She was about to get into the shower when the phone rang. The name on the screen was Michael’s, so she answered it straightaway.

  ‘Hi, Michael,’ she said, seeing an image in her mind of his cropped head and laughing brown eyes.

  ‘Flosi wants to transfer the money to Iceland and he’s prepared to pay the ransom,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll check out flights,’ Áróra replied. ‘You’ve told him that I only travel with registered amounts and he’ll have to declare the cash to the authorities in Iceland?’

  ‘I have,’ he said. ‘I don’t think he’s in any mental state to take rational decisions right now. Maybe you had better talk it over with him.’

  21

  Daníel fixed Flosi with the glare that colleagues described as so intense it hurt.

  ‘The most unbelievable details can make a huge difference to an investigation, so I cannot over-emphasise how important it is to tell the full, correct truth,’ he said, and saw how Flosi flinched. He rolled in his hands the cup of coffee Daníel had passed him as he came downstairs. It seemed to Daníel that he was trembling. ‘Yesterday you were adamant that your relationship with Guðrún is in good shape—’

  ‘It is, that’s the fact of it,’ Flosi interrupted. ‘And now that I look back, I’ve no idea what I was thinking.’

  Flosi twisted his hands as if he were kneading invisible dough.

  ‘What were you thinking, Flosi?’ Daníel asked, softening his tone but maintaining the piercing glare. ‘You are, as you say yourself, happily married. Yet you have a lover.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Flosi muttered, finally taking his terrified eyes from Daníel to gaze down into his coffee cup. ‘It’s not easy to explain, but Guðrún and I were…’ He hesitated and grimaced. ‘We are. Guðrún and I have become set in our ways, and – how shall I put it? – there was a certain restlessness about me.’

  ‘Restlessness?’

  Daníel had no intention of letting him get away with explaining away the hardest part of his situation with some trite phrase.

  ‘Yes,’ Flosi mumbled. ‘The marriage is good and solid, and I can always rely on Guðrún, but…’

  He fell silent. Daníel waited for him to continue. He appeared to have fallen silent. He calmly sipped his coffee, and Flosi did the same, his movements leisurely, but his eyes flickering back and forth over the kitchen floor, as if some respite from this uncomfortable position might be found there. Finally he looked up and laughed foolishly.

  ‘You know what we guys are like,’ he said in a feeble attempt to be jovial.

  Daníel shook his head.

  ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘Aren’t you married?’ Flosi asked.

  ‘No,’ Daníel replied.

  ‘Or, y’know, in a relationship? A long-term relationship?’ he asked, and the desperation seemed to take hold of his expression. Daníel decided to let him wriggle a little longer.

  ‘No,’ Daníel said. ‘I’ve twice been in long relationships, but I haven’t been in the position of living with one woman while seeing another on the side, if that’s what you’re implying.’

  ‘Yes, well. No,’ Flosi gasped, took a gulp of coffee, spluttered, coughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  ‘Explain it for me,’ Daníel said, softening his tone even further. He adopted an amiable expression that seemed to work immediately, as Flosi sighed and his shoulders drooped. ‘If the marriage is so good, why cheat on Guðrún?’

  ‘I suppose the simplest way to explain is that Guðrún and I are close friends and we have a good life together, but there’s no passion there any longer. I’m as fit as a fiddle and still have a strong sex drive, but my wife seems to be more interested in the television than in me.’

  The words came out in a rush, and Daníel could see him flush pink, starting at his collar line and moving upwards to his cheeks.

  ‘OK,’ Daníel nodded. ‘And when did you start a relationship with … What’s her name?’

  ‘I don’t want to involve her in any way, so I’m not giving her name,’ Flosi said, quick and decisive, his self-confidence suddenly regained.

  ‘I see,’ Daníel said. He had a keen sense for when it was worth applying pressure and when to hold back. They could trace the call to find out who she was, anyway. But it was important now to establish when this had started. ‘How long has this relationship been going on?’

  ‘Well, some months. Maybe coming up for a year.’

  ‘And how close are you?’ Daníel asked. ‘By that I mean, how much does your mistress know about your circumstances?’

  ‘Everything. She knows exactly what my situation is,’ Flosi said. ‘I’m completely honest with her.’

  Daníel did his best to stifle the grin that came unbidden to his face at this smug declaration of honesty.

  ‘So she knows about your offshore accounts? That you have millions of euros hidden away?’

  It took Flosi a moment to realise what Daníel was driving at, but when he understood, he seemed to shudder.

  ‘No!’ he said with emphasis. ‘No, no, no. Nothing like that. She knows nothing about my financial affairs beyond what’s common knowledge, which is that I’m fairly well off. What I mean by “my circumstances” is that she’s aware that I’m married and all that. I don’t believe that she has anything at all to do with this.’

  ‘Is there any possibility, and I want you to think carefully about this’ – Daníel lifted an accusing index finger to underscore the importance of the question – ‘is there the slightest possibility that Guðrún could be aware of your mistress?’

  22

  ‘Michael said that you’re a fixer,’ Flosi said, his eyes so beseeching that Áróra almost felt it was a shame to put her cards on the table.

  ‘I’m a financial investigator, which means that I search for lost money. I’ve helped Michael with all kinds of things over the years. Let’s say that I’m usually prepared to bend the rules as far as they’ll go, but as I’m a certified financial and secure document courier and can’t afford to lose my certification, I only travel with registered and declared cash. So if you want me to collect your euros, then they will have to be declared on arrival in your name. And that means that sooner or later you’ll get a bill from the taxman.’

  ‘Yes,’ Flosi muttered. ‘Of course, of course.’ He nodded emphatically, as if stressing that it would never have occurred to him to not declare the money.

  ‘I’ve no doubt that Michael can find someone to carry the cash, someone who wouldn’t declare it. But then you’re running the risk of being pulled at customs and the money being seized. It takes weeks of bother to get it released.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘No question. Of course everything has to be legal and above board. The important thing is to have the cash ready when the kidnappers want it. Paying tax is a problem for later on. I’ll deal with that then.’

  ‘Good,’ Áróra said. ‘I’ll catch a flight tomorrow.’

  She went into the living room, where Daníel sat tapping rapidly at his laptop, the low rattle of his fingers on the keys creating a rhythm with the ticking of the clock.

  ‘What do you think?’ Áróra asked, and the rattle of the keyboard stopped as Daníel looked up.

  ‘He’ll never pay this ransom,’ he said. ‘We’ll nab these guys when they turn up to collect it. He might as well fill the bag with old newspapers. They’ll never get as far as looking inside. But of course I can’t stop the man from withdrawing his own money.’

  ‘No,’ Áróra said, and went to leave the room, turning back as Daníel coughed.

  ‘We need to stay in close contact,’ he said. ‘I need to know everything that happens.’

  Áróra looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, trying to figure out if he meant Flosi, the money and the kidnapping, or if there was some hidden meaning in his words; about her, about them. She shook her thoughts off as he spoke again.

  ‘It’s going to be important for us to have your involvement, because, apart from family, you’re the only one who has a real reason to be here, so it’s no problem if you’re seen coming and going. I’m sure that whoever is behind this is very much aware of Flosi’s overseas accounts, so they could easily work out that you’re working with his accountant.’

  23

  When he reached the coffee house on Reykjavíkurvegur, he was out of breath, and despite the bitter wind that had buffeted him as he had jogged up Hraunbrún, he was sweating. He had borrowed a pair of Flosi’s tracksuit bottoms and left through the back door and the garden, and gone from there out to the road, in the hope of not attracting attention. Now he would spend some time in the coffee house to check if he had been followed. Anyone watching him could assume that he was a family friend staying with Flosi to support him through this difficult time, and had found time to go for a run, to the shops or to stop off for a coffee, just like normal people did. He would just need to take care that he couldn’t be easily tracked back to the police station, or home, as it would be no great challenge to look the building up in the online phone directory to find that he was listed there, along with his profession.

  He sat by the window with his coffee and sipped it while he looked out over the street, wearing an expression that he hoped said he was taking it easy, watching the traffic, which streamed past remarkably steadily, considering how late in the morning it was. In reality, all his senses were working overtime as he paid careful attention to every movement outside. The row of shops that included the coffee house was also home to a sports shop, a photocopying place and a mysterious little shop that seemed to sell mostly incense and statues of Buddha; it wasn’t seeing much footfall for the moment. A red Honda appeared and pulled up outside the photocopy shop. A man with a sheaf of papers under one arm got out, went into the shop, reappeared minus his paperwork, and drove away. A moment later a woman walked past the coffee house window, and a little later she walked back, this time carrying a bag marked with the sports shop’s logo. Cars filtered past, and as far as Daníel could make out, none of them drove suspiciously slowly, or showed any indication that someone might be watching the coffee house. He finished his coffee and sent Helena a text message, asking her to bring the car to the back of the building. Then he got to his feet, and persuaded the surprised proprietor to let him go out through the back entrance.

  The commissioner met them just as they arrived at the station and accompanied them up the stairs. She had a grave expression on her face and said nothing more than, ‘This is quite something.’ To which Daníel and Helena simultaneously agreed that this was indeed a hell of a puzzle. Two adjoining rooms at the end of the corridor on the third floor had been commandeered for them, and Helena opened the door with a key, handing Daníel another.

  ‘That one’s yours,’ she said. ‘There’s a new barrel in the lock, and only four keys.’

  As the door shut behind them, the commissioner finally spoke to the group that had been brought together in the room, and there was a steely determination in her voice.

  ‘With this investigation we have shorter lines of communication than usual. The head of CID knows about this, but instead of information going through him and the chief superintendent, it comes direct to me. There are four of you in the team to begin with. Daníel, you’re running this investigation, and you have Helena, Kristján and Palli with you. Oddsteinn is the prosecutor’s representative who is with us on this. Is there anything you want to say, Oddsteinn?’

  The commissioner glanced at Oddsteinn, who stood up, his habitually stiff and formal self, and adjusted his tie before speaking.

  ‘Just a reminder that although these are unusual circumstances, we all have to bear in mind that we’re working towards a conviction as a final outcome. So everything has to be recorded and the LÖKE database is your best friend as far as that’s concerned. I’m available at any time, day or night, if there’s any advice you need. Apart from that, I’ll do my best not to get in your way until you have a suspect lined up. That’s when I’ll be breathing down your necks.’

  The group broke into a peal of laughter, and the commissioner allowed herself a fleeting smile. They all knew and liked Oddsteinn, who was one of the better members of the prosecutor’s team to work with. He came across as unbending and formal, but was nimble and co-operative. The commissioner thanked Oddsteinn for his input before continuing.

  ‘Yes, you have experience of working with the prosecutor’s department, Daníel, and you’re perfectly able to assess what you need for this investigation. And you’ll get whatever you ask for, whether it’s manpower or support from other divisions. But while we’re figuring out exactly what we are dealing with, the investigation needs to be kept as small as possible to minimise the chance of anything leaking out. The four of you have the keys to this room. Nobody else has access. I repeat, nobody. And I don’t have to remind you that you don’t discuss this case with anyone not connected with it.’

  Helena nodded, while Kristján and Palli muttered something unintelligible. It was clear that they both felt this reminder was unnecessary. The commissioner seemed to notice the looks on their faces.

  ‘We’re naturally bound by confidentiality in all of our work, but in this instance that confidentiality extends to anyone outside this room, including colleagues,’ she added.

  ‘Áróra Jónsdóttir is in the loop on this,’ Daníel broke in. ‘She needs to be able to keep tabs. She’s not exactly part of the case, but she’s able to provide us with important information and she’s the key to Flosi’s hidden cash.’

  Palli raised a hand, like a schoolboy eager to ask an urgent question, and Daníel prepared himself to defend Áróra’s involvement.

  ‘What about Jean-Christophe?’ he asked, and Daníel, standing beside the commissioner, heard her take a deep breath through her nose, as if stifling a tired sigh. Palli was notorious for nit-picking, and nobody knew if this was a stress response on his part, or if he was simply sometimes slow on the uptake.

  ‘Forensics get the information they need to do their work, and Jean-Christophe and his guys know that this is an ultra-discreet investigation that has to be kept totally confidential. I have impressed on them, as I am on you, that Guðrún Aronsdóttir’s life could depend on us keeping things to ourselves.’

  For a moment there was complete silence in the room as they all looked up at the commissioner, and Daníel guessed that they were all experiencing the same emotion as he was: a chill that slithered up his back and spread itself out, ice-cold and terrifying, mixed with a nagging suspicion that they weren’t equipped to take on this investigation.

  ‘Good luck,’ the commissioner said.

  24

  Kristján had done a good job of setting up their incident room with everything they needed. One room had been furnished with four desks, charging and network cables for their computers and a large whiteboard at the end, while in the inner room was a large table and chairs so they could meet and spread out documents.

  Right now, Helena, Kristján and Palli each sat at a desk while Daníel stood by the whiteboard as he summed up the investigation so far.

  ‘I would prefer to be at the scene as long as I can, as I have a strong feeling that the solution to all this lies somewhere in Flosi’s background,’ he said. ‘And while I could have one officer always present in the house for when the kidnappers make contact, I feel it’s best if I’m there. I’m gradually gaining Flosi’s trust, and it makes things much simpler if we’re not constantly coming and going, or getting him to come to the station for questioning. That’s a risk we can’t take, as we don’t know if the house is being watched.’

  Helena was satisfied with this arrangement; it meant that she would be the link between Daníel and the boys and would give her an opportunity to prove herself in a management role. She could even be the one running the daily briefings.

  Daníel turned to the whiteboard and sketched his familiar diagram, which resembled a lattice of columns and rows, and began to fill them in. They had all seen this before, and while it wasn’t exactly necessary to begin with, seeing the diagram gave them the sense that there was an overview of the investigation as a whole – that it wasn’t just a hopelessly complex web of minor details, but a simple puzzle that could be solved. The grid would represent their list of tasks as the investigation progressed, and their role was to fill in every single space, with either a cross or a tick.

  Daníel wrote MOTIVE in large letters at the top of the first column.

  ‘Who could possibly have a motive to kidnap Guðrún and demand a ransom for her release?’ he asked in the thoughtful tone he used when thinking aloud. ‘Who is so financially desperate that they would go to such extreme lengths? And who could possibly be doing this as a way of punishing Flosi, or even Guðrún herself?’

  At the top of the next column he wrote MEANS, and carried on thinking out loud.

  ‘Who has the resources to carry this out? If we assume that Guðrún was taken against her will, as the state of the kitchen would indicate, then a certain physical strength is needed, or else more than one perpetrator. That means a vehicle, presumably a van of some kind, and a place where Guðrún can be held, which means premises where unexplained traffic isn’t going to attract attention.’ Daníel fell silent. He turned to Helena. ‘Anything else?’ he asked. ‘What else would the kidnapper need to be able to kidnap Guðrún?’

  ‘Organisation,’ Helena said.

  Daníel nodded.

  ‘Yes, it requires some organisational ability. This calls for thought, planning, plotting. This isn’t a spur-of-the-moment kind of crime.’

  ‘If they are monitoring the house, then that calls for either tech equipment or manpower,’ Kristján added, and they sat in thought for a while. The room was silent.