Meltwater

by Michael Ridpath

  ‘They might have done. More likely the murderer took away the murder weapon.’

  The three of them went back into the church. It took the pastor a couple of minutes before he spotted it. ‘A candlestick.’ He pointed to one on a small table on one side of the entrance. It was made of brass and was about eighteen inches high. Its partner on the other side had gone, although the candle was lying in its place. The pastor reached out his hand to pick it up.

  ‘Don’t!’ said Magnus sharply. ‘This is a crime scene. Tidying up is not allowed.’

  ‘Yes,’ said the pastor. ‘Yes, of course. I’m sorry.’ He shook his head and took a deep breath. ‘I liked Ásta. She was a good woman. A really good woman.’ He glanced at the figure still lying there in front of the altar. A photographer was snapping away, and Edda and one of her colleagues were crouched down near the body in their white forensic overalls, tweezers at the ready. The pathologist hadn’t arrived yet.

  ‘Yes, she was,’ said Magnus. ‘We’ll get the candlestick photographed. Thank you, Egill. We’ll be back with more questions later.’

  The pastor left with one last glance at Ásta’s body.

  ‘All right,’ said Baldur. ‘It looks as if she was murdered between shortly after nine and twelve-thirty last night. She probably came into the church to pray. Someone sneaked up behind her and whacked her over the head with a candlestick, taking it away with him. Why, we don’t know yet, but I would not be at all surprised if it had something to do with Freeflow.’

  ‘Did you think the pastor was telling us the whole truth?’ asked Magnus. ‘About what Ásta discussed with him?’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ said Baldur. ‘It didn’t quite feel right, did it? We should try him again, later on today. Maybe when we have some more information.’

  ‘You know she called me yesterday?’ Magnus said. ‘On my cell phone. I missed it and when I called her back she said it was nothing.’ He sighed. ‘It clearly wasn’t.’

  ‘Shouldn’t have missed it,’ said Baldur.

  It was a statement of fact. If Magnus had picked up the call and given Ásta the chance to say what she wanted to say when she wanted to say it, maybe she would still be alive. Maybe.

  ‘How do you want to do this?’ Magnus asked.

  ‘I’ll lead this investigation,’ Baldur said. ‘But we’ll work jointly. I’m sure we’ll find a link to Freeflow. Maybe you should get over there and see if you can find out what that is?’

  ‘OK. Will you do the press conference at nine-thirty?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll handle that,’ said Baldur. ‘And I’ll brief Thorkell. We could use some more officers here. Maybe I can borrow a couple of detectives from Narcotics.’

  Magnus recognized Gudmundur, the officer inside the patrol car parked opposite the yellow house on Thórsgata. ‘I thought you had a buddy out here with you?’

  ‘He’s gone for a stroll in Lokastígur round the back,’ said the constable.

  ‘Good idea. Seen anything?’

  ‘Nothing this morning.’

  ‘Did you hear about Ásta, the priest?’

  ‘Yes, I did, over the radio. You just come from there?’

  Magnus nodded. ‘You were here yesterday, weren’t you?’

  ‘I was.’ The constable pulled out a notebook. ‘She arrived 9:12. Left the house with Franz at about 9:46. Returned with him with grocery bags at 10:32. Came outside on the street at 12:10. Walked a short distance from the house and made a quick phone call.’

  That would be her call to Magnus.

  ‘When did she leave?’

  ‘Nineteen-twenty-six.’

  ‘Anyone follow her?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  The constable thought about it. ‘Not absolutely sure. If another car had driven up the road half a minute after she left, I wouldn’t have made the connection. But I didn’t see anyone hanging around watching, and neither did my partner. We have been checking.’

  Full marks for honesty.

  ‘What about other people coming and going?’

  The constable checked his notes. ‘Dúddi arrived 10:14. Viktor arrived 20:06. Left 20:53. Pizza delivery 21:28. Dúddi left 23:37.’

  ‘Nothing else? No one sneak out in the middle of the night?’

  ‘Not that we saw.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Árni joined them. ‘OK, I’ll talk to Erika and Franz,’ Magnus said to him. ‘You take the others.’

  Zivah answered the door. Magnus could tell from the expression on her face they hadn’t heard.

  There were five of them there: Erika, Dieter, Zivah, Franz and Dúddi. They seemed to be working hard. Computers on, coffee cups and cans of Red Bull strewn everywhere; the smell had grown stronger. It was a mixture of socks, sweat and electrical equipment.

  Magnus stood in the centre of the room.

  ‘I’ve got some news,’ he said. They all turned to look at him; Franz and Dieter took off the headphones they were wearing. ‘Bad news. Ásta was murdered this morning.’

  There was a cry from Zivah. Erika looked shocked, Dúddi and Franz stunned, Dieter impassive.

  ‘We found her this morning in the church near her home in Grafarholt. It’s a suburb to the east of Reykjavík. She had been hit over the head, probably when she was praying some time last night, we think between nine and midnight. Now, as I’m sure you can understand, Árni and I will need to ask you yet more questions.’

  There were a couple of grunts of assent.

  ‘I’ll start with Erika, and Árni with Dúddi,’ Magnus said. ‘Erika, let’s sit at the kitchen table.’

  They moved over there, Erika in a daze.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ she said. ‘Did you see her?’

  ‘I saw her dead body,’ Magnus said. ‘I’ve just come from there.’

  ‘And you don’t know who did it?’

  Magnus shook his head. ‘We don’t even know if her death is connected to Freeflow, but that seems a good working assumption.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Erika. She looked very pale. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t quite take it in. I’ve seen death before, in Africa. That was worse in a way, much worse, but at least then you knew who the bad guys were.’

  ‘And now we don’t?’

  ‘Now we don’t,’ said Erika. ‘I didn’t know her well, but I liked Ásta. She believed in things, you know? Not just God and Jesus. But truth. Honesty. Transparency.’

  ‘The kind of things you believe in?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Erika. ‘She was a good kid.’ She took a deep breath. ‘OK. What do you want to know?’

  ‘First of all, where were you between, say, seven and one a.m. last night?’

  Erika smiled feebly. ‘A couple of days ago I would have been offended that you suspected me. Now, I’m getting used to it.’

  Magnus shrugged and gave her a quick smile of encouragement.

  ‘All right. I was here all evening, and I mean here, downstairs. I went to bed about one-thirty.’

  ‘Working?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘What about the others?’

  ‘The same. We ordered pizza in about nine-thirty, I’d say. Again. Actually, I just ate a salad out of the refrigerator. Dúddi left to go home about eleven. Zivah probably went to bed about then. Franz went to bed some time before me, Dieter was still working when I finished.’

  ‘And no one left the house at any time during the evening?’

  ‘Apart from Ásta. She left about seven, maybe? Viktor dropped in for half an hour at about eight.’

  So, it didn’t look as if anyone had sneaked out of the house past the patrol car.

  ‘What can you tell me about the connections between Ásta and the other members of the Freeflow team?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Erika. ‘Everyone seemed to like her. I was doubtful about her usefulness at first, but she was good to have around. She added a layer of calm and sanity to the place. And she dealt with a lot of the domestic arrangements so the rest of
us could concentrate on the video production.’

  ‘Did anyone know her before she showed up here?’

  ‘No. Apart from Viktor, of course. I think he’s her uncle. She became interested in Freeflow when she saw me on TV here in November. She had talked to Viktor about us and I am pretty sure he was the one who got in touch with her when he knew we were coming to Iceland.’

  ‘What about Nico?’

  ‘Who knows about Nico?’ Erika said bitterly.

  Magnus raised his eyebrows.

  ‘I don’t think Nico had met her until he arrived here on Sunday to set things up. I know he had shown her the Gaza video before I arrived Monday.’

  ‘Do you think there is any way she might have discovered his links to Tretto?’

  Erika shrugged. ‘Not that I know of. But she could have done, I suppose. I’m not sure how.’

  ‘Did she have any arguments with any of the team at Freeflow?’

  ‘No, not that I noticed.’

  ‘Anyone she was particularly close to?’

  ‘No. Apart from Viktor, of course. As I said, everyone here seemed to like her . . .’

  Magnus could tell an idea had struck Erika. ‘Yes?’ He gave her an encouraging smile.

  She frowned. ‘It may be nothing, but the first time I met her, when she was driving me in from the airport, she said something about how she might have a leak for Freeflow.’

  Magnus leaned forward. ‘Did she say what it was?’

  ‘I can’t remember. I think I asked her whether it had anything to do with the Icelandic banks. We published Ódinsbanki’s loan book last year. She said it didn’t. Then we changed the subject.’

  ‘Weren’t you curious?’

  Erika smiled. ‘You would be amazed how many people tell me they have a secret they want Freeflow to publish. It’s usually a waste of time. I had only just met Ásta. I think if she told me that now, I would take her more seriously.’

  ‘And she hasn’t given Freeflow anything?’

  ‘No. Or at least not that I know of. We get stuff submitted all the time. To be honest, I haven’t paid much attention to the new stuff over the last few days. I’ll check.’

  ‘Please do,’ said Magnus. ‘One other question I’ve been meaning to ask. Has Freeflow ever published or considered publishing anything to do with the Skull and Bones society?’

  Erika’s eyes widened ‘At Yale?’

  Magnus nodded.

  ‘No,’ said Erika. ‘You think it might be responsible for all this?’

  Magnus could almost see Erika latching on to Árni’s conspiracy theory. ‘No. Not unless you were about to publish something explosive. It’s just you mentioned fraternities in US universities.’

  Erika shook her head. ‘Nothing on the Skull and Bones, more’s the pity.’

  ‘One last thing. We got an artist to do an impression of the guy who attacked you on Wednesday.’ He took it out of his jacket pocket. ‘What do you think?’

  Erika. ‘It’s a good likeness. Very good. You know . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He reminds me of someone.’

  ‘Who?’

  Erika stared at the picture and shook her head. ‘No. No, I can’t think. I’m imagining it.’

  ‘Are you sure? If you do get some inspiration, let me know.’

  ‘I will. But, as I say, I’m pretty sure I’m imagining it. Have you found him yet?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Magnus replied.

  ‘Well, I wish you would hurry up,’ said Erika. ‘Before anyone else gets killed.’

  Franz confirmed Erika’s story about who was in the house at what times the previous evening.

  ‘You went out with Ásta yesterday morning, didn’t you?’ Magnus said.

  ‘Yeah. We went to the little store around the corner. What’s it called, Krambud?’

  ‘Krambúd,’ Magnus said, giving it the correct Icelandic pronunciation.

  ‘Yeah, Krambúd. Bought groceries for the house; there was too much for her to carry by herself.’

  ‘How did she seem?’

  ‘Thoughtful. Wrapped up in herself, you know?’ Franz said. ‘I mean, I wasn’t really surprised. There’s a lot of tension in the house and Nico did die four days ago.’

  ‘What did she talk about?’

  ‘I tried to make conversation. We spoke about the editing I was doing. The volcano. She had seen more of the news on that than I had.’

  ‘Did you see anything strange? Anyone strange?’

  Franz shook his head.

  ‘And you’ve no idea why she was preoccupied?’

  Franz hesitated. Magnus waited.

  ‘Might have something to do with Zivah,’ Franz said. ‘They came down the stairs together just before we went shopping. I think Zivah had been crying.’

  Zivah was crying still. In fact she was almost hysterical.

  ‘Ásta was such a good woman,’ Zivah sobbed. ‘I can’t believe they killed her. They’ll kill all of us. I know they will.’

  ‘We’ll find them,’ Magnus said. ‘Just stay indoors here and you’ll be safe.’

  ‘Have you any idea who is doing this?’ Zivah asked.

  ‘We have a few ideas,’ Magnus said. ‘Do you?’

  ‘I think it’s the Israelis. Mossad. Ásta said I was wrong, but I’m pretty sure I’m right. I’ve got to get out of here.’

  ‘Ásta said you were wrong?’

  ‘Yes,’ Zivah said. ‘I told her how scared I was of them and she told me not to be. She said she knew it wasn’t the Israelis.’

  ‘She knew?’ Magnus repeated.

  ‘Yes,’ said Zivah. ‘She sounded positive. Like it wasn’t just speculation.’

  ‘Did she give you any idea who she thought was responsible?’

  Zivah shook her head. Magnus questioned her for a few more minutes and then checked with Árni. Dúddi and Dieter had had nothing much more to add.

  It was clear to Magnus that Ásta knew something, something that had suggested to her who was trying to stop Freeflow.

  But what?

  Magnus and Árni left the house and checked with Gudmundur in the police car outside.

  ‘Your friend is here,’ the constable said, nodding down the street.

  Magnus turned and saw a figure sitting on the bench reading a newspaper.

  Tom Bryant.

  Magnus sent Árni back to the station and went down the road to meet him. Bryant lowered his Tribune and smiled at Magnus. ‘Want a lift?’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  BRYANT DROVE MAGNUS up to the Pearl, the globular exhibition building set atop geothermal hot-water tanks on a low hill overlooking the city. It was still early; there were few cars in the parking lot. They sat in the car, staring out over the scrappy trees that surrounded the hill towards the jumble of brightly coloured toy houses of Thingholt. In the foreground commuter aeroplanes manoeuvred around the taxiways of Reykjavík City Airport. It was a clear, breezy day – no sign of any ash.

  ‘Do you have some questions for me?’ Bryant asked.

  ‘You’ve studied Freeflow?’ Magnus asked.

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Who do you think hates it enough to kill?’

  ‘The Zimbabwe government. The Italian mafia. Maybe some individuals who have been bruised along the way. And the Israelis. Perhaps.’

  ‘Zimbabwe!’ cried Magnus. ‘Not another goddamned country. At least we don’t have any black suspects.’

  ‘They could pay white guys,’ Bryant said.

  ‘Don’t,’ said Magnus. ‘What about the Gruppo Cavour scandal? Is that real?’

  ‘That one will run and run,’ said Bryant. ‘It will keep the Italian courts busy for years. The key thing there is that powerful people in Italy believe there is more to come out from Freeflow. Implicating other politicians beyond Tretto.’

  ‘So they might be trying to shut down Freeflow before it publishes?’

  ‘Could be.’

  ‘Did you know that Nico Andreose was a plant
? He was working for Tretto all along.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘You didn’t want me to. You were very specific: no sharing of information.’

  Magnus sighed. ‘OK. Is there anything else you know?’

  Bryant didn’t answer at first. Over Reykjavík a little black cloud was gathering itself, ready to dump water on to the Hallgrímskirkja below.

  ‘That depends,’ the agent said at last.

  ‘On what?’

  ‘On what Freeflow is working on now.’

  ‘I can’t tell you that.’

  ‘But you know?’

  Magnus nodded. ‘I know.’

  ‘OK,’ said Bryant. ‘We have information that there is a videotape floating around. A video of the shooting of some UN workers in Gaza in January 2009.’

  ‘Is there?’

  ‘Yes there is. What we don’t know is whether this video has found its way to Freeflow. And whether Freeflow is planning to publish it in the next few days. That would be very useful information to have.’

  ‘I imagine it would.’

  ‘Come on, Magnus, help me out here. I’ve helped you.’

  ‘Not very much.’

  Bryant was silent. The little black cloud a mile away opened up, dropping a grey curtain of rain on to the town below.

  ‘OK,’ Bryant said. ‘We believe it’s a fake.’

  ‘What, so Tamara Wilton and the others weren’t really killed?’ Magnus knew that he was more or less admitting that Bryant was on the right track.

  ‘Have you seen it?’

  Magnus nodded. ‘It didn’t look fake to me.’

  ‘It wouldn’t,’ Bryant said. ‘But our information is that it’s not the actual video which is fake. It’s the audio.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Magnus.

  ‘Would that make a difference?’

  ‘Yes,’ Magnus said. ‘Yes, it would.’ He thought about the images. Part of what had made them so disturbing, a big part, was the callousness of the crew. And that had only come across in the words they had spoken, or the translation Erika had given him of the Hebrew, and the laughter, the smug chuckles. What if the soldiers had actually been discussing how they were sure they were firing at an anti-tank crew? Or even if they had said nothing?

  The video was still pretty disturbing, but the incident would be easier to dismiss as part of the confusion of war. Possibly a downgrade from ‘war crime’ to ‘war accident’. That would be an important distinction.