‘Sure, Rafn,’ Danni said with a bravado he didn’t feel. ‘I’ll figure it out.’
‘There’s a deadline,’ Rafn said with the same impassive look from under his long forehead, the fair hair pulled back in a ponytail and thinning at the crown. ‘We want to open the shop in three weeks.’
‘Sure,’ Danni assured him as he stood up to leave.
Outside he made his way past a black van with tinted windows and three hulking motorcycles that squatted on the forecourt of what had been a small factory until the Undertakers had taken the place over and turned it into a clubhouse. His old car looked out of place parked in the street opposite, and he felt the sweat trickle down his back as he imagined Rafn looking out of the window at him.
Danni drove home through the evening traffic in a daze, the bundle of cash whispering to him that it was time to spend his cut right away on something smarter than the squeaky Fiat the traffic was currently whizzing past as he filtered off the main road and onto the slip road above the Fossvogur churchyard. The Fiat complained as he brought it to a halt at the lights and, still in a daze, he looked over the wheel at the stream of cars heading towards town. It was definitely worth looking at some of the car-sales places, he told himself. It wasn’t as if there was any harm in looking, and there’d be plenty of Rafn’s cash left over, especially if he could trade in the Fiat for something else. As if it could read his mind, the engine stalled as the lights turned green and was reluctant to restart. He turned the engine over a couple of times, and by the time it was running again, the lights had gone back to red.
Danni cursed and hammered the wheel with one fist, swearing at the useless piece of crap he was condemned to drive while everyone else he knew had a decent set of wheels. The throaty rumble of a bike engine shook him from his anger as a vast motorcycle pulled up in the lane next to him. Danni looked sideways at it and quailed as he recognized the machine. The bike’s owner looked slowly over at him, smiled and gave him a brief acknowledgement, two fingers lifted in a salute that sent shivers down his spine as the bike pulled away with an animal roar, leaving him stalled at the lights a second time, all thoughts of a replacement for the Fiat gone from his mind.
Friday
He preferred to keep Danni at arm’s length these days. While he had been married to Danni’s sister they had knocked around together, but that was firmly in the past. His parting from Sandra had been acrimonious and became increasingly so as the backlog of maintenance grew, and as a result his relationship with Danni had become less easy.
Logi made sandwiches and packed them in a knapsack, a garish yellow and electric green bag that his son had left behind after one of their rare weekends together, much to Sandra’s fury. It wasn’t as if he saw the children often, a weekend once a month at most. He hadn’t fought particularly hard for access and he admitted to himself that children didn’t really interest him a great deal. It was Sandra who had been desperate to have them, her body clock ticking ominously, he presumed, while he would have been just as happy without them. Probably happier, he brooded, though he hoped that as they grew up they might seek him out, and that he would get on better with them as adults.
He could hear Tadeusz revving the van’s engine outside and he emerged into the cool of the pre-rush-hour morning. Logi nodded and grunted a greeting, got in the back and wedged himself in a corner at the back of the van with his eyes closed and no intention of speaking to anyone.
He dozed fitfully all the way past the tunnel under Hvalfjördur and into the countryside beyond, opening his eyes, refreshed and awake, as it rattled to a halt outside the half-gutted farmhouse. Without saying anything to the others, and while Marek rolled the first joint of the day and another of the Poles set about lighting a fire from the abundant tinder-dry shards of floorboard to boil a kettle, Logi made his way upstairs. The tools were exactly where he had left them, and although there was no reason they shouldn’t be, he was relieved.
Logi retrieved the weighty bag from under the boards by the wall and felt its thick paper crackle as he stowed it under the sandwiches in his knapsack. He went to the window and glared out.
‘You’d better move away, guys. I’m going to be slinging stuff out any minute.’
‘Hey, what’s the hurry? We have all day,’ one of the men called back, aggrieved.
Logi ignored him and started hammering the jemmy under the first floorboard. It splintered as it came up and he didn’t bother to check if the Poles had moved away from the pile outside before he launched it through the window. He heard it clatter outside and, as there were no yells of pain, he assumed they had heeded his warning.
An hour later and with the floor stripped back to the rafters, he decided to take a break. There was coffee in the pot outside that the others had brewed, and it was still hot. He listened to the chatter from inside as the others ripped down ceilings and stripped cracked plaster from the walls. Another two days would do it, he reckoned. That would take them up to the weekend and he might push Pétur to have the team in on Saturday as well. That would get the job done ready for the plasterers, electricians and plumbers to do their work, and he guessed that they would take two weeks, maybe more if the roof needed attention as well. That would give him a window to work on Danni’s dodgy project out at Hellnahraun, and the money would easily allow him to settle a few debts and even make a dent in the maintenance.
In the afternoon the smell of smoke took him to the window of the bare room. Tadeusz and one of the others laughed and joked as the dry timbers snapped and spat in the flames. The fierce heat of the fire brought Logi out in a sweat, and he remembered that he hadn’t taken a break as the others had. Outside, he chugged half a bottle of water, poured some into his hand and wetted his face, then lit a cigarette as the Polish boys laughed and whooped, watching the old wood it had taken a week to strip out vanish in the fire with barely a puff of smoke.
‘Hey, Tadeusz,’ Logi called and leaned against the hole in the wall that had been the door until the frame had been levered out to go on the fire.
Tadeusz walked over, eyes on the fire, then looked at him enquiringly.
‘Busy next week, are you?’
‘I don’t think so. I’m not sure Pétur has any work for us until the pipes and wires have been fixed.’
Logi jerked his head towards the boys shouting across the roaring fire, the flames invisible in the bright sunshine as they scorched the grass black. ‘How about them?’
‘Janek’s going home to Poland on Sunday,’ he said. ‘Lubo has a job in a factory when the fishing starts next month. I don’t know about Marek. Why do you ask?’
‘Might have a week’s work for you. Maybe Marek as well.’
Tadeusz’s eyes widened and he grinned. ‘That would be great. But what about Pétur?’
Logi shrugged. ‘What about Pétur? If he doesn’t have work for you next week, he can hardly say anything if you go somewhere else, can he?’
‘Well, no,’ Tadeusz admitted. ‘I suppose . . .’
‘Listen. I don’t know how much of a job it is yet. I’m going to check it out when we get back to town, all right? I’ll let you know how it looks tomorrow, but I guess we’d be starting work on Sunday.’
‘Sunday?’
‘Yep. It’s a job that needs doing fast, so it’ll be every day.’
Tadeusz frowned and Logi saw his enthusiasm begin to evaporate. ‘But work on Sunday? How much for a day’s work?’
‘That’s my number-one question. There won’t be a daily rate. Just a flat rate for the job and we’ll split it between us. The quicker we finish, the happier the customer will be.’
‘Cash?’
‘Definitely cash.’
This time Tadeusz smiled broadly. ‘I like that. Cash is good. Don’t want to give the government too much.’
‘In that case I’ll count you in. Talk to Marek, will you? But keep it quiet. You understand?’
‘This is something not legal?’ Tadeusz asked, a note of doubt creeping in
to his voice.
‘Well,’ Logi said. ‘We’re legal enough. What the customer does afterwards is none of our business, is it?’
Monday
Logi hadn’t been able to hide his surprise when they had turned up to start the job. Everything seemed to be there. The pallets of wood and wallboards were all there ready for them, along with everything else on Logi’s shopping list. The boxes of screws and fixings were all present and correct. Admittedly, Danni had bought cheap stuff, but that was only to be expected.
‘So what’s this place supposed to be?’ Logi asked as Danni yawned. They had started work on a quiet Sunday morning, and by Monday they were already ahead of themselves. ‘What’s the matter, not used to being up this early?’
‘This isn’t early. This is late,’ Danni growled. ‘Did you sort an electrician as well?’
‘Marek can look after electrics,’ Logi said. ‘As long as it’s nothing complicated. He’ll be fine with lights and sockets.’
Danni looked dubious. ‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘Shouldn’t we have someone qualified for that?’
Logi shrugged. ‘Depends on your budget and how quickly you want this done.’
‘OK, just get it done.’
‘Cash?’
‘When the job’s finished.’
Come on, Danni. I know you’ve been given a wedge to get the job going. Let’s at least have a sub for the boys, shall we?’
Danni scowled and delved into his jacket to come up with a wad of cash that was thinner than he would have liked it to have been. He counted off notes.
‘Three hundred thousand. That’s a hundred thousand each to be going on with. Balance on completion.’
Logi counted the bundle of cash into three and called Tadeusz and Marek over. They accepted their down payments gratefully and went straight back to work.
‘Look,’ Logi muttered to Danni, ‘they’re working faster already. That’s the difference a few shekels in the pocket makes. See?’
‘Yeah, all right,’ Danni conceded. ‘Just keep them at it, will you?’
‘You do your bit and we’ll do ours. Anyway, we’re back on the other job soon, so we want this done by then. I’ve asked you before, but what the hell is this place?’
‘Why d’you need to know?’
‘I don’t, but it makes the job a lot easier if I know what it’s supposed to be. Ceilings are no problem, but where do you want walls and doors? If I know why, then I can figure it out for myself.’
‘It’s a car showroom, I think,’ Danni said.
‘You don’t know?’ Logi asked, and then decided to back off as the occasional tic that he recognized as a precursor to an outburst appeared below Danni’s left eye.
‘I’m a sub-contractor the same as you. Anyway, the guy who’s paying will be along later, and he’ll tell me what he wants and where.’
‘Fair enough. We’ll be here until late, so if you pick up a couple of big pizzas and a litre of Coke around five, we’ll keep at it as long as there’s daylight.’
Tuesday
Cheerful Tadeusz was the one who habitually left a trail of mess behind him and taciturn Marek was the tidy one. He swept up before they left, stuffing the empty pizza boxes into a plastic dustbin and leaving it by the back door as Logi locked up.
Marek and Tadeusz left in Marek’s beaten-up Volkswagen and Logi was just putting his toolbox into his pickup when a black van pulled up on the forecourt.
A tall figure with hollow cheeks and a fair ponytail swung the keys on his little finger as he strolled over. A bluetooth headset nestled in one ear. Logi was instantly suspicious without knowing exactly why; there was simply something about him that yelled trouble. The man with the headset peered in the half-light at the framework for the new suspended ceiling that was now mostly in place and moved his head, half a nod and half a shake, as if he wasn’t prepared to give approval either way.
‘You looking for someone, pal?’ Logi asked. ‘Because we’re finished for the day and I’m locking up.’
‘Just taking a look,’ the man said softly. He kicked an offcut with his heel, sending it away into a dark corner. Logi pursed his lips in irritation. They had cleaned up once.
‘And you are who? I don’t know about you but I have better things to do.’
‘Let’s say I’m the proprietor. And you?’
‘I’m the chippy.’
‘Does the chippy have a name?’
‘The chippy has a name, but he doesn’t hand it out to anyone who just shows up and starts poking around. So come on, sunshine, out you go. If you want a look, come back in the morning.’
‘Where’s the office?’ The headset guy asked suddenly, looking through Logi.
‘What’s that to you?’
‘The place needs an office. In that corner,’ he decided, waving a hand at the far wall.
‘Well, if you’re involved with this, then you can have it out with the contracts guy. I’m just following instructions and, like I said, I’m done for the day.’
The headset guy stared at him for a long moment and Logi had the feeling he was memorizing him, filing him away for future reference. He picked up the rubbish bag and a length of framing timber from the floor underneath it.
‘Come on, pal. I’ve had enough for today. I don’t know who you are, but if you’ve got a problem, come back in the morning. The complaints department’s open from seven until three minutes past. So now do me a favour and piss off so I can go and get my dinner.’
The headset guy left, a narrow smile on his lips, sauntering across the forecourt. He opened the door of the black van, turned to look at Logi and watched him until he caught his eye. The man pointed a finger at Logi, drew it sharply back and up, and blew smoke from the end of an imaginary gun barrel before driving away with a squeal of tyres.
Thursday
Axel Rútur was tired of looking for the bloody man. He was never at home and Axel wanted to finish the job and get paid; it was one of several that were outstanding, and Alli, who had arranged it with the woman for the usual percentage, was getting on his case. He swerved across a couple of lanes and gave an uncaring finger to someone behind him who sounded a horn.
Hell, the woman was a looker in spite of her tongue. Maybe he’d be tempted to offer her a deal on a discount in return for a consideration, or even the opportunity to settle up some other way? Axel Rútur grinned to himself and preened, looking in the Outlander’s rear-view mirror. He told himself he’d rather have the money, but he’d give the woman the option anyway. You never knew, she might jump at it. These hard-up single women with a bunch of kids could spring all kinds of surprises, and this one had clearly taken care to keep herself in shape.
He wondered which gym she went to. His expert eye was sure those tight buns and trim figure owed something to dedicated exercise, and he deplored people who didn’t work out. Axel Rútur was proud of his physique and kept himself in the best shape a man could with a constant routine of weights, exercise and sparring.
He’d give the guy another try this evening and maybe he’d be home at last. Too bad the woman didn’t know where her ex-husband was working these days, otherwise he could have just found him and followed him home instead of having to make this detour out of town a couple of times a day.
Not to worry, he told himself. He’d strike it lucky soon enough.
Logi saw his phone flash, and when he saw Sandra’s name appear on the screen, he decided to ignore her. It had been a long day and the conversation with the headset guy had unsettled him. That parting gesture convinced him that he wasn’t a tax snooper, although who knows? They probably come in all shapes and sizes, he decided.
The screen of his phone went dark again, and moments later buzzed and lit up a second time. This time there was no name on the screen, just a number he didn’t recognize; he assumed it would be Sandra calling from someone else’s phone to nag him yet again about unpaid maintenance.
He switched off the pickup’s engine and sat in t
he darkness for a few minutes. He felt tired as he lugged his toolboxes indoors and dumped them by the door. The house was an old one, a wooden-framed, black-painted place that had probably been thrown together years ago in a hurry as a summer house in an out-of-town area that was now about to be engulfed by the expanding city. Logi had the place on loan for an undetermined length of time, as long as he covered the bills. It belonged to a friend who had emigrated for shorter hours and more stable work in Denmark, leaving his house for sale. Logi made sure that on the rare occasions anyone wanted to view the place, they left aware of the lamentable state of the roof.
He put a ready meal in the microwave, popped the ringpull of a beer and sat at the kitchen table, waiting for his food to be ready. The old-fashioned table had a drawer in the side, and he slid it open and took out the brown leather case he had found under the floorboards up in Borgarfjördur. The thought of it had returned to him several times during the last few days and he had researched how to handle the weapon on the internet.
While the microwave hummed, he spun the chamber, clicked the catch and opened the revolver to look at the circle of empty chambers. He snapped it closed again, lifted the gun and extended his arm, pointing it at the microwave and pulling gently on the trigger, feeling the mechanism and watching the hammer fall back. He closed one eye and looked along the sight at the glass window, and as it stopped humming and chimed, he pulled the trigger and the gun clicked.
He put it on the table and admired it as he forked up his ready meal straight from its foil tray. Logi cracked another beer and pushed the remnants of his food aside. He lifted the gun again and felt the weight and heft of it in his hand, where it nestled as if it belonged there. He broke it open again, and this time he slotted bullets into the chambers. It felt heavier now, more balanced. He liked the look of it, and had all but decided that he was going to keep it now. It might fetch a few hundred thousand on the black market, but he liked the feel of the thing and the sense of security it gave him.
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