‘Who’s this?’ whispered Marion, stopping behind the two women.
‘Christ knows,’ said Caroline with a groan, looking for an escape route between the barracks buildings, but immediately giving it up as a bad idea. ‘I’ve never seen them before.’
‘What’s happening?’ asked Joan, petrified.
The men were wearing air-force uniforms and from his insignia Marion guessed the leader was some sort of officer. He was short and powerfully built, with a crew cut and a stern expression. The other two looked equally stern but stayed in the background; Marion assumed these two were ordinary airmen. All three were armed with revolvers at their belts. The airmen were also carrying automatic rifles.
‘May I ask what you were doing in the barracks?’ said the officer.
Caroline bit back her initial impulse to ask what business it was of his. Instead she gave her name and rank. She also explained who Marion and Joan were, and said that the military police were helping Icelandic CID with their inquiry into a death on the base.
‘We had a meeting with a witness, Joan here,’ said Marion, ‘who we fear may be at risk. She knows who was responsible and –’
‘Joan has to file charges for aggravated domestic assault,’ chipped in Caroline. ‘I’m taking her to the hospital. She needs medical attention.’
‘Are you conducting this inquiry with full authorisation from Fleet Air Command, Sergeant?’ asked the officer, his face still expressionless.
‘There hasn’t been time for permission to come through yet,’ said Caroline. ‘May I ask who you are?’
‘Master Sergeant Roberts,’ said the officer. ‘Do you have the required authorisation to interview base personnel?’ he asked them again, glancing at Joan.
‘No, like I said, it hasn’t come through yet, sir,’ said Caroline. ‘What’s your unit, if I may –?’
‘I’m with 57th Fighter Squadron,’ said Roberts, and stepped up to Marion. ‘You’re from the Icelandic police?’
‘Yes.’
‘If I’m correctly informed, your request to conduct an inquiry on the base was refused, so authorisation is not in the pipeline, as your lady friend here seems to think. That’s bullshit. What are you two playing at?’
‘Playing at?’ said Marion.
‘Yes, Detective. What are you playing at?’
‘We tried to get the Defense Force to work with us,’ said Marion. ‘But you people refused all cooperation.’
‘Would you follow me, please?’ said Roberts. ‘I’ll have to ask you to surrender your weapon, Sergeant,’ he added to Caroline, then turned back to Marion. ‘I gather the Icelandic police don’t carry firearms.’
Caroline looked at Marion, who shrugged.
‘What about Joan?’ said Caroline. ‘She needs to see a doctor. She also needs protection from her husband. I can’t leave her.’
‘You have no say in the matter, Sergeant. My men will escort her to the hospital,’ said Roberts, indicating the two airmen accompanying him. ‘They’ll protect her.’
‘Protect her?’
‘Yes. You can rely on us.’
‘I want to go with her, sir,’ insisted Caroline. ‘To see everything’s OK.’
‘You’re coming with me, Sergeant,’ said Roberts. ‘You have no choice. She’ll be fine. She has no reason to be afraid.’
‘Where are you taking us?’ asked Caroline. ‘I don’t see why we need to go anywhere at all with you.’
‘You’re coming with me, Sergeant,’ repeated the officer, holding out his hand for Caroline’s gun.
She hesitated.
‘Your weapon!’ ordered Roberts.
Caroline made eye contact with Marion, who nodded. She took the pistol out of its holster and handed it over. Then she turned to Joan and told her to go with the men to the hospital. Joan protested but Caroline assured her she would be safe. The men escorted Joan to a military jeep parked a stone’s throw from the barracks, and Caroline walked along with her, reassuring her, telling her everything would be all right, nothing would happen to her and they would see each other again very soon.
‘There’s nothing we can do,’ said Caroline. ‘We simply have to trust these men.’
‘What’ll happen to you?’ asked Joan.
‘I’ll be OK,’ said Caroline. ‘I’ll see you later. I promise.’
She watched the jeep drive off down the street.
‘Follow me,’ ordered Roberts, leading the way to another jeep.
‘Where are you taking us, sir?’ asked Caroline as they headed in a westerly direction towards the airport runways.
‘You’ll see,’ replied Roberts.
‘If anything happens to Joan –’
‘Nothing’s going to happen to her. What do you think we are?’
‘How did you know where we were?’
‘It wasn’t hard to track you down. This isn’t a big area.’
‘Were you watching Joan’s apartment?’
Roberts didn’t answer.
‘Why? Because of Earl Jones?’
Still no response.
‘Do you know what happened in the hangar?’
‘You’d better be quiet, Sergeant.’
Caroline lost her temper. ‘Maybe you were with Jones?’
Roberts turned to her. ‘Do you think it was right to go behind the backs of your colleagues and friends in the military? To collaborate with these people’ – he jerked his head at Marion – ‘without reporting the fact? Doesn’t your part in all this seem rather irregular? What is it you want, Sergeant? You can hardly expect to continue your career in the military. In fact, you can forget all about that. And I advise you to keep your mouth shut from now on.’
Seeing that Caroline was poised to fly off the handle, Marion unobtrusively grabbed her hand, silently warning her to let it drop; there was no point quarrelling with this man. Hurt and angry, Caroline kept her eyes on the road ahead.
‘Where are you taking us?’ It was Marion’s turn to ask.
‘Here,’ said Roberts.
In front of them were two hangars currently under construction for the accommodation of F-16 fighters. They consisted of steel-frame skeletons with walls, roof and vast doors attached, but as yet no fittings, insulation or equipment inside. Roberts parked by one of the hangars and Marion and Caroline climbed out. He ordered them to follow him. Two guards were standing there, armed with rifles. Roberts opened a door in the side wall, ushered Marion and Caroline through, then closed the door behind them, remaining outside himself.
Inside it was cold and bare. Two powerful lamps hanging from the ceiling cast a harsh glare into every corner of the empty building. In the middle stood a tall, lean man, aged about fifty, dressed in khaki trousers and shirt, with a square jaw and a thick, greying crew cut. He had the air of a man who let little disturb his composure, and regarded them with small, weary eyes, as if he had far more pressing and important business to deal with. He neither greeted them nor introduced himself but came straight to the point.
‘What were you two doing in Hangar 885?’
‘Who are you?’ retorted Caroline, as she had to Roberts earlier.
‘I am in charge of security on the base.’
‘Are you in Military Intelligence?’
‘I repeat: what were you doing in Hangar 885?’
‘As a military police officer I can go where I like,’ said Caroline. ‘What do you mean by bringing us here? Who are you? And who’s Master Sergeant Roberts?’
‘A delegation will be sent to the base to look for me if I don’t report back soon,’ said Marion, which was not a complete lie. ‘I’m a detective with the Icelandic Criminal Investigation Department. My colleagues are aware I had business in the hangar. I don’t know if you’re Wilbur Cain or if you’re working for him, but the Icelandic police have his name. We gather he was acquainted with an Icelander called Kristvin. They were spotted together at a bar here called the Animal Locker, also known as the Zoo. We have reason to believe that Kristvin wa
s pushed off the scaffolding in Hangar 885. And we are now reasonably confident that a marine called Earl Jones was involved, so we would request that you deliver him into our custody. Caroline has been assisting us. That seems to be public knowledge now. We owe her a great debt of gratitude. If anything were to happen to the two of us – if our bodies were found smashed up in the lava field outside the base, for example – you should be aware that the information about Kristvin, Wilbur Cain, Earl Jones and Hangar 885 is on record.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’ asked the man.
‘I thought you ought to know,’ said Marion.
‘Do you think I give a damn what you have to say? How would you react if the FBI flew into Reykjavík and started interrogating people all over the place without obtaining permission? Would you welcome them with open arms? Would you think it was all fine and dandy if the FBI were running their own police investigation in Reykjavík? Wouldn’t you want to prevent it? Ask what was going on?’
‘But you people refused to cooperate!’
‘Do you think we give a shit if a cop like you starts threatening us? You’re on US territory. Your threats have no substance here.’ He turned to Caroline. ‘What I don’t understand is why you got involved in all this, Sergeant.’
‘The Icelandic police came to me for help, after all cooperation had been refused. I wanted … to find out what happened. I’m a police officer. That’s my job.’
‘Is it also your job to disobey your superior officers? The military police received orders, along with everyone else, that all inquiries about this particular case should be referred to the base authorities. I know for a fact that you received those orders. Why did you choose to ignore them?’
‘What are you hiding in the hangar?’ countered Caroline. ‘Why wouldn’t you just cooperate with the Icelandic police? What do you have to hide?’
‘What were you doing in Hangar 885?’ repeated the man. ‘What do you think we’re hiding? What exactly were you looking for?’
‘I’ve just told you,’ said Marion. ‘We believe that an Icelandic civilian employed by Icelandair was killed in there. And we now believe we know who was responsible.’
‘Earl Jones?’
‘Yes. The Icelander was on the base that night and we’ve established that he fell from a great height. The only place this could realistically have happened is in the hangar. He used to work there from time to time. Earl Jones is a security guard in the hangar, as we’ve learned.’
‘Why was this man killed?’
‘Jealousy. Revenge. A moment of insanity. Jones found out his wife had been cheating on him with Kristvin. Are you Wilbur Cain?’
‘Cain?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m not familiar with that name. My name’s Gates and I’m in Military Intelligence. Is that the only reason you entered the hangar?’
‘The only reason?’ said Caroline. ‘What do you mean? Isn’t that enough?’
‘Why don’t you just answer the question?’ said the man.
‘Do you really want to know?’ asked Marion.
‘I wasn’t talking to you.’
‘Do you want to know what we were looking for?’ Marion asked again, unabashed.
‘Marion …’ Caroline was afraid Marion was going to say too much.
The man studied Marion in silence. From his weary expression it was evident that he considered Marion a particularly tedious nuisance. At that moment the door opened and Master Sergeant Roberts appeared in the gap and gave the man a sign.
48
Billows of steam danced over the outdoor swimming pool before vanishing into the darkness. A bus drove down the street, a few passengers huddled by its windows. Three girls walked past, shrieking with laughter, but paid them no attention. Mensalder sat quietly in the car, rubbing his hands. Erlendur avoided putting any more pressure on him. He didn’t know what sort of mental struggle Mensalder was engaged in, but sensed it was far from easy for him to talk about Dagbjört. The minutes passed. Finally Mensalder seemed to pull himself together. With a heavy sigh he straightened up in his seat and met Erlendur’s eye.
‘I suppose this is what I’ve been dreading all along,’ he said. ‘This moment. When suspicion falls on me. I’ve always dreaded that. That it would happen one day and I’d be in deep trouble, with nothing to plead in my defence.’
‘I’m not with you.’
‘No, why should you be? I can hardly understand it myself. I never married, you know. Did Rósanna tell you that? I wanted to but I’ve never been very confident where women are concerned. I … then you get older and you’ve either wasted or messed up the few chances you had and find yourself on your own. And it had an effect on me, you know. What happened. She was so … lovely. So genuine. I sensed that as soon as I got talking to her. She showed an interest in me, thought it was exciting that I knew how to get my hands on all kinds of goods that were unobtainable, different, exotic and …’
Mensalder paused.
‘The thing is, I’d met someone else and that’s why I kept quiet about Dagbjört and never dared tell. I thought she’d come forward and point the finger at me if I owned up … And then there was the bloody smuggling. I was operating on a pretty big scale by then. It would all have been exposed and I’d have got into deep water for that too.’
‘Who’s “she”? What do you mean you’d met someone else? You’ll have to be clearer.’
‘A girl from Keflavík,’ said Mensalder. ‘I went out with her for a bit and she stole some dollars from me. I … she was a real bitch. This was a few months earlier. She worked on the base and used to go with the GIs. She was a real handful, kept getting into screaming matches with me and once it actually came to blows. After that she threatened to go to the police and say I’d attacked her – that I’d beaten her up and raped her. I was afraid she’d come forward if my name was linked to Dagbjört. So …’
‘What happened that morning?’ asked Erlendur. ‘What really happened?’
‘It was my idea to give her a lift to school,’ said Mensalder. ‘We were figuring out how and where to meet and I suggested I pick her up and drive her to school so she could collect the records and pay me at the same time. I was on my way out to Keflavík anyway. I could have let Rósanna take care of it and I’ve often thought since how much easier things would have been if only I’d done that. How my life might have turned out. But I … wanted to get to know Dagbjört. She was so … there was something so beautiful about her. So lovely. She was warm. A warm person. And I sensed she was interested in me too. There was … it was what she said, the way she said it. The way she smiled at me. I only met her that one time when I fetched the records from her house, and spoke to her once after that on the phone, but I immediately sensed there was some spark between us. Some connection. She was like that. She was giving. Kind. Took an interest in you.’
‘But you couldn’t just pick her up at her house?’
‘No, she was quite willing to accept a lift to school but insisted I meet her here. Perhaps she didn’t want to be seen with a black marketeer. I could understand that. And she’d have had a lot of explaining to do to her parents about who that man was waiting for her in the car outside her house first thing in the morning. We laughed about that.’
‘So it was all your idea from the beginning?’ said Erlendur. ‘To get in touch with her? To persuade her to meet you in secret? You prepared it well. You pretended you were going to drive her to school but took her somewhere else instead. Where? What happened? For God’s sake, what did you do to her?’
‘But that’s the whole point, I didn’t do anything!’ exclaimed Mensalder. ‘Not a thing! Haven’t you been listening to a word I said? The reason why I’ve never come clean about it?’
‘You said it was your idea to give her a lift. I assume you lured her into your car.’
‘This is just what I was afraid of,’ said Mensalder, extremely worked up by now. ‘Nobody’ll believe me. That’s why I’ve never dared tell.
Because everyone would instantly come to the same conclusion as you. That I’d seduced her. That she owed me money for the goods and I wanted payment in kind. That I hit her, like that bitch in Keflavík accused me of. That I raped her. And killed her. All that rubbish.’
‘Didn’t you?’
‘What?’
‘Attack her?’
‘I didn’t touch her! I’m trying to explain. The only thing I did wrong was not coming clean. Not telling people that we’d been planning to meet but she never showed up.’
‘Because you were afraid you’d be blamed for her disappearance?’
‘Yes, that they’d pin it on me. Can’t you understand that?’
‘You didn’t dare take the risk?’
‘No, I didn’t want to take the rap. It was nothing to do with me. I wasn’t involved. All I regret is that I didn’t speak up when she went missing. I deeply regret that. Regret it every day.’
‘You’ve had plenty of opportunity over the years.’
‘I know,’ whispered Mensalder, his voice cracking. ‘Do you think I’m not aware of that? That I haven’t thought about it? I justified it to myself that it didn’t make any difference that I’d arranged to meet her. It didn’t change anything. I had no more idea than anyone else about where she’d gone.’
‘Why should the police believe you now? You’ve made your behaviour appear ten times more suspicious by your silence. Your long silence.’
‘I know! None of this is new to me. It was a vicious circle I could see no way out of. I was desperate. Didn’t know what to do. People would have pointed the finger at me for the rest of my life. I’d always be the murder suspect. What do you think that would’ve been like? I couldn’t bear the stigma. Couldn’t bear it. You may think I was a gutless coward but that’s how I felt.’
‘But if you weren’t responsible for her disappearance and she never came to meet you, something must have happened to her before she got here.’
‘It just doesn’t make sense,’ said Mensalder. ‘At one point I thought she must have done it deliberately. Taken her own life for some inexplicable reason. It was … I …’
Into Oblivion Page 24
