‘There’s no need. I’m okay.’ The connection is beginning to leave him. ‘The truth is there’s actually nothing wrong with me.’ He squeezes her arm. ‘I’m perfectly well.’
Kass stamps on the brakes and both their heads nearly hit the front screen. ‘What the hell is going on?’ She looks like she might actually hit him. ‘Is this some kind of sick joke?’
‘That’s actually quite funny.’ Before she can further demonstrate her anger, he says, ‘It’s not me who has the problem– it’s Nero. He’s in trouble. He fell into the sea.’
‘Oh sjitt!’
‘But it’s okay – well, sort of. He’s made it to the other boat, though he’s not in good shape.’
‘Sjitt!’ She rotates the two-seater through 180 degrees – so fast he’s forced up against the side. They just miss falling off the edge of the track.
‘How far is it to that boathouse of yours?’ He hopes they’ll make it in one piece.
‘If I really gun this thing, we could be there in ten minutes – that’s if we’re not stopped by a patrol.’ She swerves abruptly for a ninety-degree turning. The state of the track has them bouncing along. ‘These old roads take a bit longer but we need to make sure no one sees us.’ She turns the lights right down.
‘Try not to hit any rocks or potholes,’ he says peering out into the darkness.
‘I’m doing my best.’ She’s steering from side to side like a drunk.
‘There’s a really big one just after the next bend,’ he tells her.
‘Big what? Rock or pothole?’
‘Both.’ They veer to the left. ‘If you total this thing we’ll never get there,’ he says.
‘Then shut up and let me concentrate.’
‘Maybe I should drive – after all, I’m the one who can literally see what’s coming.’
‘Not on your life.’
‘It’s my life I’m worried about.’
‘I liked it better when you couldn’t speak,’ she tells him.
The area around the little hamlet is in darkness, lit only by moonlight. Kass kills the vehicle’s lights along with the speed and they cruise to a halt behind a line of ramshackle boathouses.
A dog barks and then another but no lights go on. Finding his legs are working properly again, Bruno steps out of the Valkyrie. Trying not to make a sound, he follows Kass round to the front of the boathouse. He looks for the largest rock. Lifting the edge, he retrieves a small key and hands it to Kass.
‘How did you know which one?’ she whispers. ‘No, just forget I asked that.’
The boathouse itself is far wider than it looked from the fjord. When they fold back the doors, her dad’s boat is sitting there on its trailer.
It’s easy to wheel the boat out and position her with the stern facing the lapping water. They launch her from the trailer. Bruno keeps hold of the shoreline as she floats free. Kass takes the rope from him and secures it around a post sticking out of the shallow water near the jetty.
They wheel the trailer back into the boathouse. Kass lugs the new outboard out and fixes it in place at the stern before connecting it to the battery unit. ‘Sjitt!’ he hears her mutter more than once.
When that’s done, she disappears around the back and reappears in the near-silent Valkyrie, steering her carefully into the empty space inside. ‘Wait,’ Bruno says. ‘I know the code for its locater unit. We don’t want the marine police sniffing around here.’
‘Okay, do it,’ Kass says, ‘but be quick. And remember to lock the doors afterwards.’
‘Oh yeah,’ he mutters to himself, ‘because that’ll keep out the marauding hordes.’
Kass is waiting by the boat. She unties the rope while he clambers aboard. She jumps in. ‘Sjitt,’ she says, ‘my feet are soaked.’
‘I’d offer to steer while you sort yourself out,’ he says, ‘but I already know you’ll turn me down.’
Once they’re away from the shore, she turns the boat sharply around. ‘Okay, now you take over.’ The whole thing rocks alarmingly as they stand up to swap places. ‘You see how us ordinary mortals can surprise you sometimes,’ she says, taking off one of her boots to tip the seawater overboard.
‘I forgot you used to suffer from chilblains,’ he tells her. Bruno can see she’s tempted to throw the boot at him. Now they’re in deeper water, it’s easy enough to crank up the speed. He twists the grip and the little craft really takes off, gliding soundlessly across the open water to meet the first waves of the oncoming tide.
She tips more seawater from her other boot. ‘I won’t ask how you know which way to head.’
‘I’ve been known to be wrong,’ he says. ‘Right now, Nero’s drifting on the tide about fourteen miles off shore. I just hope we can get to him before he falls asleep.’
‘Why – does that make it more difficult for you two to communicate?’
‘It’s not that,’ Bruno says. ‘If he goes to sleep, his heartbeat is likely to drop dangerously low. At the moment he’s fighting to stay awake.’
‘Sjitt!’
‘You know you could try to vary your expletives.’ Bruno shrugs – a gesture he knows is lost in the darkness. ‘Why not choose a different bodily function? What’s wrong with piss, for example?’
‘Farðu í rassgat!’
‘You see, I know that one’s something about an arse – same back end of the anatomy, I’m afraid.’
‘And I know you always make jokes when you’re really scared,’ she says. ‘You don’t have to be psychic to work that one out.’
‘It beats forever talking about shit.’
‘Just concentrate on the task in hand.’
‘Why didn’t you tell Wifrith about your relationship with Jón? Don’t you think your life partner should– ’
‘Haltu kjafti!’ she says. ‘Þegiðu! Is that any fokking better?’
‘Okay, there’s no need to be quite so be rude. From now on my lips are sealed.’ Looking at her, he mimes a zip across his mouth – another lost gesture. When he looks back, the lights of the city are reduced to a glow spreading out along the rapidly disappearing shore.
It’s a long and uncomfortable half hour; with spray flying everywhere, they bounce from wave to wave. Since leaving the fjord, they’ve encountered no ships or fishing trawlers – nothing but the unending weight of the sea around them.
‘I’m sure we’re close now,’ Bruno says, twisting the grip the other way to slow the motor. Above him, cloud is misting the moon. He peers out across the black expanse of water. The only sound is the shuddering thwack each time a wave collides with the sides of the boat.
Standing up, legs braced, Kass turns the searchlight to maximum and runs its powerful beam over the heaving surface in every direction – back and forth. ‘Don’t know about you, but I can’t see a damn thing out there,’ she says.
Bruno shuts his eyes against the intrusion of the light and looks deep into the darkness. ‘We’re close now,’ he says, ‘I’m certain of that.’
‘God, I hope you’re right about this.’ She sounds unconvinced. ‘Can you tell if he’s alright?’
‘All I know is he’s not shivering anymore.’
She touches his shoulder. ‘So that’s a good thing, right?’
Bruno opens his eyes again. ‘Not if he’s hypothermic.’
Lowering the lantern she sits back down. Wishing he hadn’t said that aloud, he twists the grip and pushes the tiller away so that the boat heads left – further towards the magnetic north.
After a couple more minutes, the moon reappears, its light gilding the edge of every wave.
‘Slow down!’ Kass shouts, ‘I think I can see something out there.’
Bruno cuts the motor to a crawling speed. Following her pointing finger, he narrows his eyes and can just make out a dark shape above the waves. With the next
surge, the angle of the object changes. It’s definitely a drifting boat, coming closer with each new wave. ‘That’s him,’ he says.
Kass swings
the lantern beam across the sea until it picks out the boat. There’s no discernible damage; from the way she’s riding the waves, she would appear to be sound enough; but there’s no waving figure, no sign at all of anyone on board.
‘I think you’d better take over the controls,’ Bruno says. ‘The next bit is going to be hard.’
Without a word, they swap places. As they draw nearer to the other boat, Bruno shines the light over it again; her sleek lines glow out of the darkness like cat’s eyes. With great care, Kass begins to manoeuvre them closer. Gradually she turns the boat through thirty-five degrees, heading across the tide and then out in a wide circle that brings her round some way behind the boat.
Speeding up, Kass closes the gap until they’re almost alongside her.
When Bruno raises the lantern again, he sees a figure standing up in the stern.
It’s Nero.
He’s wrapped in a shining blanket like some glitzy snowman. Nero waves and then positions both hands around his mouth. ‘So what kept you?’ he bellows across the heaving water.
The two boats come alongside and Kass throws him a rope. On the second attempt, Nero catches it. Once he’s tied it off, he gives her a thumbs-up and they haul their own boat closer.
‘That’s a new look for you,’ Bruno says clambering across. After an awkward hug, they slap each other on the back.
Nero winces. ‘Not so hard.’ His smile is weak. ‘Thank you both from the bottom of my half de-thawed heart.’
‘You’re welcome,’ Kass says. ‘You look very – how can I put this? Very nineteen-eighties disco ball.’
‘Hey – no disrespecting the blanket,’ Nero says. ‘This thing just saved my life.’
‘Nice threads,’ Bruno says. The fabric is warm to the touch. ‘I’m guessing it must have some sort of built-in heating element.’
Before you ask, there’s only one, and no – you’re not borrowing it.
Bruno laughs out loud. You’re joking – I wouldn’t be seen dead. ‘Anyway,’ he says aloud, ‘that thing might be a lifesaver but it makes you look like Navaho Elvis.’
Kass jumps in almost on top of them. Both boats rock violently from side to side while she gives Nero a long bear hug. ‘I’m fine, really I am,’ he says. ’Try not to rock the boat, there’s only one of these blankets.’
Kass breaks away. ‘Are we going to stand around all night talking crap or are we going to finish the job?’ She wipes her face with the heel of her hand. ‘Let’s get on with scuppering this fine craft of yours and then we can head home.’
‘If there’s one thing tonight has taught me,’ Nero says, ‘it’s that holing a boat is much trickier than you might imagine,’
Bruno nudges him. ‘Only because you got the charge setting the wrong way round.’
‘Clearly, this task needs the finesse a woman can bring to it.’ Kass pulls a weapon from her shoulder holster. ‘Luckily, I’ve brought my Aries 12 along for company. You two get into the other boat. Go on – we’re freezing our arses off out here.’
‘After you,’ Bruno says looking at Nero. ‘By the way, have you noticed this woman’s obsession with the scatological?’
‘Let’s face it,’ he says, ‘we’ve all been shit scared tonight.’
Once they’re back in the little fishing boat, he hears two blunt shots like an animal being put out of its misery. ‘Here I come.’ Kass lands in the centre. It pitches again and then steadies. Moving to the stern, she starts the motor and they head a short distance away before stopping again.
The shore boat is already filling up. They watch it slip below the next big wave. ‘God bless all who sailed in her,’ Kass says.
They’ve slowed down – the battery must be nearly drained. Kass cuts the struggling motor and lets her drift right up to the wooden jetty. Reaching out, she grabs hold of one of the supports to pull them in closer. ‘Off you get,’ she tells Nero. ‘Go on – it may look a bit rickety but it’s quite safe. Bruno can help me get the boat back into the shed.’
Standing up, Bruno grabs one of the wooden uprights to steady the boat as Nero climbs out. With a wave, he turns towards the shore.
‘You know you look oven ready,’ Bruno shouts after him. A sentinel dog barks a few times but fails to rouse any of the others. With a final growl, it grows silent.
This time they both get their feet wet. ‘Sji – no, fokk it!’ Kass says as they squelch up the foreshore.
Nero is already standing by the open doors of the boathouse. ‘Not quite lost your touch then,’ Bruno says.
Extending his arms like shining wings, he envelops them both. ‘Like I said before, I really don’t know how to thank the two of you.’
‘This group hug business is all very well,’ Kass says pulling away first, ‘but we’re not done yet. Once I’ve dropped you two off wherever, I’ve got to get this Valkyrie back to Jón in one piece without running into a patrol.’ Standing on one leg, she empties the water from her boot once again. ‘It’s not going to be easy.’
‘Won’t be a problem,’ they assure her in unison.
Kass drains the other boot. ‘You know, if there’s one thing more annoying than a know-it-all, it has to be two know-it-alls.’
‘This thing only has two seats,’ Bruno says. ‘Which means one of us has to squeeze into that load space behind.’ The two of them look him up and down.
‘Okay, I know it’s going to be me. Can I just say that now we’re back on dry land, I for one plan to celebrate by consuming a very large quantity of alcohol.’ He nudges Nero. ‘And guess who’s buying.’
‘There is the little matter of the curfew,’ Kass says. ‘Even the worst places will be locked up.’
Nero does the angel thing with his arms again. ‘Bar’s open at my place. It’s the least I can do.’
‘The least you should do is have a hot shower and a meal and then get to bed,’ Kass tells him. ‘We’re more than happy to help ourselves to your booze.’
Squeezing into the back of the Valkyrie is far from easy. Bruno’s limbs end up folded in a posture worthy of a contortionist. ‘Let’s get this agony over with,’ he says.
Eleven
Maxwell knocks sharply on Nero’s open door. He looks up. ‘Sorry to disturb you, sir,’ she says. ‘There’s a Mrs Bresson down in Pathology kicking up a fuss. She was asked to formally identify her husband – his was one of the bodies they found in that factory?’ Her raised intonation questions his memory. ‘Anyway, now she’s refusing to leave the building until she speaks to a senior homicide officer.’
There’s something different about Maxwell although physically she looks much the same – tall, athletic frame, coffee-coloured skin; her hair always pulled back under tight control.
‘Can’t Kass – I mean Inspector Kassöndrudóttir – deal with it?’
‘The inspector’s not here at the moment.’ In his head he hears her add: so you’ll have to do. Did she genuinely think that or is he just imagining it?
Avoiding his eye, Maxwell looks away to the line of plug-ins on his desk as if noticing the fine layer of dust on them. Then she clears her throat. ‘So, shall I tell her you’re too busy or what?’
There’s a definite tone to her voice. She’s swinging the door very slightly backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards; creating a draft, a slight breeze he can feel on his skin. Her curious eyes are taking him in, seemingly fully aware of the fact that he’s been idling here most of the morning with no obvious outcome.
‘No. I’ll go down there,’ he says, standing up. She steps back abruptly as if eager to avoid any chance of even the slightest physical contact. The next minute she smiles – an agreeable expression but it’s a covering gesture; he reads nothing agreeable in her dark eyes.
Nero retrieves his jacket from the back of his chair and follows her out of the room into the over-lit corridor. With a purposeful stride, she heads off towards the
Incident Room. He makes a mental note to find out exactly what she’s working on.
The lift doors open onto that clinical, almost metallic smell. He can hear raised voice already. ‘I understand your distress, Mrs Bresson, but– ’
‘You think you understand my distress? Tell me, did your husband get shot in the leg in some godforsaken hole and lie there until he bled to death? No? Then don’t you dare tell me you can even begin to understand my distress.’
‘Mrs Bresson, we all appreciate this must be a very difficult time for you.’ This time it’s Jóra Bjarnadóttir doing her best to restore the peace. She touches the woman’s shoulder but is instantly shrugged away.
‘Perhaps I can help,’ Nero says. Jóra swings round, smiling her relief.
‘This is Inspector Cavallo,’ Jue Hai says, giving him a nod of recognition. ‘He’s the senior homicide officer here. I’m sure he’ll be able to tell you more about the circumstances surrounding your husband’s death.’
Nero holds out a hand to Mrs Bresson but she refuses to shake it. ‘Why don’t we go up to my office,’ he says. ‘I’ll do my best to answer any questions you have.’
He turns towards the lifts while extending his arm in the air behind her slight figure. ‘After you.’ She’s shivering, all her outrage replaced by the daunting prospect of learning more of her husband’s last moments of life.
A wave of compassion runs through him. What exactly is he supposed to tell this poor woman?
In the early afternoon, Governor Hagalín strides into Nero’s office. ‘I hear there was a bit of a kafuffle in Forensics this morning,’ he says, no greeting, no preamble. ‘Next of kin demanding answers on those factory killings.’
So far, the governor hasn’t once alluded to his kidnapping ordeal. The man’s not known for his compassion, but it seems odd not to even mention it. Is he suspicious?
He stands up. Looking down on Hagalín’s rapidly growing bald patch he says, ‘I did my best to calm the poor woman, sir.’
Hagalín purses his lips. ‘She’s not the only one demanding answers, is she? Social media is awash with speculation. Someone must have leaked the fact that three dead foxes were brought in with those bodies.’ The governor adjusts his cuffs one after the other. ‘Now they’re claiming what happened in that factory was the handiwork of our rogue decoy. Our own “Avenging Angel”.’ He does the bunny ears thing. ‘Or some such nonsense.’
Within Each Other's Shadow Page 6
