‘Mum’s a compulsive shopper,’ Sara Sól said, as if to answer the questions that Daníel and Helena hadn’t asked. In a corner sofa at the far end of the living room Karen sat hunched, holding out a Bónus supermarket carrier bag full of euro notes.

  54

  As there had been no alert to let her know that her Trojan horse email had been opened, Áróra decided it was time to hurry things along. She went to Tækjakistan’s little cubbyhole in the Smiðja district, in the hope that the man she had watched eat his lunch the day before had made it to work.

  It turned out that he had. He sat with his feet on the desk as he played a computer game. Judging by the sounds coming from the computer, this was a battle game. The noise was so loud that he didn’t seem to notice when Áróra entered the shop, and he jumped with surprise when he saw her approach the counter.

  ‘What? Can I help you?’ he asked, his attitude far from welcoming.

  ‘Yes,’ Áróra said, smiling amiably. ‘I’m looking for a lawn robot, one of those mowers that mows your lawn automatically—’

  The man hardly let her finish speaking before he cut in.

  ‘We don’t have anything like that.’

  ‘Really?’ she said in mock surprise. ‘I was told you did, so I sent an email yesterday—’

  Again, she was interrupted.

  ‘No. Nothing like that.’

  ‘Don’t you have stock here?’ Áróra asked, craning her neck to look around, as if peering behind the man towards the narrow door behind him. More than likely it was just the toilet, but it would be interesting to know if there was more to Tækjakistan than this cubbyhole.

  ‘Why are you asking?’

  There was a sudden suspicion in the man’s eyes.

  Áróra forced a laugh in response.

  ‘I was just wondering if you had a stock here so you could take a look and check what mowers you do have.’

  ‘There’s no stock here,’ the man said shortly. ‘This is just an office.’

  As she had suspected, this place was just a step up from a brass-plate company.

  ‘Oh,’ she sighed. ‘Do you know where I could find a lawn robot?’

  She looked innocent, eyes wide, hoping that coming across as helpless would prompt a response.

  The man groaned and removed his feet from the desk.

  ‘What make are you looking for?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know. My husband asked me to come and check it out, and he was sure you’d have them in stock,’ she said, fluttering her eyelids as she gazed at the man. ‘Could you take a look at the email I sent yesterday? There was a picture of the type of lawn robot he’s looking for.’

  He sighed, shook the mouse and clicked a few times. Áróra shifted along the counter so she could see the screen, and saw him open the message and then click on the attachment that opened a perfectly innocent picture.

  The man looked sulkily at the screen and shook his head.

  ‘Nah. Don’t know what that is,’ he said. ‘Haven’t a clue who sells these things.’

  ‘OK, thanks anyway,’ Áróra said sweetly, sending him a dazzling smile.

  The smile was still on her face as she emerged onto the street, as she was satisfied with this piece of work. Sometimes it was useful to play the helpless blonde. She could go home, brew some strong coffee and get to work, because she now had access to Tækjakistan’s computer.

  55

  ‘I thought Flosi would look after me for ever,’ Karen said, dabbing at the tears running down her cheeks. She seemed to weep effortlessly, as if deep inside her was a silent well that had been filled to overflowing. Sara Sól wiped her nose and sniffed repeatedly, and an occasional sob could be heard in her throat as she sat opposite her mother and looked at her in despair. ‘When I say me, I mean that we’d look after each other like we always had. I just couldn’t understand that he was no longer as fond of me as I was of him.’

  Daníel nodded and she looked over at him enquiringly for a moment.

  ‘You’re separated, aren’t you?’ she asked, and he nodded wordlessly. ‘I can see you understand exactly what I mean. The heartache. The loneliness that grabs at you at the weirdest moments.’

  Daníel understood perfectly. Each time he had separated, it had been his decision, but that did nothing to alleviate the sorrow that inevitably followed.

  ‘I suppose the simplest way to say is that after we split, I lost control of my life,’ Karen continued. ‘I consoled myself by buying all kinds of things that would make me feel better, make me happier. And it always worked, but only for a little while. Then my heart would start to ache, and the same thing would happen again. I’d go and buy something, like a set of golf clubs, telling myself I’d feel better if I played golf.’

  ‘You only went in for golf when Dad started playing,’ Sara Sól broke in. ‘She joined the same golf club as him,’ she added by way of explanation, glancing at him and Helena, and her tone of voice was such that Daníel wouldn’t have been surprised to see her roll her eyes.

  ‘That may well be,’ Karen said quietly.

  ‘Admit it,’ Sara Sól said. ‘You’ve never stopped loving him.’

  Karen didn’t reply but a weak, apologetic smile crossed her face.

  Daníel cleared his throat.

  ‘You said the other evening that Flosi had been completely fair about the separation, and you weren’t left badly off,’ he said.

  Karen dabbed at her face, and sat up straight on the sofa.

  ‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘We split everything down the middle, and he paid maintenance for Sara Sól, plus he always put money in her account as well.’

  ‘Which I saved up and used to buy you out of the house,’ Sara Sól said, her voice somewhere between sharp and emotional.

  ‘Yes. This house, which I bought after the divorce, was pretty heavily mortgaged a couple of years ago. So Sara Sól offered to buy me out.’

  ‘And now you’re up to your ears in debt again,’ Sara Sól said. This time there was no accusation in her voice, only despair. ‘Because you still spend and spend and spend.’

  Karen sighed and pushed another carrier bag of money across the table to Daníel, who took it and handed it to Helena.

  ‘Flosi upset me last night,’ Karen said, and the tears again flowed down her cheeks.

  ‘I understand,’ Daníel said, recalling the angry exchange that he had half heard coming from the kitchen.

  ‘And I know Flosi well enough to be sure that he hadn’t changed the combination on the safe.’

  ‘My date of birth,’ Sara Sól said. ‘He uses my date of birth as his PIN for everything.’

  ‘So you took the cash to get back at him, or because you needed the money?’ Helena asked, her tone gentle, but Daníel could tell from her question that she had the report she would have to write in mind. This was a mandatory question: What reasons did the accused give for the theft?

  ‘Ach. I don’t know what I was thinking,’ Karen said, no longer bothering to mop up the tears. ‘I just knew about all that money up there. And he was so horrible to me … It was just a moment’s madness on my part.’

  56

  Sara Sól went with them to the door and followed them outside. They paused to say goodbye standing between the motorhome and the caravan. The rain had stopped, but the wind came in gusts, apparently from every direction; it was so strong that Helena was terrified that it might snatch some of the money from the two carrier bags in her hands.

  ‘Is there any chance that this doesn’t become a major issue?’ Sara Sól asked, looking at Daníel. It was clear that she had more hope of a positive answer from him than from Helena.

  ‘I’ll talk to your father,’ Daníel said in a voice so gentle that it was as if he were speaking to a child. He never ceased to take Helena by surprise. He seemed to have some sympathy for everyone, regardless of how unpleasant or annoying they were. She longed to model herself on him and his mild understanding of all kinds of people, because she knew that this made him a good detective, but she simply wasn’t able to. She was unable to put herself in someone else’s place as easily and naturally as he did.

  They got into the Garðvís van, Daníel behind the wheel while Helena put the bulging carrier bags in the passenger-side footwell and clamped them between her knees.

  ‘It’s a strange feeling to have two million euros in a couple of Bónus bags,’ she said. ‘Shouldn’t we call in an escort for this?’

  Daníel shook his head.

  ‘No, that’ll attract too much attention. It’s best if we get this back as unobtrusively as possible and discuss with Flosi whether he wants her charged, or if he wants to just treat it as a family matter. I’d guess he would prefer to avoid taking this to court and laying that burden on his daughter. She has enough problems, poor thing.’

  ‘You’re so nice,’ she said, putting her sunglasses back on, even though it was a gloomy day. ‘Every time I see this Sara Sól I want to give her a good shake. I don’t get how you manage to be so reasonable with everyone.’

  She felt woozy as the van pulled away, and could have done with an ice-cold Coke right at that moment.

  ‘It comes with experience, my dear. Let’s talk again in twenty years,’ Daníel said, shooting her a grin.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Helena said. ‘If anything, I feel my shell growing harder the longer I’m a cop.’

  ‘I mean life experience, not just professional experience.’

  ‘That doesn’t add up,’ she said. ‘I know old cops who are still wankers. And a couple of young ones who are nice like you.’

  Daníel smiled again.

  ‘Life experience isn’t counted in years,’ he said. ‘Unfortunately, it seems that people only learn by dealing with hardship. The good times don’t help us to grow up.’

  ‘Shit. You’re so deep,’ Helena sighed. The painkillers hadn’t made any kind of dent in her headache, so tonight she would have to find the relaxation she needed.

  ‘Every time life punches you to the ground,’ Daníel continued, ‘it knocks away some of the arrogance and the illusion of self-importance, and that makes it easier to understand the circumstances others find themselves in.’

  57

  It occurred to Daníel that Helena wasn’t her usual self, but he decided against saying anything. This was the first time that he had noticed her being anything less than fully alert when she turned up for a shift. He knew she was aware of his opinions of those who reported for duty on a major investigation on anything other than top form, and in general she wasn’t the type to let him down. She was reliable and precise, and normally the one to let others know that they weren’t firing on all cylinders. Something must have upset her, unless it was the tension around this investigation that was affecting her. For his own part, it had been a relief to discover that Guðrún had probably staged her own abduction. From that point, the focus could be on tracking her down, then digging deep for the reasons behind her actions before initiating a legal process.

  But beneath the surface he was troubled by a slight doubt – that things weren’t what they appeared to be. He knew himself well enough to know that this doubt would stay with him until he and Guðrún were sitting opposite each other as she recounted her version of events.

  Maybe it was this doubt that was also troubling Helena. While it was tiny, this uncertainty over whether or not Guðrún had done this herself, it stung, nagged and irritated. And along with it came the mental image of Guðrún as a captive, terrified – her life in danger if they weren’t able to conclude the case properly.

  ‘There’s an overwhelming likelihood that she did this herself,’ he said, as if he was speaking to himself rather than to Helena. She grunted her agreement. They were outside the house and he stopped the car in the street, waiting for a moment, eyes on the rear-view mirror, but there was nothing to be seen. There was no sign that they had been followed, so he steered the car up the drive.

  Helena got out of the car with the bags in her hands and headed straight for the front door. Daníel took his time, following a few steps behind, ready to react to any kind of attack or ambush by criminals determined to snatch the cash. But everything was quiet. This was just his nerves at work. He had never before been this close to such a pile of money.

  Flosi was sitting on the stairs in the hall and looked up as they came in. His face was puffed with weeping. Yesterday’s good spirits had vanished.

  ‘Has something happened?’ Daníel asked, but both Flosi and Kristján, appearing from the living room, shook their heads.

  ‘Nope,’ Flosi mumbled. ‘Just reality catching up with me, I suppose,’ he said. ‘I think it’s all just starting to sink in properly. I’ll go and lie down for a while.’

  He stood up, and Helena handed him the bags.

  ‘Money,’ she said.

  ‘Ah. Yes,’ he said, taking the two Bónus bags, and Daníel was struck that he seemed completely unperturbed at the fact that the two bags contained more money than many people would earn in a lifetime.

  ‘Karen took the money,’ Daníel said.

  Flosi absently nodded his head.

  ‘Yes. I spoke to Sara Sól. I agree with her completely that we can keep this within the family,’ he said, then turned and made his way up the stairs.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Helena said.

  Flosi paused halfway up the flight, turned and looked down at them.

  ‘Of course, yes. Thank you. I’m very grateful that you recovered the money,’ he mumbled.

  Daníel could see that Helena was itching to give him a piece of her mind, so he spoke before she had an opportunity.

  ‘I suggest that after Monday you ought to pay this money into an Icelandic bank account and pay the tax,’ he said, slipping into the authoritative tone that suited him, but which he was careful not to use too frequently. ‘I think you’ll have to agree that this money has caused enough harm already.’

  There was plenty more he could have said. He could have explained the importance of taxes. He could have presented an entire lecture going through the reasons why the wealthy have a responsibility to repay the society from which they have profited. He could have pointed out to Flosi the irony that the man was calling on his services, those of the police force, which was funded by taxpayers, at the same time as he was evading paying millions of krónur in tax. But he held back.

  There was something in the expression on Flosi’s face, as he stood on the stairs, hunched as if gravity was exerting an extra-strong pull on him, that made him unable to feel anything but sympathy for the man.

  Flosi nodded a couple of times, muttered something unintelligible, and turned to continue his way up the stairs. As he did so, he looked as if he were struggling to cope with the weight of the bags of money.

  58

  Judging by its accounts, Tækjakistan was an interesting company. Áróra went through the figures and wrote down a few notes as she tried to work out how it operated. There were outgoings, connected to the Range Rover and the salary of the sulky guy behind the reception desk. It also paid an astronomical rent for its poky cubbyhole of an office to a company called Kuzee slf. According to the registry of companies, this was owned by a man called Leonid Kuznetsov. A quick check through publicly available documents showed that he was a Russian citizen with an Icelandic residence permit. The other invoices paid by Tækjakistan were all to Flosi’s company, Garðvís ehf, and the company’s only revenue appeared to be from Flosi’s offshore accounts.

  No more was to be gleaned from Tækjakistan’s accounts and there was little else to be found in the company’s computer. The email in- and outboxes were empty, indicating that mails were deleted immediately, and the browser seemed to be used only for porn and computer games. She signed out of the connection and switched off the spare phone that she had used to connect to the internet. She had, however, been able to find out from the national registry that this Leonid, who looked to be Tækjakistan’s landlord, lived just a stone’s throw from her.

  The weather was grey but dry. To be on the safe side Áróra put on a raincoat and wound a thick scarf around her neck. It was a short walk and she had no idea what she might find out, but a dose of fresh air would at least clear her mind.

  She walked briskly down to the slipway, past the harbour and the shore, and turned into the Shadow District. Leonid’s taste for housing seemed to be similar to hers: his apartment was in one of the large corrugated-iron-clad houses on Lindargata. She twice walked past the house, and then stepped into the porch where she checked the names beside the doorbells and saw that the door at the side of the house, which seemed to lead up a set of stairs to the middle floor, was marked L Kuznetsov. Now that she had located exactly where Leonid’s flat was, she could go home to fetch the car and park it somewhere with a view of the door. That would give her an opportunity to watch anyone coming and going, and to see if any interesting visitors turned up. It was obvious that Tækjakistan was a front company, and now she needed to find out if Leonid was genuinely the landlord. At any rate, the whole thing smelled fishy.

  Áróra had hardly stepped onto the pavement when she heard footsteps behind her. Before she could turn around a hand took hold of her shoulder, and a moment later she felt the impact as she was slammed against the wall, held fast by an arm pressed hard against her throat.

  ‘Are you following me?’ yelled the sulky guy she had spoken to earlier in the day, his face flushed red with agitation. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded, without lowering his voice.

  She was furious with herself for not having been more cautious. He must have appeared from Leonid’s doorway, and no doubt he had seen her from the window of the apartment, walking back and forth along the street.

  There were two options open to her in such a situation. She could wait for him to relax the pressure so that she could speak and pretend to know nothing, telling him that it was pure coincidence that she had been at Tækjakistan that morning and then snooping around the landlord’s place later in the day. But that wasn’t a tempting prospect. She wouldn’t buy that story herself. The other option was to free herself and run for it.