Cold Breath (Gunnhildur Mystery Book 7)

by Quentin Bates

‘Yeah. I don’t want to hang around.’

  ‘And tonight? What are you going to do tonight?’

  ‘Room service and an early night.’

  Valgeir lapsed into silence and settled deep into his seat, the scarf wrapped around his face, and didn’t relax until the car was on Hringbraut and leaving the western part of town behind.

  ‘Tonight,’ Skúli said, signalling and slowing to take the turning off the main road, ‘I’m sure Dagga would like to see you before you go. Get a taxi to ours and you can have a meal with us tonight.’

  Valgeir grimaced.

  ‘I’d like to,’ he began, ‘but right now I just want to shut myself away.’

  ‘Come on. She’s about the only relative you have in Reykjavík. You ought to say goodbye, surely?’

  Valgeir sighed.

  ‘All right. If I must. But don’t go to any trouble.’

  The car came to a halt outside the hotel and Valgeir opened the door to get out.

  ‘See you at six,’ Skúli said as Valgeir reached into the back seat for his case and struggled to lift it.

  ‘Like they say in the movies, I’m making you an offer you can’t refuse,’ Luc said, shifting his stool up to the table and planting his elbows on it, staring Osman in the eye.

  ‘If it’s an offer, then I can refuse if I choose to.’

  ‘Hear me out. You’re in the shit up to your neck. There are two rival factions battling it out, who have been united by you. They’ve discovered they have one thing in common; they both want you delivered to them in one piece, alive. And you know what that means,’ Luc said in a stuttering, rapid delivery. Osman opened his mouth to speak, but Luc held up a finger in his face.

  ‘You have a choice in this, sure. Your option is to get off a flight in Brussels tomorrow and my people collect you before you even get to passport control. From there you do business as usual, except that we’re watching every step you take. Your foundation continues as before, except that you tell us every detail about the people you’re dealing with, what they’re doing, where the cash comes from, and we see every cent that comes in and goes out, who put it there, what dog-leg routes it took and why it came to you. Understand?’

  Osman’s eyes became the impassive black pools that Gunna had seen before.

  ‘And the other option?’ he asked in a low, clear voice.

  Luc folded his arms.

  ‘You get off a flight in Brussels tomorrow,’ he said. ‘That’s it. You get off the flight and do whatever you like.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I know how big the bounty on your head is, and these people really, really want you. If they don’t get what they want, the price tag will just keep going up until someone delivers. But I don’t believe it will go that far,’ Luc said and paused. ‘I put your chances of staying free at a week . . . ten days at the most.’

  A tremor passed through Osman and his jaw trembled.

  ‘You think I am afraid?’

  ‘Maybe not. But I also know you’re not stupid. You know what will happen to you when you’re delivered. You’ll tell them every single thing they want to know, give them access to all your businesses and bank accounts, and by the end you’ll be begging them for a neat finish with a bullet.’

  ‘I’m to be thrown to the wolves. Is that what you’re offering, Commander Kerkhoeve?’

  Luc shifted in his seat and took his time answering. If he was surprised that Osman knew his name, he did not show it. The atmosphere in the room was electric as everyone waited.

  ‘That you get to live.’

  ‘For how long?’

  ‘For as long as you’re needed. You run the foundation as usual.’

  ‘And when I’m no longer needed?’

  ‘You surrender the foundation to a charity of some kind and we help you disappear.’

  ‘I know about disappearing,’ Osman replied with bitterness. ‘It’s not as easy as you think.’

  ‘True,’ Luc agreed. ‘But we have resources, and sympathetic contacts. A new identity is easily created when you have access to the apparatus of government. Making it work is down to the individual. If you have the discipline to keep your head down and abandon what you were before, it’s perfectly possible. Of course, you have to be aware that it’s very much in our interest for you to live to a ripe old age without being discovered. So it’s a long-term commitment on our part, not an offer that would be made to just anyone, you understand.’

  Osman sighed and clasped his hands in front of him on the table as his eyes stared at the wall above Gunna’s head, where the kitchen clock ticked away the seconds.

  ‘There are conditions,’ Luc said, breaking the silence.

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘One strike and you’re out. We are talking complete co-operation, no hesitation, no deals on the sly, nothing held back.’

  ‘Meaning what? Punishment?’

  Luc laughed. There was no mirth in it, just a bark of cold amusement that nobody shared.

  ‘There would be no need to administer any punishment. We would simply withdraw and the wolves could have you. It wouldn’t take long.’

  Ana unwound the scarf from around her neck and opened Peter Eriksen’s profile page again on the library computer.

  She was nervous now, sure that she had made a mistake in dealing with Valgeir. She wanted to return to the flat on Öldugata and make sure, but kept telling herself that it would simply compound one mistake with another.

  She clicked on the messages, and saw with satisfaction that she was asked to arrange a meeting with Michael’s teacher whenever it might be convenient.

  She deleted the messages, closed the profile and opened the airline’s web page.

  The next morning’s nine o’clock flight could get her home in time for lunch.

  Ívar Laxdal’s Volvo was packed for the journey back to the city. Osman sat in the middle seat, squeezed between Birna and Gunna as Luc glowered in the front seat.

  Leaving Akranes behind, Osman craned his neck for a last view of the colourful little town as it disappeared behind them. A few trails of powder snow snaked lazily across the black tarmac of the road, driven by the wind, and the top of the mountain looming over the town disappeared into fat grey cloud that threatened more snow.

  As the Volvo approached the Hvalfjörður tunnel, a police patrol car slipped into position ahead of them, before they dipped down the long slope into darkness. Gunna could feel Osman’s nervousness magnified and glanced to one side to find his eyes shut tight.

  ‘All right?’ she asked.

  ‘Just a little claustrophobia,’ he muttered and gave her a thin smile. ‘It’ll be fine. I just have to convince myself we’re going to come out the other side.’

  Once out of the tunnel and into the remains of the daylight, the patrol car escort’s lights flashed blue and it picked up speed, overtaking trucks and cars along the road skirting the coast.

  Always nervous as a passenger, even with Ívar Laxdal at the wheel, Gunna wanted to close her eyes as well.

  The city had the feeling of hatches being battened down. The morning’s sunshine had gone and a few shallow white drifts began to collect by the roadsides and against walls and cars parked facing the north-east wind. The patrol car’s blue lights stopped flashing and Ívar Laxdal eased the car off the main road and through the cloverleaf onto Reykjanesbraut.

  ‘We are leaving the city?’ Osman asked, looking around.

  The road was packed with traffic and the patrol car’s lights flashed a few times to clear a path.

  ‘Through it and out the other side,’ Birna said.

  ‘So where are we going? I would like to see Steinunn. Is it not possible to meet her?’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ Birna said in a tone that was both apologetic and firm. ‘Steinunn is very busy right now and sends her kindest regards. She said she regrets that your visit couldn’t be longer.’

  ‘I see,’ Osman replied. ‘She feels she made a mistake in asking me here and I guess she
’s thinking of the headlines?’

  Birna weighed her words for a moment.

  ‘Yeah. That’s about it,’ she said.

  ‘I’m now an embarrassment rather than a welcome guest,’ he said with a touch of bitterness.

  Ívar Laxdal muttered into his communicator and the patrol car peeled off as they approached Hafnarfjörður. At the next intersection a pair of motorcycles swung onto the road and flanked the Volvo through the traffic, escorting it past roundabouts with barely a slackening of pace, and out onto the main road again. They overtook everything on the road, and this time Gunna shut her eyes in spite of Ívar Laxdal’s skill at the wheel and the blue lights that flashed in the gathering gloom with snowflakes spinning in the beams of the Volvo’s headlights.

  ‘Where are we?’ Osman asked as the two motorcycles fell back and Ívar Laxdal took the suburban streets at a more sedate pace, pulling up on the tarmac gap between the ends of two terraces.

  ‘This is Keflavík,’ Gunna said, as nobody else seemed inclined to answer him. ‘The airport is just over there,’ she added needlessly as the sound of an aeroplane circling to land could be heard.

  ‘Here we are,’ Ívar Laxdal said. ‘Your place for tonight. It looks like a jail, but it’s not, and it’s comfortable inside. I’ll be back early tomorrow, and until then Steingrímur and some of his boys will be watching over you.’

  Valgeir ate his curried chicken in near silence while Skúli fed Markús, and Dagga tried to have a conversation with the cousin she’d rarely had much contact with.

  ‘Why did you ask him here?’ she hissed to Skúli as Valgeir disappeared to the bathroom.

  ‘I told you, he’s had a rough time. He needs some support.’

  ‘Who was this person? Do you know?’

  ‘Not really. It’s all to do with Osman. Valgeir got unlucky, I guess, and got himself tangled up in all this.’

  They fell silent as Valgeir reappeared. His eyes were red and he was unable to hide having spent five minutes of solitude in tears behind the locked door.

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ he said in a thick voice. ‘I’m shit company. Can you call me a cab?’

  ‘Sure. Or one of us can drive you back to the hotel?’

  Valgeir shook his head.

  ‘Just get me a cab,’ he said and dropped heavily into one of the kitchen chairs.

  Dagga went to find her phone and Skúli handed Valgeir a mug.

  ‘You’ve got time for coffee, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yeah. I suppose,’ he said as Skúli poured. ‘Sorry, Skúli. I’m feeling lousy. I just want to crawl into bed for a few hours and then get the bus for my flight in the morning.’

  ‘You know who this woman is?’ Skúli asked in an undertone, leaning forward over the table.

  ‘Nope. Not a clue. I just knew her as Astrid Szabo, which you can bet isn’t her real name. We communicated mainly through social media and her profile has vanished. Not blocked, completely gone, and her phone number is out of use.’

  ‘Where did you meet?’

  ‘Hotels. I don’t know exactly where she lives, or lived. She said it was a boring suburb where nothing ever happens.’

  ‘So you don’t have anything?’

  ‘Not a clue. I don’t even have a picture of her. Just the image in my head of her face, and the fact that her German is flawless enough for her to be a native, although for all I know she could be from anywhere.’

  He sipped his coffee. For a second Skúli was tempted to put out a comforting hand, but he held back.

  ‘You know, Skúli? I really thought I’d hit the jackpot with her, absolutely won the Eurozillions. She’s pretty and fantastically smart, way smarter than I am,’ he said and sighed. ‘I wonder if I’ll ever see her again, and what I’d have to say to her?’

  Gunna shut the door behind her, kicked off her boots and put the security chain in place.

  ‘Gunnhildur, what is this place?’

  ‘Someone’s apartment. I guess it’s used for short-term lets for tourists. I imagine Ívar booked it online.’

  The flat was warm, but minimally furnished in a way that made it feel cool. Gunna had the feeling that nobody ever lived here any more, that this place had become one of the many used solely for a night or two by travellers passing through.

  She opened cupboards and the fridge to find that milk and a couple of pizzas had been provided, then she switched on the oven.

  ‘Quick and easy dinner tonight,’ she said, turning to see that Osman was still wrapped in his coat, hands in his pockets. He sat at the table in silence as Gunna prepared their meal, shaking off his coat and looking morose while Gunna shook salad from a bag, squeezed a sachet of dressing over it and took the pizzas from the oven.

  ‘Help yourself,’ she said, slicing each pizza into six. ‘They’ve even left us a bottle of wine if you’d like a glass.’

  Osman chewed pizza and nodded. Gunna opened the bottle and filled one glass for him, half a glass for herself.

  ‘Our last night together,’ Osman said with the first glimmer of a smile she had seen since the conversation with Luc in Akranes a few hours before.

  ‘It is,’ Gunna said, raising her glass to clink against his. ‘It’s been interesting, and a little crazy, so I won’t be sorry to go back to normal duties again.’

  ‘And to your . . . boyfriend? Husband, or whatever you refer to him as?’

  ‘Of course. I think this is the longest we’ve been apart, so it goes without saying that I’m looking forward to seeing him again, and my children, and the grandchildren.’

  ‘You are fortunate. You have a family around you. I have nothing like that any longer.’

  ‘So what was your decision, if you don’t mind my asking? Are you going to accept Luc’s offer?’

  Osman shrugged, drained his glass and held it out for Gunna to refill.

  ‘I have no choice. Kerkhoeve is quite right. There are more people who want me dead than I can stay away from, so I either accept his terms or the rest of my life will short and probably extremely uncomfortable. Coming to this place was an attempt to disappear from sight, but the secret was out before I even got here.’

  ‘You mean there are people you can’t trust?’

  ‘They are everywhere,’ he said gravely, ‘but they don’t wear a badge, so I can’t be sure who is trustworthy and who isn’t. Except you, naturally. You are honest. I can feel that in my bones.’

  ‘And Luc?’ Gunna asked, ignoring the compliment. ‘Are you sure you can trust him?’

  ‘Kerkhoeve is someone I can rely on. I won’t say trust. But I can rely on being kept safe for as long as I am useful to him. I will have to live in a cage, though. Everything I do or say will be watched and recorded, until I have told him everything I can give, and then . . . Then I don’t know.’

  ‘A new identity?’

  ‘It’s possible. Somewhere far away.’ There was a hopeful look in his eyes. ‘Or maybe by then everyone will have forgotten all about this.’

  ‘You told me before that these things are never forgotten.’

  ‘You’re right. There are places I’ll never be able to go, people I’ll never see again, including most of my relatives. Being seen with them would put them in danger.’

  Gunna picked up the last piece of pizza and bit into it.

  ‘Tell me,’ she said, ‘between ourselves. This swindle that Luc talked about. Did you do it?’

  Osman sat back and frowned. His eyes sparkled with an anger deep inside.

  ‘Swindle? No.’

  ‘So what happened? Can you tell me? So I know what kind of a man I’ve spent the last week with.’

  ‘If you think you can believe me, then I will tell you.’ He sighed and was silent for a moment as he collected his thoughts. ‘You understand that I don’t know the whole story myself,’ he said at last. ‘Some of this is a mystery to me as well.’

  ‘Go on,’ Gunna said, finishing the last of the pizza and sipping her wine.

  ‘There w
ere two shipments, two days apart.’

  ‘Can I ask what was in the shipments?’

  Osman smiled. ‘Medicines, a whole variety of drugs, mostly antibiotics. But also ammunition, thousands of rounds of small arms ammunition, and drones. These eyes in the sky are becoming very sought after. So, from your point of view, some good and some bad.’

  ‘Understood.’

  ‘The first shipment was warned off, diverted. The plan was to bring it up the beach in the south. It’s better there as the road is near the shore, but there aren’t many places where it’s possible to land unseen, as most of that coast is inhabited. In the end, they went to the backup plan, a landing place further north. It’s more difficult there as the coastline’s rocky, with mountains and bad roads, but fewer people and less chance of being seen.’

  ‘And they were able to land?’

  ‘The first one. The larger, second shipment was stolen.’

  ‘Do you know who took it?’

  ‘I can only guess, but it was cleverly done. The boats were intercepted offshore and simply taken. The men on board were lucky in that they were only beaten and thrown in the water, so they were able to swim to shore. But the goods were gone and the group that was due to take delivery never saw anything. They claimed we had sold the same goods to two rival militias. These people don’t take kindly to being wronged. It’s a matter of pride for them to seek revenge if they’ve been wronged, and that’s what they want to do.’

  ‘So someone robbed them, and you get the blame?’

  Ana trudged through the scattering of powder snow.

  The apartment had been left clean and tidy, with nothing left behind that could raise any suspicion. She had searched the place with care, just in case Michel had hidden a weapon somewhere, but there was nothing.

  She left the key on the kitchen counter, along with a note thanking the owner for a pleasant stay and a promise to leave a positive rating on the letting website.

  A taxi took her to the bus station and she ate a solid meal at the cafeteria as she waited, killing time, watching people coming and going, deciding that the majority of them were tourists in their thick, bright thermal coats and heavy walking boots.

  Nobody took any notice of the woman in a long brown overcoat who sipped coffee after her meal and leafed through a local newspaper, pausing as the face of a man with deep brown eyes and a black beard appeared across half a page.