‘No! Absolutely not.’
Sævaldur’s face had gone an entirely new shade of red that Gunna had never seen before. Lunch with Gísli had driven Orri completely out of her mind for an hour and she felt raw after the long talk with her son, but deeply relieved that they had gone some way to making peace with each other again.
‘All right, give me one good reason, will you?’
‘Because I’ve been chasing after this bastard for the last year and I want him to stew in a cell for ever. I don’t want him to see the light of day ever again.’
Three years of working with Ívar Laxdal had given Gunna an insight into his character, and she recognized the glint in his eye betraying that he relished the sight of Sævaldur Bogason in full furious flow.
‘That’s still no reason,’ she continued. ‘He’s been arrested and he’s been charged. He’s no danger to anyone but himself and he’s hardly likely to go on a last burglary spree now, is he?’
Are you off your fucking head, woman?’
‘Ívar?’
‘My feeling is that Gunnhildur is right,’ Ívar Laxdal said. ‘It hurts to let this character out, but he’s been charged and in any case his lawyer can argue convincingly enough for bail. He’d get it, no doubt, as far as I’m concerned. He’s not a violent criminal and I can’t see him hurting anyone.’
‘Have it your own way,’ Sævaldur said, his frustration evident. ‘But I hope they throw away the key. Not that they’re likely to give him more than a pat on the back and ask him nicely not to do it again for a while,’ he added bitterly. The door banged behind him.
‘He’s not a happy camper, is he?’
‘No, Gunnhildur, he’s not, and I understand his feelings entirely. But if you have to, I suggest you get this done quickly.’
A few minutes later Gunna stood at the back of the least comfortable interview room as Eiríkur gave Orri back the contents of his pockets.
‘Sign here, will you?’ he said, spinning the form around and placing a pen on it.
Orri looked bewildered. ‘What does this mean?’
‘It means you’re being released,’ Eiríkur told him. ‘Pending recall for further questioning and a court appearance.’
‘But . . . I thought . . .’
‘Thought what? Thought you were going to be shipped off to Litla Hraun? Count yourself lucky is all I can say.’
‘But I don’t want to be released,’ Orri blurted out.
‘What? You don’t want to be let out? Listen, we get drunks turning up asking for a cell to crash in often enough, but you must have a good reason to want to be inside, surely?’ Eiríkur said with interest. ‘What’s the problem?’
Orri deflated in confusion. ‘Nothing,’ he said finally. ‘It’s all right.’ He switched on his phone and listened to the chime of it starting up before he stowed it in his pocket. He scrawled a signature on the form to confirm his belongings had been returned.
‘I’m going that way myself,’ Gunna said. ‘I’ll even give you a lift home.’
‘What the hell’s going on?’ Orri demanded. ‘Why is this happening?’
‘Why are you so suspicious?’ Gunna retorted. ‘I’m going to Hafnarfjördur anyway. I can drop you off on the way. But if you’d rather go over the road and wait for a bus, that’s up to you. I’ll be downstairs in ten minutes,’ she said and left the room, leaving Eiríkur to deliver Orri to the car park.
Gunna discreetly glanced in the rear-view mirror to make sure that Eiríkur was in sight while Orri sat slumped in the seat next to her.
‘I shouldn’t have told you anything,’ he said as the Golf swished through puddles on the way out of town.
‘You didn’t have to. Listen, Orri. What’s the problem? Go back to work.’
‘That’s what I don’t understand.’
Gunna slowed as they approached a set of lights. ‘What don’t you understand?’
‘I don’t understand why you’re being so nice,’ he sneered. ‘That fat bastard wanted to lock me up for ever.’
‘Sævaldur? Yeah, he’s a bit extreme. But we’re not all like that.’
‘So why the nice cop, nasty cop thing?’
The traffic crawled to a standstill on Miklabraut as a large four-by-four with tinted windows caused a furore of horns as it stopped across two lanes at the intersection.
‘If I wasn’t busy, I’d pull that idiot over and give him a ticket,’ Gunna mused. ‘Because that’s the way we are. Some of us are rougher round the edges than others. As far as I’m concerned, you haven’t been charged with any violent offences, your passport’s been impounded and it’s not as if you’re going to skip the country. So I don’t see the point in keeping you fed and watered at taxpayer’s expense. Do you have any idea how crowded Litla Hraun is these days and how much it costs to keep someone on remand?’
‘Well, I suppose.’
‘Keep your nose clean. You’ll probably get a year when it finally comes to court and you’ll be out in six months. After that I hope never to have to cross your path again in a professional capacity.’
Orri sat up and looked happier as Gunna accelerated and then didn’t speak again until she had taken the turning along Nýbýlavegur towards the far end of Kópavogur.
‘And if you do?’ he asked suddenly.
‘If I do what?’
‘If we have to meet in your professional capacity?’
‘Then I’ll throw the book at you and hang every unsolved break-in I can find for the last twenty years on you. Does that answer your question?’
Orri finally allowed himself a wan smile. ‘Yeah. It does.’
‘Go to work tomorrow. Make it up with with Lísa. Keep your fingers clean,’ Gunna said, turning off down the rutted road leading to the block where Orri lived and checking as she did so that Eiríkur had driven past. She pulled up next to Lísa’s Ka. ‘Now piss off and make the most of your few weeks of freedom before the courts get round to your case.’
Chapter Fourteen
Gunna lay in the dark and wondered if she’d done the right thing. Sævaldur was furious, not least because of his complete failure to uncover any leads on the murder of Vilhelm Thorleifsson, his frustration compounded by Eiríkur finding the culprit behind the wave of burglaries around the city that had become his own personal mission over the last eighteen months. Gunna’s decision to release Orri when Sævaldur would have relished grilling him for hours in an uncomfortable interview room at Litla Hraun had practically given him palpitations. Much as she disliked working with Sævaldur Bogason, she could understand his feelings.
She knew she should be asleep, but the makeshift bed was unfamiliar and the flat was a small one. Gunna stretched out, feeling something hard digging into her back through the sofa bed’s thin upholstery. Thoughts of Sunna María, Orri and Jóhann kept nagging her, especially Jóhann’s chagrin at being asked to stay in hospital instead of going home, and his bewilderment when Gunna had told him how important it might be not to let anyone know he had survived his ordeal in the wilderness.
Eventually she had relented and Jóhann’s sons, one a younger version of their lanky, curly haired father and the other a bearded barrel of a man, had both been told that their father was alive, but sworn to silence.
Gunna padded across to the kitchen and keyed a message into her phone: Anything yet?
She toyed with the idea of making herself a cup of coffee, but immediately decided against it, knowing that a hint of caffeine would definitely rule out sleep.
In the other room, ten-month-old Ari Gíslason moaned in his sleep and Gunna could hear Soffía clucking and cooing to him as she rocked him back to sleep. Her phone buzzed discreetly on the kitchen table.
Nothing so far, she read. Had she made a huge mistake? She was sure this time Ívar Laxdal’s head would be on the block along with her own and she wondered why he had allowed her to take such a chance. She punched in another message.
Seen anything?
This time the reply came bac
k almost instantly.
Silent as the grave, she read and smiled grimly to herself, wondering how Eiríkur was feeling outside on a cold night like this.
I’ll come and relieve you in a couple of hours, she wrote back and looked up as Soffía appeared with Ari on her shoulder.
‘He won’t go back to sleep?’
‘He’s hungry,’ Soffía said, yawning, and sat down, cradling the little boy and lifting her shirt to attach him to a nipple. ‘Can’t you sleep?’
‘No. I had a couple of hours, but woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep again.’
‘Something big going on?’ Soffía asked. ‘I know I shouldn’t ask . . .’
‘I’m really not sure. I may be barking completely up the wrong tree, but I expect we’ll find out in the morning. All right, is he?’
‘He’s fine,’ Soffía said fondly. ‘He normally needs a feed around this time.’
‘So when did you last get a full night’s sleep?’
‘About this time last year.’
‘I remember all that like it was yesterday.’
‘I spoke to Drífa yesterday. I’m going to drive out to Hvalvík and see her again at the weekend. We need to let these two little reprobates get to know each other,’ she said. ‘I think he’s asleep already,’ she added, shifting the baby gently. ‘And it was lovely to see Laufey and Steini again. It’s a long time since I saw them. I’ve missed Hvalvík,’ she said wistfully. ‘I like being back in Reykjavík again, but I miss the quietness in Hvalvík.’
‘Laufey spends a lot of time with Drífa these days.’
‘Good. She must be lonely. I don’t envy her being in that position.’
‘We tend to be difficult in my family, I’m afraid, and my Gísli is no exception,’ Gunna said and started as her communicator buzzed.
‘You there, Gunna?’ She heard Eiríkur’s voice in the earpiece she hastily stuffed into one ear.
‘I’m here. What’s going on?’
‘Not sure. There’s someone moving around.’
‘Can you see who it is?’
‘No. Just a shadow in the dark. What do you want me to do?’
‘Do what you think’s best. Observe but don’t take any chances. I’m on my way.’ Gunna stood up. ‘Time to go, I’m afraid.’
‘A short night for you.’
‘Yep. Someone’s going to be grumpy in the morning.’ She grinned. ‘So feel sorry for any villains who have to deal with me tomorrow. Thanks for letting me stay.’
‘You’re welcome. I won’t make the sofa up, in case you need somewhere to crash in the morning.’
Eiríkur was swaddled in a coat that came up to his chin and a hat that came down to his eyebrows.
‘Where’s Tinna?’ Gunna asked as soon as she saw him.
‘She went to check the street.’
‘All right, what did you see?’
‘Someone came along the street, walking towards the car. Dark clothes, tallish. Disappeared between the houses.’
Gunna peered into the gloom between the patches of light cast by the few street lamps erected in the half-finished length of Kópavogsbakki. ‘Between which houses?’
‘There and there,’ Eiríkur said, pointing to one of the two houses being built for Sunna María and the completed villa next to it. ‘Tinna went that way and I went to check Sunna María’s place.’
‘All quiet?’
‘Nothing to be seen. Any luck?’ he asked as Tinna, the uniformed officer he had been paired with for the night’s surveillance, appeared from the darkness.
‘Nothing,’ she said with a shake of her head. Nothing to be seen and nothing to be heard.’
‘No movement or lights at Sunna María’s house?’
‘The lights went off not long after midnight.’
‘No visitors before that?’ Gunna said.
‘No, looks like she’s been there all evening.’
‘Unlike her to be home alone, I’d have thought. Oh well, keep an eye out and see what happens, but watch that back door,’ she warned as her phone buzzed.
Something’s going on. Give me a call, she read on the screen, and immediately dialled, walking along the street away from Tinna and Eiríkur as she did so.
The phone rang once before it was answered.
‘Communications. Siggi speaking.’
‘Hæ. Gunna. What’s going on? Any calls to any of those numbers?’
The communications officer on the other end of the line muttered to himself and she could hear him shuffling sheets of paper. ‘Your friend in Kópavogur had a text message, in English. It reads: Meet tomorrow? Does that make sense to you?’
‘Not a lot. Is that all there is?’
‘The reply reads: Can’t meet. Been arrested.’
‘Any more?’
‘There’s a message back again that says: We’ll be quick. Same place.’
‘And?’
‘That’s it.’
‘And the number it came from?’
‘An unregistered pay-as-you-go mobile.’
Gunna walked faster, turned and walked back towards Eiríkur and Tinna as she talked. ‘Can you trace the locations?’
‘Your friend’s mobile has been on the same mast since four this afternoon. The other one’s somewhere downtown and hasn’t been moving about either.’
‘And our friend hasn’t replied?’
‘Hold on.’ Gunna could hear the clicking of a keyboard and Siggi’s heavy breathing into the phone jammed under his chin. ‘Just now. He sent one back that said: Time? There’s been no reply to that one yet.’
‘All right. Thanks, Siggi. Let me know as soon as something happens with either of them, will you?’
‘I will. I’ll brief my relief when he arrives as well. This has priority, right?’
‘Absolutely. Our friend’s friend is someone we definitely don’t want walking the streets. So top priority, please,’ Gunna said and ended the call. ‘Eiríkur!’
‘Yes, chief?’ he said, looking expectant.
‘It seems Orri’s meeting someone in the morning, and I have a feeling it’s the guy who abducted Jóhann.’
‘You know when?’
‘That’s the fun part of it all,’ Gunna said. ‘We don’t know when and we don’t know where.’
‘Gunna.’
She heard the voice calling her from a distance. A soft, welcoming voice that begged her to open her eyes.
‘Gunna.’
This time it was more insistent, firmer, and she resisted the temptation to find out who wanted her so badly. She rolled her shoulders and huddled deeper into the borrowed anorak when the hum of an engine starting up reminded her that she wasn’t asleep in her own bed and a heavy hand shook her shoulder.
‘Gunna, our friend’s on the move.’
She was awake in an instant on the back seat of one of the car pool’s unmarked Golfs. Big Geiri, who had been watching the door of the block of flats where she had delivered Orri the previous afternoon, was taking the car along the track towards the main road with the lights off. Looking through the windscreen she could see Orri’s rust-coloured Toyota in the distance in the glow of the street lights. Drizzle fizzed in the dim spheres of light around them and the wipers swept the windscreen clean.
‘Keep behind him, but not too close,’ Gunna instructed needlessly. ‘What time is it?’
‘Six ten.’
‘Hell, he must be going to work.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘Off Reykjanesbraut, just outside Hafnarfjördur.’
‘That fits, he’s going right.’
‘Don’t lose him, Geiri, this one’s important,’ Gunna said and Geiri put his foot down as soon as he had a chance, keeping his eyes on the lights of Orri’s car while Gunna clicked her communicator.
‘Zero-four-fifty-one, ninety-five-fifty. Eiríkur, you there?’
Ninety-five-fifty, zero-four-fifty-one. Got you.’
‘Heading for Reykjanesbraut. Our friend’s moving.’<
br />
‘Orri?’ Eiríkur asked sleepily.
‘My guess is he’s going to work. Any movement at Sunna María’s place?’
‘This early? Nothing.’
‘All right. Give her an hour and then bang on her door. Make sure she’s still in one piece.’
‘Will do.’
Gunna leaned over the seat to peer through the windscreen. ‘You can still see him?’
‘Right there,’ Geiri growled. ‘And over the speed limit in this weather.’
‘Definitely looks like he’s going to work. I’ll duck behind the seat if you want to get closer. We can’t let him see me.’
The Golf spun through the sheets of water forming on the roads and Orri’s car came gradually closer until Geiri caught up with it at an intersection outside Hafnarfjördur. As the lights changed he ran a light that had just gone red to keep up and then allowed another car to filter across between them, still keeping Orri in sight.
With Hafnarfjördur behind them, Orri’s car sideslipped onto a feeder road and Geiri took his foot off the pedal to create some space between them.
‘He’s coming off.’
‘I thought he would. Keep an eye on him as far back as you can.’
Geiri slowed and waited until Orri was already down the sloping curve before he followed, letting himself lose sight of Orri’s car for a few seconds, and at the same time letting Orri lose sight of anyone who might be following. Now it was obvious where he was going and Geiri pulled up in the parking lot of a neighbouring building between a couple of vans, far enough from the Green Bay Dispatch unit to be inconspicuous.
‘What now?’
‘I need another half hour with my eyes closed,’ Gunna said, handing him the pair of small binoculars from the back seat. ‘Our boy will probably come out and drive off in one of those vans. When he does, wake me up.’
Gunna’s communicator came to life at the same time as the Golf did and she felt the car move as ‘Ninety-five-fifty, zero-four-fifty-one’ crackled in her ear.
‘Zero-four-fifty-one, ninety-five-fifty,’ Gunna answered as she looked around. ‘What’s happening, Geiri?’
‘Our friend’s moving off. The white Trafic up there.’ He pointed with a thick finger to the van in the distance.
Cold Steal Page 32
