Cold Breath (Gunnhildur Mystery Book 7)

by Quentin Bates

  ‘It feels wrong, totally wrong,’ Gunna said. ‘This will be hanging over me for ever. Suppose the press get a sniff of it? Or some future government? I think I’d be happier if there were an inquiry and it was all out in the open, whatever the consequences.’

  ‘I don’t know what I can tell you, except that there’s no appetite for an inquiry.’

  ‘And the two dead men? Someone knew they were here. Supposing their families decide to start digging into what happened to them? How can I be sure there won’t be a knock on the door one day?’

  ‘The simple answer is that you can’t. But there’s not going to be an inquiry. If there were to be one, there’s no doubt that you’d be exonerated. I wish I could put your mind at rest, but I’m not sure I can.’

  ‘You said right at the start that this assignment was a poisoned chalice, and you were absolutely right. I’m going to be like Osman, constantly looking over my shoulder from now on,’ she said, punching a fist into the palm of her other hand. ‘Do we know who’s replacing Steinunn?’

  ‘Steinar Jakobsson, as far as I know. A safe pair of hands, nothing flashy, zero imagination, does what the PM tells him to do.’

  ‘Wonderful. Another lawyer running the show.’ Gunna pulled the handle and felt the door open. ‘Come on. Steini will be happy to see an old shipmate. That’s his van there, so he must be home, but I don’t know who that yellow Polo next to it belongs to.’

  Gunna pushed open the front door, stamped her feet and kicked off her boots.

  ‘Hello! Does anyone live here?’ she called out, opening the inner door and stopping in the doorway as Steini looked up and grinned from where he sat at the table under the kitchen window, a bowl of cereal in his hands and yesterday’s newspaper in front of him.

  ‘Hey! Welcome home, and the Big Man as well,’ Steini said with a delighted look on his face, standing up and spreading his arms to hug Gunna. She buried her face in his neck and closed her eyes, suddenly feeling deeply tired.

  He squeezed her tight and she felt the Glock pressed into her side.

  ‘What’s . . . ?’ he asked, loosening his embrace.

  ‘Shh,’ she said, pulling him tight against her. ‘Don’t ask.’

  ‘I had no idea you were coming back today,’ he said and held out a hand for Ívar Laxdal to crush.

  ‘So, how did it all go? Operation mystery all over?’ Steini asked, banging mugs onto the table and pouring coffee from a Thermos. ‘You want some breakfast? I boiled a couple of eggs, and there’s the usual stuff on the table,’ he said, sweeping the newspapers into a pile.

  ‘It’s all over,’ Ívar Laxdal confirmed.

  ‘And the boat’s on a pontoon in Akranes,’ Gunna added.

  ‘Akranes? What? When did that happen?’

  Gunna looked at Ívar Laxdal. ‘Two nights ago, was it? Or three?’

  ‘Whichever. It was blowing like hell, at any rate,’ he growled, a hand clasped around a thick mug. ‘How’s tricks, Steini? Keeping busy?’ he asked, quickly steering the conversation away from what he and Gunna had been doing for the last week.

  ‘Ach. There’s always stuff to keep a man occupied. I promised I’d go and look over an engine down at the quay today, an overheating Yanmar. Good engine, runs perfectly at tickover, but gives trouble at high revs.’

  Gunna cracked an egg and buttered herself a couple of slices of bread as Steini and Ívar Laxdal talked engines.

  ‘By the way, you were going to tell me about that rather handsome boat of yours,’ he said. ‘Something of an antique, isn’t it?’

  ‘The boat?’ Gunna said, taken by surprise. ‘It was my dad’s boat years ago. The old man and I used to go lumpfish netting in the spring, and he always said it was a shame it was too small to rig for shrimping. Anyway, when he died, neither of my brothers were interested, so it was sold.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Gísli heard it was up for sale last year. It was a bit of a mess and had no fishing licence, so it wasn’t expensive, pretty much just scrap value, so we paid the asking price, brought it down here and it’s been tied up in Vogar. Steini and Gísli have been working on it, and it was on the pontoon in Reykjavík because someone Gísli knows was fitting the new radar. We were going to take it over to Akranes last weekend, but now we’ve already done the delivery trip.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind doing some lumpfish netting if we get a chance,’ Steini said wistfully.

  ‘Well, you’re almost too late for this season,’ Ívar Laxdal said.

  ‘There’s always next year if you feel like coming along as crew,’ Gunna said through a mouthful of egg and black bread. ‘By the way, Steini, the yellow car outside, is that Laufey’s friend’s?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Steini said after a pause. ‘Nice girl. Shy.’

  ‘Someone from university?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I haven’t been here much, so I’ve hardly seen them.’

  Ívar Laxdal drained his mug.

  ‘And with that, I have to be going,’ he said, turning serious. ‘I don’t expect to see you at Hverfisgata today, Gunnhildur. Tomorrow would be fine.’

  ‘I was hoping for after the weekend, considering it’s been a pretty full-on few days, however many it’s been. I’ve lost track.’

  ‘It’s been a week,’ Ívar Laxdal said and got to his feet. ‘Can you come in for a debriefing with Birna and Úlfur tomorrow afternoon? Once we’ve done that, I don’t expect to see you until next week. How’s that?’

  ‘Sure. And you can give me a lift to Einholt. My car’s still in Steinunn’s garage.’

  Gunna went to the door with him.

  ‘Not a word to anyone, not that I have to spell that out to you,’ he said in the doorway.

  ‘Not a word,’ Gunna assured him, and he waved once as he stalked over to his car.

  Steini was making himself sandwiches when she returned to the kitchen and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

  ‘It’s good to be back.’

  ‘Tough week?’

  ‘Yep. But it’s all a big secret, so I can’t tell you anything about it.’

  *

  Osman was the first off the aircraft, escorted out of the cabin ahead of the other passengers, with Luc Kerkhoeve holding him firmly by the elbow. Catching up with them or seeing who was there to collect them wasn’t an option, but Ana was satisfied that there would be no great obstacles to picking up his trail, although it appeared likely that Osman would be watched carefully around the clock.

  She guessed that Iceland had been anxious to relieve itself of this troublesome visitor, and Commander Kerkhoeve had engineered some deal by which he had a hold over the fugitive.

  Ana lifted her collar high, shouldered her bag and, without a backward glance, followed the line of people leaving the aircraft. Once she was clear of the walkway and following the signs towards baggage reclaim, she dawdled, kneeling to tie a bootlace, checking her phone, waiting for Valgeir to overtake her.

  When he walked past, still in a daze, she followed him at a discreet distance until he stood at the carousel, looking around like an owl blinking in the daylight.

  Ana took a position at the far end, where she could watch him without being seen, but he was again too engrossed in his phone to notice her, only occasionally looking up to see if his luggage was on the way.

  To Ana’s relief, her case was one of the first to appear. She pulled off the puffin cap and stuffed it into a pocket, extended her suitcase handle and marched towards the exit.

  She took a deep breath, walked over to where Valgeir stood, wrapped in his thoughts, and touched his elbow.

  ‘Hello, Valgeir,’ she said, and he swung his head to look at her. His jaw dropped as he realized who was standing at his side with a broad smile.

  He stood frozen to the spot and stared, first with incomprehension on his face, turning slowly to fear.

  ‘Astrid?’ he croaked.

  ‘Shh, Valgeir,’ Ana said, putting out a hand and touching his lips with one finger. ‘I
just wanted to say sorry. It was nothing personal. And goodbye,’ she added, turning and striding smartly to the exit, her case bumping at her heels, before Valgeir could decide whether to say anything or keep quiet for ever.

  Gunna looked up, hearing a door squeak open, and saw a slim young woman appear in the doorway, with long fair hair hanging loose; it hid most of her face, but not the look of surprise on it.

  ‘Er, hi,’ the young woman said diffidently. ‘I’m Ingunn. You must be Gunna? I’ve heard a lot about you.’

  ‘I am,’ Gunna said with a quizzical look, and the girl looked awkward.

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry . . . I was just on my way to . . .’

  The bathroom door swung shut behind her.

  ‘That’s Laufey’s friend?’ Gunna asked.

  ‘That’s her.’

  Steini put his sandwich box into a carrier bag, added an apple and scratched his head.

  ‘Not taking coffee?’

  ‘No, Jói makes coffee on the boat,’ he said, and then fell silent as Ingunn made a fleeting appearance again, tiptoeing barefoot as she tripped silently back down the passage.

  ‘What’s Laufey’s friend like?’

  He pursed his lips in thought.

  ‘Not sure. Quiet as a mouse, hardly says a word.’

  ‘Well,’ Gunna yawned, ‘I might be asleep by the time Laufey wakes up, so there’s a chance I could miss them both. It’s been a long week and I could easily sleep for a whole day.’

  ‘I’ll wake you up when I get back. Shouldn’t be all that long.’

  He leaned down, squeezed her hand and was gone. The front door banged shut behind him and she could hear his pickup mutter into life outside. The house seemed eerily quiet and Gunna realized that, out of the habit she had acquired over the last few days, she was still wearing her fleece jacket zipped halfway up.

  She took it off, threw it over the back of a chair and took the Glock from its holster, telling herself she should have put the weapon firmly in Ívar Laxdal’s hands before he left for Reykjavík.

  ‘Mum, what the hell are you wearing?’

  Gunna turned to see Laufey behind her, a questioning frown on her face.

  ‘Firearms duties, sweetheart,’ Gunna said. ‘The first and last time. How are you? How’s it been without the old lady under your feet?’

  ‘Y’know. Peaceful. Very quiet.’

  ‘So, anything happened while I’ve been away?’

  ‘Nope. Gísli’s at sea. Drífa’s fine, except that Kjartan’s teething. We went over there yesterday to give her a bit of a break.’

  ‘You and Steini?’

  ‘Me and Ingunn.’

  The blonde girl appeared behind Laufey, in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt but barefoot, and placed a hand on Laufey’s shoulder.

  ‘Is there something happening here that I ought to know about?’ Gunna said, eyeing the two of them standing close together.

  ‘Mum!’ Laufey exploded as the frown deepened across her freckled face. ‘Can’t you take off your detective’s hat, stop being so suspicious and just be off duty for five minutes?’ She glanced at the Glock, still in Gunna’s hand. ‘And are you going to put that bazooka away?’

  Gunna sighed and felt a rush of fatigue, the aftermath of the last week’s tension coming to an end.

  ‘Sorry, sweetheart. I can’t tell you how tough the last few days have been.’ She opened one of the kitchen drawers, put the pistol inside and shut it, then unclipped the holster, slipping it from her shoulders with relief and draping it over her jacket on the chair. ‘That’s better. Never again.’

  Acknowledgements

  I’m particularly grateful to Lilja Sigurðardóttir for allowing me to borrow her human gorilla Rikki the Sponge. But if you want to know where Rikki’s nickname comes from, you’ll have to read Lilja’s outstanding Reykjavík Noir series.

  Thanks to many friends in Iceland, especially my cohort of informers, Bylgja, Lúlli and Gummi, who are always ready to come up with answers to the strangest questions.

  Much love to the magnificent Elves . . .