‘Why haven’t you arrested the suspect – this Felix – yet?’
‘Because so far he’s evaded capture,’ said Flóvent, omitting to mention that he had come within an inch of nabbing him at Rudolf Lunden’s surgery.
‘I hear you’re detaining a woman from the Lunden household.’
‘The housekeeper, yes, that’s right. We’re putting pressure on her, but it’s not clear how much she knows about Felix Lunden’s activities. However, we do know that she’s been helping him since the murder. Hiding him. Mind you, I’m pretty sure she’s doing it out of loyalty rather than anything more sinister. They kept his father, Rudolf, in the dark. Or so she claims.’
‘If,’ said Arnfinnur, ‘the visit you mentioned happens – and I should stress that we know nothing about it – would Felix Lunden pose a threat to the safety of the visitor?’
‘No, I don’t think so. There’s nothing to suggest that. Are you worried? Have you heard rumours?’
‘No,’ said Arnfinnur emphatically. ‘I just wanted to check with you. Have you had any contact with a man called Major Graham from the US intelligence department? I believe he’ll be in charge of security. If the visit happens.’
‘Thorson – who’s working alongside me on behalf of the military police – has been in touch with a Major Graham at the Leper Hospital.’
‘Well, he’s to be informed the instant you lay your hands on Felix. Will you bear that in mind?’
‘Have they been leaning on you? Graham and his men?’
‘We’re always being leant on, Flóvent, you know that.’
Arnfinnur rose to his feet. ‘They’re extremely anxious for this man to be apprehended, and from what I hear they’re poised to intervene at any minute.’
‘There’s absolutely no need.’
‘Maybe. But they think you’re not getting anywhere. They want to take over the investigation themselves – and start getting pretty heavy-handed. They want a house-to-house search. More people arrested and interrogated. Radio transmitters tracked down and communications intercepted. They’re getting increasingly impatient. You’d better bear that in mind. They don’t believe we can handle the case. They think we’re bumbling amateurs, especially when it comes to investigating cases of espionage. They point out that we have no experience with the latter.’
‘Fortunately, in my opinion.’
‘Yes, perhaps. I’m guessing they’re jittery in case the visit actually comes off. The last thing they want is for the Germans to get wind of it. They’re afraid for the great man’s safety. You’re to keep them informed.’
Flóvent watched Arnfinnur leave and was about to head home himself when the phone rang. It was Thorson, calling to tell him about his conversations with Vera and Billy. He had no grounds to request their detention as there was no direct proof that they had plotted to kill Eyvindur. Flóvent told him, in turn, what he had dug up about a boy called Ríkhardur who had been at school with Felix, and the news that Felix might have played a part in the tragic accident that led to the boy’s death.
Flóvent was just about to hang up when he remembered the broken window. They discussed it briefly, then agreed that they had better look into it and arranged to meet at the scene.
A few minutes later they were standing outside the German consulate on Túngata, looking up at the round window. Thorson still had the keys from their last visit. The broken pane was in a small cellar window round the back of the building. It had been reported by the people who lived next door. As soon as they shone their torches on it, Flóvent and Thorson realised this wasn’t a case of kids throwing stones: there had been a break-in.
‘The lazy so-and-so,’ said Flóvent, ‘he obviously didn’t bother to investigate at all.’ He examined the traces by the cellar window: the obvious footprints and signs that someone had lain down by the window and squeezed through it.
‘You mean the police officer who was sent to check this out?’
‘If he even bothered to come round,’ said Flóvent, peering in through the window.
‘See anything?’
‘It looks like the boiler room. There’s some rubbish on the floor.’
They walked round to the front of the house and Thorson unlocked the door. They entered the hall, then headed straight down the stairs to the cellar and found the door of the boiler room open. A mattress had been dragged inside and placed next to the old coal-burning boiler, with a Nazi flag and curtains serving as bedclothes. There were some leftovers – stale bread and raw potatoes – on the floor. But they couldn’t find any clue to the identity of the mysterious visitor who had been living in Werner Gerlach’s cellar.
‘Could it be a tramp?’ asked Flóvent, peering round the room. ‘No one’s keeping an eye on the property any longer.’
‘Maybe,’ said Thorson. ‘Someone might have been camped out here for a while. Made themselves at home.’
‘Wouldn’t we have noticed all this the last time we were here?’
‘I guess.’
‘And shouldn’t there be old brennivín bottles lying around if it’s a tramp?’ said Flóvent. ‘Or meths … or bottles of baking essence?’
‘You’re saying it’s not necessarily a vagrant…?’
Flóvent prodded at the Nazi flag with his toe. ‘It looks more like a hideout than a tramp’s dossing place. Don’t you think?’
‘A hideout? You mean…?’
‘I don’t know, but it’s possible.’
‘You think Felix Lunden broke in here?’
‘It’s no worse a hideout than anywhere else,’ said Flóvent, picking up the flag. ‘Felix doesn’t have many places to turn. Perhaps he reckoned on this being the last place we’d look for him.’
‘Do you think he could still be in the building?’
‘Perhaps we’d better check.’
They embarked on a systematic search of the consulate, starting with the cellar, then the ground floor, opening the doors one after the other, peering into every cupboard and storeroom. They did the same upstairs and in the attic, but it appeared that the uninvited guest had kept to the cellar: they found no trace of him anywhere else in the house.
About half an hour later they were back where they had started, standing by the mattress in the boiler room. Thorson shone his torch into every nook and cranny and eventually the beam caught something in the narrow space behind the boiler. Getting down on his hands and knees, he reached into the space and pulled out a metal tube of toothpaste. Thorson got up again and showed the tube to Flóvent.
‘Isn’t that the brand he was selling?’ Thorson asked.
Written on the tube, which was squeezed flat in the middle, were the words Kolynos Dental Cream. Flóvent unscrewed the lid and sniffed at the toothpaste.
‘Do you think he carried a tube with him?’
‘Why not?’ said Thorson. ‘“For whiter, brighter teeth”.’
Flóvent smiled.
‘Who else could it be?’ Thorson went on. ‘Surely Felix has been hiding here.’
‘We certainly can’t rule it out,’ said Flóvent, screwing the lid back on the tube and putting it in his pocket.
‘You’re right. He must have thought it wouldn’t ever occur to us to look for him here,’ said Thorson.
‘He must be getting pretty desperate,’ said Flóvent. ‘If this was the only place he could find.’
48
Brynhildur Hólm still couldn’t sleep in her prison cell, so she was awake when the guard opened the door and escorted her out to the interview room, explaining that she had visitors. Waiting for her in the room were Flóvent and Thorson, who apologised for disturbing her at such a late hour but said they felt their business was too urgent to delay. Brynhildur took a seat facing them, an apprehensive look on her face, and they told her about the break-in at the German consulate and how they believed Felix had been hiding there since he’d fled from his father’s surgery. An unobtrusive police guard had now been posted at the consulate in case Felix returned. The
y wanted to ask her if she knew where else he could be hiding.
‘No, I have no idea,’ Brynhildur said.
Flóvent removed the tube of toothpaste from his pocket and showed it to her. ‘Was he carrying this with him? Do you know?’
‘It’s possible,’ replied Brynhildur. ‘I didn’t check his pockets.’
She reached for the tube in order to examine it, but Flóvent withdrew his hand.
‘For goodness’ sake,’ she said indignantly. ‘Did you think I was going to eat it?’
‘We found it at the German consulate,’ said Flóvent, putting the toothpaste back in his pocket. ‘He’d been camping in the cellar. I repeat, have you any idea where he might go next? Where else might he think of taking refuge?’
‘I can’t help you with that,’ said Brynhildur. ‘I don’t know of anywhere else, except…’
‘What?’
‘There … Some years ago Rudolf bought a hut on the coast at Vatnsleysuströnd with the idea of converting it into a summer house. Then he had his accident, and he’s never been back there or done anything with the property since. Felix … I don’t know … perhaps he’s hiding there. But I really have no idea.’
‘Flóvent tells me that you knew Felix was working for the Germans,’ said Thorson. ‘That his uncle, Hans Lunden, recruited him.’
Brynhildur nodded. ‘Felix has a high opinion of Hans, and I’m fairly sure they discussed spying and that Hans provided him with contacts in Germany and Denmark. But when I asked Felix, he refused to confirm or deny it. I know he’s always been a committed Nazi. Like Ebeneser and Rudolf.’
‘But they abandoned the faith, didn’t they?’ said Flóvent.
‘Yes, but Felix didn’t. His attitude hardened, I think, when the Germans started overrunning one country after another, though he kept his thoughts to himself.’
‘Do you believe his stint as a travelling salesman was merely a cover for his spying activities around the country?’
‘It’s possible. But I’m not the person to ask about such things.’
‘He didn’t tell you why there was a price on his head?’
‘No. I assume it’s because of his “activities”.’
‘Did he offer any hints as to the identity of these people?’
‘No, he wouldn’t tell me who they were.’
‘But you said he had other theories about the murder. Wasn’t he telling you something about Eyvindur’s girlfriend – that she may have wanted to get rid of him because she was mixed up in the Situation?’
‘Felix felt he couldn’t rule that out,’ said Brynhildur. ‘Really, he was as mystified as you are.’
‘Who would have wanted to eliminate Felix?’ asked Thorson. ‘If we work on the basis that he was the target. Had he given himself away? Had someone here got wind of the fact that he was a spy?’
‘That was one possibility he was considering, but he wouldn’t talk about it. Wouldn’t say who these mysterious people were or why they were after him, but it didn’t seem that far-fetched to me – that he was frightened of something like that. He thinks they’re out to kill him – there’s no question of that. That’s why he’s on the run. That’s why he won’t turn himself in.’
‘You mentioned that he talked about some “outsider” being hired – when Eyvindur was killed?’ said Flóvent.
‘Yes, but sadly I couldn’t get any more out of him,’ said Brynhildur. ‘I’ve no idea what he meant. But I did get the feeling that he was terrified of someone here in the garrison. Maybe even someone he was in contact with, who provided him with information. At least, I get the impression that someone was feeding him information. But Felix was very vague. He wouldn’t tell me anything. He was deliberately evasive, just started stammering. But that was my impression after I pressed him about the matter. That he was terrified of someone in the defence force.’
‘Let’s move on to the letter Rudolf received about the experiments, the blackmail letter.’
‘What about it?’
‘Didn’t you say you thought it might have had something to do with Eyvindur’s death? That he might have gone to put pressure on Felix but the visit ended in disaster?’
‘Yes, I have wondered about that,’ said Brynhildur reluctantly. ‘That’s true.’
‘That Felix might have shot him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you think he’d be capable of that? Of shooting a man in the head?’
Brynhildur hesitated. ‘I’m in no position to judge,’ she replied after a moment. ‘It’s impossible to answer a question like that.’
‘Is it?’ said Flóvent. ‘Is it so impossible? Didn’t you say he had inherited a cruel streak from his father’s side? From Hans Lunden?’
Brynhildur didn’t answer.
‘Do you remember a boy who was at school with him and Eyvindur and Jósep, a boy called Rikki? You ought to remember him. He’s in the photograph.’ Flóvent took out the leaflet and laid it on the table in front of her.
Brynhildur held Flóvent’s gaze silently for a moment, before dropping her eyes briefly to the picture, then looking away to study the tabletop.
‘Why don’t you pick it up?’ asked Flóvent. ‘Take a better look?’
‘I’ve seen it often enough.’
‘Do you remember what happened to the boy in question?’
Again, Brynhildur didn’t answer.
‘I expect you have at least a vague recollection,’ said Flóvent. ‘He was one of the boys Felix focused his attentions on, befriended for a while. The doctor’s son, no less, deigning to visit the boy from the Pólar, where the dregs of society lived, inspecting his living conditions, observing his drunken mother and his violent father who used to hit her, and his sister who was mistreated. Observing Rikki himself, who did his best to please Felix.’
Brynhildur kept her eyes lowered.
‘Jósep here,’ said Flóvent, pointing to the photograph, ‘told me about Rikki and his family. He also told me that Felix had a strange hold over the boys he got to know. He was more intelligent, from a stable home, his father was an important doctor and so on, but there was something else about him, something captivating, almost dangerous, which they’d never encountered before. A certain charisma. They were ready to tell him anything he wanted to know, obey any orders he gave them. They held nothing back, which was how he managed to learn their inner secrets: their thoughts, their fears – and test how easily they would bend to his will. He was their leader. They did everything he wanted. Jósep shoplifted for him. Eyvindur killed a kitten by bashing its head against a rock – because Felix told him to.’
Brynhildur bowed her head, and Flóvent leant across the table to try to see her face.
‘And Rikki jumped because Felix gave him a pill, which he’d acquired from his father, and told him he’d be able to fly.’
Brynhildur didn’t say a word during this speech.
‘Did Rudolf give Felix the pill? Was that part of the experiment?’
Brynhildur didn’t answer.
‘Wasn’t it all part of the experiment? The blind faith they put in their leader?’
‘Rudolf never thought … he thought Felix would stop the boy before he could jump.’
‘Never thought…? Was he never struck by the irony that the only boy in all these bizarre experiments who turned out to be really dangerous was his own son? Little Felix Lunden?’
‘Felix put the blame on Ríkhardur … on Rikki himself. On his naivety. His stupidity. Rudolf has never got over the shock. Of course he was responsible. It was part of his research. He pushed his son. Encouraged him. Felix told him all about the boys, and Rudolf directed Felix. He didn’t wake up to the consequences until it was too late. The study was never mentioned again. He blamed Felix and sent him to live with relatives in Denmark. He avoided him. He’s never really made it up to him, and their relationship has never recovered. When Felix came back he was restless, neglected his studies, then left college without taking his exams … He’d b
een to stay with his Uncle Hans in Germany and seen the rise of Nazism first-hand and was swept away by enthusiasm for everything he saw and heard. He latched on to the Nationalist Party here but felt they didn’t go far enough, weren’t ambitious enough. “A bunch of nonentities,” he called them.’
‘Were you aware that he had started sending information to Germany? Did you help him?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘But you didn’t report him?’
‘Don’t try to put the blame on me for … You…’ She broke off, and they could see that she was angry now. Burning with resentment at the questions, at the accusations, at the way she was being treated – which she felt was entirely unjustified. Suddenly it seemed she’d had enough, that she had finally decided to place all her cards on the table.
‘Aren’t you overlooking the obvious?’ she said.
‘The obvious?’
‘Why do you think Felix wasn’t sent to Britain after he came home? There he was: half German, related to Hans Lunden, a known Nazi. And why do you think Rudolf, a personal friend of Werner Gerlach, wasn’t immediately deported? Why do you think father and son aren’t sitting in internment camps in Britain right now?’
‘What do mean?’ asked Thorson.
‘Use your heads,’ said Brynhildur.
‘Rudolf’s a sick man,’ said Thorson. ‘The journey would have finished him off. The old man wouldn’t have posed any real threat. You said so yourself: he’d turned his back on Nazism.’
‘Don’t be so naive,’ said Brynhildur. ‘As if they’d have cared a damn if Rudolf had dropped dead on the voyage to Britain. It would simply have meant one less Nazi to worry about.’
‘Then what are you…?’
‘Instead of arresting Felix and deporting him, they decided to make use of him,’ said Brynhildur.
‘Make use of him?’
‘Felix is convinced that the British have been using him to transmit information they wanted the enemy to know. I don’t know how he came to this conclusion, but he thinks somebody exposed him. And that the person in question is based in Germany and is vital to the British. That’s why Felix is so terrified. Why he thinks Eyvindur was shot with a bullet that was meant for him. That’s why he’s gone into hiding and is afraid to give himself up.’
The Shadow Killer Page 26
