and throwing it down the path. ‘Now fuck off and don’t show your ugly face around me again.’

The door slammed shut and the man stood stock still. Eventually he bent down, picked up the bag and slung it over his shoulder as he trudged down the path back to his car, tapping at his phone as he went. A moment later the BMW bumped back over the speed humps and disappeared into the night.

‘That’s all the excitement we’re likely to see tonight, I reckon,’ Steingrímur yawned.

‘We’re not going back to that flat,’ Össur rasped.

‘What’s got into you?’

‘It’s wrong. There’s something wrong about that place. I can feel it.’

They were parked outside a drive-through kiosk, celebrating the arrival of their new passports with greasy burgers and paper cups full of surprisingly good coffee.

Magni screwed up the paper his burger had been wrapped in and dropped it out the window.

‘And don’t do that,’ Össur snapped at him from the back seat.

‘What the fuck?’ Magni growled, putting the car into gear and letting it bump across the car park to the road. ‘What’s got into you? I just dropped some rubbish.’

‘It attracts attention, and that’s what we can do without.’

He drove without speaking for the few kilometres through Kópavogur with the street lights shining through the drops of rain collecting on the windscreen, sensing the tension brewing on the back seat. Össur broke the silence.

‘Keep away from that flat. You hear me?’

‘Come on, Össi. What’s the problem? Nobody could know we’re using the place, could they?’

Össur’s voice cut through the darkness. ‘You’re a proper pair of amateurs, aren’t you? There are nosey bastards everywhere poking through other people’s business. You’ve no idea who’s seen what.’

Magni yawned and glanced at Tinna Lind. ‘What do you reckon?’

‘I don’t know. But Össur could be right. Why take chances?’

‘See? Even your girlfriend thinks I’m right.’

‘All right, where are we going tonight, then?’ Magni demanded, his temper close to boiling over. ‘Any smart ideas?’

‘It’ll be the fucking cop shop on Hverfisgata if you’re not careful,’ Össur snarled from the back seat.

Steingrímur’s eyes looked closed but Gunna had no doubt he was awake. She was struggling to keep her eyes open, although the sight of a Subaru coming down the road and parking outside the ground floor flat where Sindri and Sólveig’s relationship had come so publicly unstuck had been a diversion. Two women had emerged from the car and been greeted on the doorstep by a tearful Sólveig, a glass of wine in one hand, and opinions on the long-gone Sindri’s behaviour, looks, physique, taste and performance in bed had been loudly shared before the trio disappeared inside.

After that everything had gone depressingly quiet again and Gunna wondered to herself if this was a late-night wild goose chase, until her communicator clicked into life.

‘We have company,’ she heard Helgi say from his position in the van on the other side of the building. ‘A guy on a bike. On his way up the stairs.’

‘Thanks, Helgi. Nothing so far this side,’ Gunna said and nudged Steingrímur with her elbow. ‘Something’s happening. There’s a light in the apartment up there.’

Steingrímur trained his binoculars on the windows. ‘Nothing to see. No lights on there.’

‘Not one of the house lights. It looked more like a flashlight inside.’

‘I think you’re right,’ Steingrímur said with satisfaction. ‘Fun and games at last.’

‘Helgi, get ready,’ Gunna called into her communicator. ‘Looks like the mystery man is in the flat.’

Gunna and Steingrímur silently mounted the stairs up to the broad walkway leading to the row of upper flats with Helgi and another officer bringing up the rear. She listened at the door and shook her head.

‘Key, Helgi?’ Gunna murmured.

He had the key in his hand, and was about to insert it when the door opened and as much of a face as could be seen between a wool hat pulled low and a scarf pulled up to the chin appeared. For a moment there was silent surprise on both sides before the figure pulled the door back and then slammed it forward, but Steingrímur’s boot stopped it short and he shouldered it hard inwards, knocking the man into the wall and onto a small table that collapsed in splinters beneath him as he fell backwards.

Steingrímur and Helgi hauled him to his feet.

‘Good evening, young man,’ Gunna said, looking him up and down, and taking in the leathers. ‘How about we all go down to the station for a chat?’

* * *

Magni fretted in the driver’s seat while Össur sat still and upright behind him, his gaze fixed on what could be seen of the street through the drizzle.

‘Is she going to be long?’ he said at last.

‘How the hell should I know?’

Magni felt ill at ease, left alone in the car with Össur and the occasional click of the pistol’s safety catch.

‘Five minutes and then we’re out of here.’

Magni sat in silence.

‘You heard me?’ Össur demanded.

‘I heard you, and no. We’re not going anywhere until she’s back.’

‘If I say go, we go.’

The pistol clicked once.

‘And if I say no, we don’t go anywhere.’

‘My job. My rules, Magni,’ Össur said in a quiet voice that was somehow far more sinister than his usual bluster. ‘Sometimes you just have to cut someone loose. Know what I mean?’

‘No, I don’t know what you mean, and if you think we’re going without her, you can think again,’ Magni snapped back over his shoulder, expecting to feel the cold barrel of the Baikal at his neck at any moment.

The argument was halted as the passenger door opened and Tinna Lind dropped into the seat.

‘And?’ Össur asked.

‘Go, Magni. Anywhere you like, but let’s not hang around here.’

He started the engine and the car moved forward as he told himself to keep it slow.

‘What happened?’

‘Össur was right,’ she said with a sigh, turning in her seat to catch his eye, while Össur nodded with satisfaction. ‘There are lights on in the flat and a couple of cars parked outside that weren’t there today. And there’s some shouting going on, so let’s make tracks, shall we?’

The roof of the summer house rattled in the wind that had picked up through the evening. There was a strong tang of the sea in the air and spray from the shoreline a few hundred yards away in the darkness. Although there was nothing to be seen, the roar and crash of waves on the rocks was clear enough. Magni licked his lips and tasted the salt as they hurried from where he had parked the car on the seaward side of the wooden house, out of sight from the road.

Inside he carefully covered the landward windows one by one with squares of black plastic cut from rubbish bags, taping them in place.

‘Don’t want to attract attention by letting the lights show, do we?’

‘What is this place?’ Tinna Lind asked, looking around the cabin.

‘It belongs to the seamen’s union. Members can book it for a week’s holiday, but I don’t reckon anyone wants it at this time of year.’

‘Just as well we’re not staying long, isn’t it?’ Össur said, rummaging through the kitchen cupboards. His face lit up as he came up with a bottle of amber fluid. The level was still above the label and he smacked his lips.

‘Nightcap, anyone?’ he crowed. ‘I reckon we deserve a drink.’

They sat over three glasses of cheap cognac and fingered the three passports.

‘They look real enough,’ Tinna Lind said and caught Össur’s eye. ‘Did Rafn double-cross us on this?’

‘Rafn would sell his own grandmother if he could,’ Össur grunted. ‘But I don’t think he’d screw us over on this. My guess is he wants us out of the way completely, not in a cell.’

‘Why? Go on, convince me.’

‘Well,’ Össur said, ‘Rafn may be an evil little bastard, and I can say that because I’ve known him since he was ten years old, shoplifting cardamom drops from Hagkaup and selling them to street drunks. But in the trade the Undertakers have a reputation for straight dealing, and if he screws me over, word will get around, which is bad for business. It’s different with you civilians, though,’ he added and knocked back his cognac. ‘Besides, if we’re caught we could blab to the cops that he sold us stolen passports. That would give them an excuse to shake him down and he wouldn’t like that.’

‘Charming, so there really is some honour among thieves?’ Tinna Lind said, sipping her drink and savouring it. ‘We need to do some shopping tomorrow.’

‘What for?’

‘Hair dye, to start with,’ she replied, opening the passport. ‘I need to be blonde if this is supposed to be my photo, and you need to be a lot less grey. Magni should be all right. It just looks like he’s cut his hair, grown a beard and lost a bit of weight. And we need to get glasses for both of us. Those cheap ones with heavy frames will do the trick, as long as they’re not too strong.’

‘You reckon so?’ Magni asked. ‘You can do all that stuff with the hair?’

‘Duh. Easy enough. It’s easier than changing the oil in that car out there. Then we need to get to a computer somewhere.’

‘What for?’ Össur asked.

‘Tickets, Össi. We need to get flights.’

‘I went to a travel agent last time.’

‘That’s fine if you prefer that,’ Tinna Lind said. ‘But you might as well put up a notice board outside saying, “Össur’s here”, as go to a travel agent in town.’

‘You can get tickets on the internet?’

‘Easy as you like,’ she assured him. ‘It takes five minutes. We have a card that’s going to work? And we all need to decide who’s going where?’

Gunna lay awake for a long time. The memory of Thorvaldur Hauksson close to death refused to leave her and was only replaced by the mental images of him as a younger man in a denim jacket, dark hair in a lion’s mane around a chiselled face, and piercing blue eyes through curling cigarette smoke.

After a while she got out of bed silently and ran the tap for a glass of water in the kitchen, where she sat with the day’s paper, flicking through the pages without registering much more than the outline of the pictures, although photos of Tinna Lind Bogadóttir and Össur Óskarsson caught her eye and she read the text under the pictures. She wondered if they would ever be found, and then reassured herself that their chances of disappearing entirely were slim. Sooner or later they would show up, probably together, and even more probably with plausible reasons for having been out of touch for so long.