Cold Breath (Gunnhildur Mystery Book 7)

by Quentin Bates

  ‘I know. But I can’t get it out of my head. I still can’t believe it.’

  ‘Believe me, that guy meant business. I’m just glad it was him and not you.’

  Gunna found herself shivering as she sat on one of the stools, huddling into her coat in spite of the warmth indoors.

  ‘I need to get some sleep,’ she said. ‘I hope I can sleep.’

  ‘You do that. Get your head down and I’ll call you in a couple of hours. I’ll call my mate next door and tell him he’ll have to look after things on his own. Go on.’

  ‘What would you need to secure that place?’ Ana asked.

  The microwave pinged and she put a ready meal on the table, a second one ready to go in.

  ‘On my own or just the two of us?’ Michel asked. ‘Difficult.’

  ‘No, just if you had what you needed. Go on, I’ll have the other one.’

  Michel ran a fork through the unappetising stew, sprinkled it with chilli flakes and stirred it.

  ‘It depends how much damage and noise you’re happy with. I’d say two to take out the security detail along the street and three to take the house itself. A stun grenade through the window and a grenade for the door, and we’d be in. Grab the guy, tape him up and we’d be in the truck and away in under a minute, I guess. Even better if we could go via the beach. Why? What are you thinking?’

  ‘You’ve done this before?’

  ‘Many times.’

  The microwave chimed a second time and Ana tasted her ready meal.

  ‘This is shit, but I suppose you can eat it,’ she said, looking with distaste at the finished product that bore little resemblance to the picture on the packet. ‘Unfortunately that’s the easy part. What happens afterwards is the problem.’

  ‘I get you. Dead is easy, but snatching him alive is more of a headache?’

  ‘That’s about it. I’ll have to tell them that we can do dead, but if they want a snatch it’ll have to wait until he’s back in Europe.’

  ‘Where he’s surrounded by his own people.’

  ‘True. But here the headache is getting him back to the mainland alive.’

  ‘He could be sedated?’

  Ana frowned.

  ‘It’s complicated, and it’s risky. Too much to go wrong,’ she said and looked up brightly. ‘Anyway, we might have a change of plan.’

  Steingrímur’s hand on her shoulder shook her awake.

  ‘How long have I been asleep?’

  ‘It’s almost nine. Osman should be back soon and Sif is determined to talk to you.’

  Gunna forced her eyes open. ‘Five minutes.’

  She splashed her face with cold water and decided she was alert enough to face the world.

  ‘I’ve been here for almost twenty-four hours now and I need to go home,’ Sif said as Gunna emerged from her room. Sif’s eyes flashed with frustration. ‘This guy said I couldn’t leave.’ She jerked a thumb at Steingrímur.

  ‘I was given instructions to keep you here,’ Gunna said, still far from fully awake.

  ‘I’ve committed some crime, have I?’

  Gunna hesitated. ‘No, but there’s an unprecedented security situation here.’

  ‘I don’t give a shit,’ Sif snarled. ‘I haven’t committed any crime and I’m being held here against my will. Even my phone doesn’t work here. It’s like being in prison. What’s going on? Either I get taken home or I’m going to walk out of here.’

  Gunna found herself sympathizing but was unable to say so. In the turmoil, Sif had become a minor consideration. Still numb after the shooting, and with Ívar Laxdal preoccupied with the dead man’s identity, Gunna realized she should have paid Sif closer attention earlier in the day.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said finally. ‘Things have been pretty dramatic over the last few hours. I’ll do my best to get you taken home as soon as possible.’

  ‘I have to go to work tomorrow.’

  ‘I understand. Like I said, I’m sorry. I’ll talk to my boss.’

  ‘Half an hour and I’m out of here,’ Sif said, swinging a thick tress of hair over her shoulder. ‘If I have to walk until I can find a cab, I will.’

  ‘Half an hour. Leave it with me.’

  Gunna stalked the living room, concentrating on her communicator earpiece until Ívar Laxdal responded.

  ‘We have a problem. Sif is demanding to leave.’

  ‘Hell. Keep her there, can you? At least until I come back?’

  ‘Ívar, we can’t keep her here against her will. She hasn’t done anything wrong.’

  ‘I know, but she’s seen too much.’

  ‘And we should have talked to her before. Can you get Steinunn to speak to her? She said to leave Sif to her, didn’t she?’

  There was a long pause.

  ‘Sort it out, will you? I’m tied up right now.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  Gunna pulled out her earpiece and went to where Sif sat upright and angry at the bar.

  ‘You’re going home. Steingrímur will drive you.’

  ‘At last. That took a while.’

  Gunna glared. ‘I’m sticking my neck out here. I’m asking you to give me an undertaking not to discuss anything that has happened over the last twenty-four hours with anyone who hasn’t been here today. Understand?’

  ‘Of course I understand.’

  ‘Not a single word to anyone, not family, not friends. Nobody at all. As far as they’re concerned, you just vanished for a night and a day. You had a stomach bug and spent the day on the toilet.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. I get it,’ Sif fretted. ‘Come on,’ she said, standing up and turning to Steingrímur. ‘I want out of here. This place is creeping me out.’

  ‘Not a single word out of place. This could be a terrorist incident, so you’ll be as silent as the grave until this is sorted out. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yeah. I won’t even tell my boyfriend where I’ve been. All right?’

  The lights of cars arriving swept across the ceiling, and Gunna switched the television off just as the ten o’clock news began.

  The travellers trooped in, Steinunn with a practised smile, Osman looking drawn and irritable, while Ívar Laxdal brought up the rear.

  The smile died on Steinunn’s lips as Osman disappeared into his room, shaking his coat off. Ívar Laxdal stuffed his beret into his coat pocket

  ‘Is there a problem?’ she asked, a glint of steel in her eye.

  ‘Can we have a word without Osman listening in?’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Now.’ There was no mistaking the determination in Ívar Laxdal’s tone. ‘We have a problem,’ he said before Steinunn had a chance to ask a question. ‘In fact, we have a whole bunch of problems.’

  ‘Then bring me solutions.’

  ‘I have a whole range of solutions, but I’m not sure you’re going to like any of them.’

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘Firstly, get him out of Einholt. As I said before, it’s no longer a safe place.’

  Steinunn stared at Ívar Laxdal, her lips pinched in anger, which she quickly controlled.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I told you – it’s been identified as his location,’ Laxdal said. ‘As long as he’s here, we’re just waiting for another attempt on his life. My officers could be in the firing line.’

  ‘And? Do you have somewhere safe for him?’

  ‘Somewhere well outside the city. But out of the country is the best option.’

  Steinunn chewed a lip, the first sign of indecision Gunna had ever seen the minister betray.

  ‘There’s more you need to be aware of,’ she said, and Steinunn looked up sharply.

  ‘What?’

  Gunna took a deep breath and glanced at Ívar Laxdal, who opened his mouth to speak, and then stopped.

  ‘You must have seen what the media has been carrying about Osman, that his foundation is a front for a trafficking operation. The foundation is a cover to launder cash that goes through the accounts, ostensibly as charita
ble donations.’

  Steinunn’s mouth hung open for a second before shutting like a trap.

  ‘You can’t be serious. I don’t believe this.’

  ‘And I can’t believe you haven’t seen this, or been briefed on it. What we have from the National Security Unit doesn’t contradict the press reports.’

  ‘And you didn’t tell me? Why not?’

  ‘You were told,’ Ívar Laxdal snapped. ‘At least, the possibility that this was the case was mentioned in the report those baby-faced twins produced before Osman arrived in Iceland.’

  ‘Shit,’ she breathed, glaring across the desk at them. ‘I don’t have to tell you what damage this could do,’ she said, pointing a finger at Ívar Laxdal.

  ‘What I’m concerned with is the body we already have on ice, the safety of my officers and getting this colossal liability out of the country before something goes massively wrong. This was supposed to be a four-or five-day assignment, and it’s already turning into something open-ended. We don’t have resources for an extended security operation.’

  ‘I had hoped he’d be here for a few weeks,’ Steinunn said, as if lost in her own thoughts. ‘I want confirmation of these allegations first thing tomorrow. I cannot accept that my own judgement has been so wrong. I’ve known Osman for some time now. I’ve even been to one of the shelters he runs in Greece. I’m convinced he’s an honourable man, so you’ll need to persuade me otherwise.’

  Osman looked tired. With Steinunn and Ívar Laxdal gone, for the first time he showed a vulnerable side to his character.

  ‘Good evening,’ Gunna said. ‘Had a good day?’

  Osman looked at her suspiciously through narrowed eyes, as if he were wondering whether she was being sarcastic.

  ‘It has been a long day,’ he said at last and sighed. ‘A very long day.’

  ‘There’s coffee in the pot and food in the fridge,’ Gunna told him, taking a seat at the end of the long dining table.

  After a moment’s indecision he poured himself coffee and sat down stiffly, as if the day’s exercise had been more than he was used to.

  ‘Where is . . . ?’ he said and hesitated. ‘Where is Sif?’

  ‘She’s been taken home. She’s not happy and I’m hoping she can keep her mouth shut.’

  Osman sipped his coffee.

  ‘That’s a shame. I’d hoped she would still be here. A lovely young woman,’ he said. ‘So we are alone again, Goon-hild-oor?’ he asked, rolling the syllables of her name slowly across his tongue with a smile. ‘Just the two of us?’

  ‘That’s it. Just us again.’

  ‘And you are still armed?’ he asked, tapping a cigarette from a packet and hunting through his pockets before clicking a cheap lighter. ‘You don’t mind if I smoke?’

  ‘I’m still armed, and yes, I do mind if you smoke. This place has some very sensitive smoke detectors, and if you don’t want a couple of fire engines and police cars turning up outside, then I suggest you open that door and stand outside.’

  ‘Like being a teenager, eh?’ Osman grinned, standing up and opening the door that led to the shoulder-high enclosure around the hot tubs. ‘You want one?’ He proffered the packet through the open door where he stood half outside, his profile silhouetted by the moonlight.

  ‘Not for me, thanks.’

  ‘You never smoke?’

  ‘Not any more.’

  He smoked moodily and stubbed out his cigarette in a tin by the door before pulling it shut, shivering. He dropped back onto the chair, a languid leg draped over the armrest, and laid his head back. He rubbed his eyes and Gunna checked the door, shooting the bolts into place.

  ‘You look tired.’

  Osman’s eyes snapped open.

  ‘Today I have seen mountains, a lot of rocks and six different kinds of weather, and although Steinunn is a wonderful lady in many ways, I don’t think she has stopped talking for more than a minute since this morning.’

  ‘You’re a distinguished guest, so I guess you’ve been given a VIP tour.’

  ‘Maybe. I should feel honoured, if that’s what you mean?’

  ‘No comment,’ Gunna said and suppressed a smile. ‘You mean Steinunn doesn’t make the best tour guide?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Osman said, crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes as he laughed. ‘You did well last night, Gunnhildur. I’m impressed,’ he said, the smile disappearing from his dark eyes. ‘You have killed someone before?’ he asked softly.

  ‘No,’ Gunna said sharply. ‘Of course not. There’s only ever been one police firearms incident in this country that resulted in someone’s death.’

  ‘One? Is that all?’

  ‘It’s a very peaceful place. We don’t generally see gun crime and police officers aren’t armed.’

  ‘And now there are two.’ He smiled, eyes still fixed on hers. ‘You were all so worried last night that I thought this had to be something unusual.’

  ‘This isn’t unusual where you come from?’

  Osman laughed, this time with little humour. ‘I was brought up in the shadow of a civil war and there is nothing unusual where I come from about people settling differences themselves. I could strip down and reassemble a Kalashnikov with my eyes closed when I was ten years old. You have to learn to defend yourself if you intend to stay alive,’ he said in a slow voice. ‘As you have found out.’

  Gunna felt a chill pass through her at the recollection.

  ‘So do you have any idea who the man is?’ Gunna asked and watched as Osman shook his head. She saw his eyes flicker rapidly to one side before settling to a steady gaze again. ‘Who would want to do you harm?’

  ‘There are plenty to choose from,’ he said with a short bark of laughter. ‘I don’t know where to start.’

  Gunna swung a kitchen chair around and sat on it backwards, folding her arms on the chair back as she returned Osman’s stare.

  ‘Let’s have a few ideas, shall we? Who would be so keen to come after you with a gun that they’d travel all the way to Iceland to do it?’

  Osman sat up, taken aback by Gunna’s determined line of questioning. He lifted his chin up and to the side, and raised one long leg off the arm rest.

  ‘Why do you need to know? Does it matter?’

  ‘Of course. A man has lost his life and we need to identify him. There’s also a real chance that he wasn’t working alone and we can expect someone else to try the same thing.’

  ‘Gunnhildur,’ Osman said. ‘Where I come from you don’t get involved in politics without making enemies. They may not even be my own personal enemies. My father also had no shortage of people wishing him harm. My uncles have even more.’

  ‘And you inherited your father’s enemies?’

  ‘Of course. That’s the way things work. My enemy’s son is also my enemy.’

  ‘This wasn’t someone from the Middle East. At least, he wasn’t . . .’

  ‘Wasn’t what? An Arab?’

  ‘Definitely caucasian. Fair hair. Uncircumcized.’

  Osman’s eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch towards the thick dark hair that spilled over his forehead.

  ‘Interesting,’ he said eventually after staring at his hands. ‘Unlikely to be a traditional enemy, then. In any case, they would not travel so far. To them I am only a threat if I am present.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. So, any ideas? I can understand you being unpopular, but you have to be seriously unpopular for someone to come all this way to try to kill you.’

  ‘I have no idea, officer.’ Osman stood up and stretched, his midriff a few feet from Gunna’s face. He stepped forward and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. ‘It’s been a long day and I’m going to sleep,’ he said with a grin. His white teeth flashed in the half darkness. ‘I’ll leave the door open in case you feel like keeping me company.’

  Chapter Six

  Michel sniffed the air and gauged the wind as they got out of the car. It was the deadest time of the night, with many hours before dawn would
break over the mountains to the east. This was his favourite time, when no people were to be seen and he could walk almost unseen among the homes of those who had no idea they could be being watched.

  He led the way, footsteps crunching on the gravel underfoot, and only switched on the lamp on his head as he turned the corner, taking them out of sight.

  ‘Ready? You’ve done this before?’

  ‘Why do you think I’m here?’ Ana replied, dropping her rucksack on the ground and snapping open the catches. ‘How far is it?’

  ‘The other side of the headland there.’

  She shook off her shoes and jacket and unrolled the drysuit, pulling it on and scowling.

  ‘Sorry. It’s Pino’s and he was taller than you,’ Michel apologized.

  ‘That’s all right,’ she said, squatting low to force air out of the suit. ‘Come on.’

  The two kayaks, once orange and now roughly painted matt black, rocked in the waves lapping at the shingle.

  ‘Here,’ Michel said. ‘In case there’s a problem or we get separated, this place is waypoint one. Hit the home button and it’ll take you right back here.’

  She nodded, stowed the GPS set in the drysuit’s waterproof knee pocket and pulled on a balaclava and a pair of neoprene gloves.

  ‘Ready?’ she prompted.

  ‘Yeah. Stay close. We don’t want to lose each other and that’s easy to do in the dark.’

  ‘Black boats and black clothes. You don’t need to tell me,’ she replied. ‘You know where we’re going, so you go ahead and I’ll be on your tail.’

  The night wind was a lazy one, a breeze that gnawed at exposed faces. Half a moon appeared at intervals from behind the clouds and Ana followed behind Michel as his firm strokes set a steady pace towards the black shadow across the water.

  It was as the two kayaks rounded the headland and left its shelter that the wind hit them harder and the chop of the water buffeted the boats. Keeping close together, and with frequent sideways glances, they paddled closer to the beach that could hardly be seen. Michel back-paddled and Ana caught his arm, keeping the two kayaks bobbing in the choppy water.

  ‘There,’ Michel said. ‘That’s the place.’

  He slipped off a glove, opened a pocket and handed her a night vision scope. Ana peered through it, watching the shoreline jump into clarity as if it were only a few steps away.