‘He thinks the British are after him?’ asked Thorson.
Brynhildur nodded. ‘Those were his words,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t know how many people are involved.’
‘And you believe him?’ asked Flóvent.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Brynhildur. ‘I don’t know what to believe any more. Felix has said a number of things that I can’t begin to understand. He’s very isolated and paranoid and his ideas are becoming more and more outlandish because he doesn’t know exactly what’s happened or why it’s happened or where to turn or how he’s ended up in this mess. But there’s one claim he’s made consistently, right from the first, and that’s about Eyvindur.’
‘That he was shot by mistake?’
‘Yes. That Eyvindur took a bullet intended for him. He’s desperate for it to be known that he didn’t harm Eyvindur. He wants his father to know that.’
‘Do you know where Felix is?’ Thorson said once more.
‘No,’ said Brynhildur. ‘I don’t. You could try asking Rudolf. But I don’t know if there’s any point. They … they have rather a tricky relationship, as I’ve said before. Felix hates his father, but it’s as if he longs for his recognition more than anything else in the world. And Rudolf may have turned against his son to a degree, but, on the other hand, there’s no one more concerned about him. That’s the only suggestion I can offer. Otherwise I can’t help you. You’ll have to find him for yourselves.’
They sensed that she was genuinely uncertain of his whereabouts.
‘I don’t know what to make of Felix,’ she went on after a moment. ‘I have to admit. The thing about him is … I pity him and I want to try to understand and help him. I thought I could do that by hiding him. I could tell how frightened he was and believed that he was the victim of circumstances beyond his control. But, on the other hand, he can be…’
‘Cruel?’
‘Ever since he was a boy, Felix has been involved in a struggle with his father that has poisoned his life. Whether it’s a struggle for understanding or affection or recognition, I don’t know. I have a feeling he would go pretty far to earn his father’s regard. And he has no qualms about tricking or betraying people to get what he wants. I expect being a salesman suited him. He’s extraordinarily good at convincing people of his worth. No one’s more cunning when it comes to selling himself than Felix Lunden.’
Flóvent stood up.
‘This is all very well,’ he said, ‘Felix’s fantasies, your attempts to protect him. But I believe the matter’s much simpler and that you know it. I believe that everything you say is a deliberate attempt to deflect our attention from one simple fact: Eyvindur was going to expose the Lundens, and Felix decided to get rid of him as a favour to his father.’
49
When they emerged from the interview room, Thorson was told that he was wanted on the phone in the prison governor’s office. A fellow MP was on the line with news of Billy Wiggins. The sergeant had been released after his interview with Thorson earlier that day, but while waiting for a lift back to Hvalfjördur he had got into an altercation outside Hótel Borg and been arrested for drunk and disorderly behaviour. Later, once he had calmed down and promised to clean his act up, the police had driven him back to his barracks at Camp Knox.
‘Is everything under control now?’ Thorson asked the police officer. ‘And if so, what’s the reason for the call?’
‘They said he’d mentioned your name when he started going nuts.’
‘My name?’
‘He kept saying he wanted to kill you, but the boys didn’t take any notice because he was crazy drunk. Called you some pretty ugly names. I’m not going to repeat them out loud, but apparently he threatened to rip your head off. The boys are starting to regret that they didn’t make him sleep it off at the station. They said he was pretty wild at first. Then he calmed down, and they took him back to his barracks. They just wanted you to know.’
‘Thanks,’ said Thorson. ‘The trouble outside Hótel Borg – what was that all about? Who was he fighting?’
‘Some GIs. He starting calling them a bunch of poofs – faggots, you know – and they went for him. Some British soldiers intervened and brought him in, so luckily it didn’t turn into a serious incident. We’re all supposed to be on the same side.’
Thorson relayed the news to Flóvent and asked if they were going to do anything more about Felix that night. Flóvent said probably not, but he was going to drive by Rudolf’s house on the way home, just to make sure all was quiet.
‘What’s the matter with Wiggins?’ asked Flóvent.
‘He’s a goddamn fool,’ said Thorson. ‘What did you think of the stuff Brynhildur just told us? Is she trying to be straight with us now?’
‘It looks like it. If her suspicions are correct, then Felix has got himself into a serious jam. That’s probably as good a reason as any other for why he’s gone into hiding and daren’t show his face. But I can’t work out what’s true and what’s not. All this stuff about spies and assassins and traitors. We’re just not used to that kind of thing here. We’ve never dealt with an investigation on this scale.’
‘Let alone engaged in espionage yourselves,’ said Thorson.
‘Quite,’ said Flóvent. ‘I suppose that’s why Felix has got himself into such a mess. He doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing. And he’s in way over his head.’
‘You’re probably right.’
‘This is more your department than mine, Thorson. You’d better talk to your people right away.’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll see to it.’
‘Mind you, if there’s any truth to what Felix told Brynhildur – if he’s considered a risk to someone within your ranks – perhaps you shouldn’t go talking to just anyone. You’ll have to watch what you say and who you speak to. It’ll be almost impossible to keep a story like this under wraps. Supposing it isn’t just some fantasy and there really is a man using Felix to feed the Germans false information, it would be a big deal for your people.’
‘That’s for sure,’ said Thorson. ‘It’s just a shame Felix is so slippery. I don’t know if we can believe a word he says.’
They parted company, and Thorson decided to drive out to Camp Knox before going to bed, just to check that everything was quiet in Billy Wiggins’s hut. He wasn’t too worried about Wiggins making good on his threats: that was just the booze talking. Although Thorson didn’t like the guy, he wasn’t particularly scared of him. He had requested a background check on the sergeant to see if he’d ever had a brush with the law in Britain or had a record as a troublemaker in the army. Thorson was also anxious to find out if he was married, maybe even a father. He wouldn’t be the first soldier to tell his Icelandic girlfriend that he was a bachelor when the truth was very different.
The Nissen huts, with their semi-cylindrical roofs and small windows, stood in rows along muddy tracks named after places at home. Thorson already knew which one was Billy’s. As he passed the hut, he saw two soldiers smoking under the large outdoor light over the door. Thorson hadn’t seen them before. This part of the camp was reserved for NCOs, and the huts were roomier and more comfortable than the privates’ barracks. Thorson couldn’t see Billy Wiggins anywhere. He halted the jeep, switched off the engine and said good evening to the two men.
‘That didn’t take you long,’ one called, as Thorson jumped out of the jeep and walked over to them.
‘Long?’ queried Thorson, unsure what the man meant.
‘To get here.’
‘Get here?’
‘I’ve just come off the phone to police headquarters,’ said the man, grinding his cigarette butt under his heel. ‘I don’t know where he went, but he was blind drunk. He didn’t stop after you lot brought him round. Didn’t go to bed. Just got hold of a bottle from the hut next door and carried on drinking and cursing the bloody Yanks. He was pissed out of his mind when he stormed out of here.’
‘Who are you talking about?’ asked Thorson, suspecting the w
orst.
‘Billy, of course,’ said the soldier. ‘Sergeant Wiggins. I just stepped out to take a leak and he scarpered.’
‘He’s not here?’
‘No, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. He’s gone. I wouldn’t have troubled you, only I think he’s armed. I can’t find his gun. I checked because he was making all kinds of daft threats. I know where he usually keeps it, and it’s not there now. I’m afraid he’s planning to do something bloody stupid.’
Thorson raced back to his jeep. He had to find Billy Wiggins before he got too far from the camp.
‘Any idea where he was heading?’ he called back to the soldiers.
‘No, I don’t know if he was going back into town to find those Yanks or to meet a woman or…’
Thorson leapt into the jeep and gunned the engine.
‘A woman?’
‘I dunno…’
‘What woman?’ yelled Thorson. ‘What woman was he talking about?’
‘The girl he’s been seeing,’ shouted the soldier. ‘The woman who takes in washing. He was pissed off about something she’d done and kept ranting on and on, saying that he’d sacrificed everything for her.’
‘Do you know what she was supposed to have done?’
‘No, but the bastard was hopping mad. Beside himself with rage.’
Thorson slammed the jeep into gear and scanned the camp, looking west towards the sea where Vera’s laundry stood. There was a faint light in the upstairs window, and he was overwhelmed with the horrible sensation, familiar from his nightmares, that however fast he went, he’d be too late.
50
There were no lights in the windows of the pebble-dash house when Flóvent drove up. He assumed Rudolf must be sound asleep and couldn’t decide if he should disturb him now or wait until morning. He walked softly up the path to the house but wasn’t aware of any movements around him. The street was quiet. All the neighbours seemed to be in bed, and there was no traffic to break the silence. Flóvent found the front door locked. He stole round the side of the house and noticed that the back door was slightly ajar. There was no sign of a forced entry, no damage that he could see in the dark. It appeared that someone had simply failed to close the door properly behind them.
Flóvent dithered for a moment, then warily pushed at the door. It opened noiselessly to reveal a small passage leading to the kitchen. He strained his ears but could hear no sounds in the house, so he tiptoed towards Rudolf’s study and peered inside. There was a figure silhouetted against the paler rectangle of the window. Flóvent immediately recognised the outline of Rudolf’s wheelchair.
‘Rudolf?’ he whispered.
‘Who’s there?’
‘The garden door was open. It looked as if someone had broken in,’ Flóvent said, in an attempt to excuse his presence. ‘It’s Flóvent. From the police.’
The wheelchair creaked and to Flóvent’s astonishment the man stood up, walked over to the desk and switched on a lamp. The light bathed his face in a warm radiance. Flóvent had only seen him for a split second before, but he knew immediately who he was. Their paths had crossed once before in the old surgery on Hafnarstræti.
‘Felix!’
‘I hope you’ve recovered after what happened in the surgery,’ said Felix. ‘I didn’t know who you were and thought I might have to defend myself so I just grabbed the first thing that came to hand and hid in the wardrobe.’
‘Are you armed?’
‘No. I don’t have any weapons on me,’ said Felix, raising his arms as proof. ‘I’m not going to cause any trouble. I’d been planning to give myself up after I’d had a chat with my father. You’ve nothing to fear. I’m the one who should be afraid. How did the police know I was here?’
‘We didn’t know you were here.’ Flóvent walked over to the desk. Felix didn’t protest when the detective frisked him for weapons. ‘I just wanted to check on Rudolf. Where is he?’
‘Asleep,’ said Felix. ‘I was about to go in and wake him up when you appeared. I wanted to say goodbye. I’m not sure I’ll ever see him again.’
‘After you’re tried, you mean?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Do you really think someone is trying to kill you? Brynhildur said –’
‘I’m not sure she’s in a position to tell you much,’ said Felix.
His calm and collected manner was at odds with Brynhildur’s description of a man descending into neurosis and paranoia. Flóvent guessed this was because he had made up his mind to surrender. Perhaps he was experiencing a certain serenity now that he’d decided to let go. His voice was tired, he looked pale and haggard in the lamplight, his eyes were dull and his thick dark hair was unkempt. He had a long face with small, slightly prominent eyes, thick lips and dark stubble covering his jaw. He was dressed in dark clothes and wore a thin jumper under his jacket.
‘She’s told us what she can – about you and your theories about what happened,’ said Flóvent.
‘I didn’t shoot Eyvindur,’ said Felix. ‘You’ve got to understand that. It wasn’t me.’
‘Then why didn’t you come forward and tell us that instead of going into hiding?’
‘Do you think it’s that simple? I’ve no idea who to trust any longer. For all I knew, they could have planted evidence against me. I don’t know what Brynhildur’s told you, but we discussed it a great deal and she … she helped me, but she hasn’t done anything wrong.’
‘Who could have planted evidence? What are you talking about?’
‘They’re working against me,’ said Felix. ‘Trying to make me look suspicious. You’ve got to understand that.’
‘Who?’
‘The people who’ve been using me all along.’
‘Who are they?’
‘I thought I’d got lucky,’ said Felix bitterly. ‘I should have been more careful, but I didn’t realise that until it was too late. Someone must have shopped me. Someone who knew what I was doing. Someone ostensibly on our side. Someone in the German secret service.’
‘German…?’
‘What has Brynhildur told you?’
‘Who do you think shopped you?’
‘It wasn’t…’
‘Have you come here to ask Rudolf about that?’
‘No, it … he knew absolutely nothing about it.’
‘Was it Eyvindur, then? He worked out that you weren’t just a travelling salesman but something else altogether. Felix Rúdólfsson. Did he hear you use your alias? Was that why you shot him?’
‘I didn’t shoot Eyvindur.’
‘Did you kill him out of revenge?’
‘I didn’t touch him,’ said Felix. ‘It wasn’t my fault. I’m completely innocent.’
Flóvent suddenly remembered his conversation with Rikki’s mother. ‘Isn’t that what you said when Rikki died?’
‘Rikki?’
‘Don’t you remember Rikki?’
‘What’s he got to do with this?’
‘We know about the research your father was doing behind closed doors. We know about the boys he was observing. We know about your role in the whole thing. About Eyvindur and Jósep and Rikki. How you and your father tormented Rikki until he threw himself off a roof. You had some kind of hold over those boys, and you deliberately exploited their weaknesses and their miserable family circumstances to humiliate or flatter them, according to your whim.’
‘Have you been talking to Jósep?’
‘He doesn’t paint a very pretty picture of you.’
‘You know Jósep’s a drunk who tried to blackmail my father for money? Him and Eyvindur. You should take all that with a pinch of salt. Rikki didn’t need any help from me. He was stupid enough to do it all on his own.’
‘You told him he could fly. For all Jósep knows, you may have deliberately pushed him. He can’t say for sure. He doesn’t know if you meant to take things that far, but the fact is you lied to Rikki and dared him to do it. Just like you dared the other boys to do whatever you wante
d them to. You goaded him until he jumped. Perhaps he didn’t need any help from you, but he certainly got it.’
Felix’s face betrayed no emotion.
‘Was Rudolf behind it?’
‘You shouldn’t –’
‘He abandoned his research straight afterwards. He packed you off to Denmark, desperate to get you out of the way as fast as possible.’
‘Did Brynhildur tell you that?’
‘Then years later, when you bumped into Eyvindur on your sales trips, you couldn’t resist. Maybe he got on your nerves. Maybe you were drunk. But you couldn’t resist, could you? You talked about the experiments. About Jósep and Eyvindur and Rikki and the other boys, who you described as your father’s guinea pigs. You blurted it all out, doubtless to humiliate him. No change there. Eyvindur talked to Jósep. They remembered what had happened to Rikki, so they wrote your father a threatening letter. He was so upset that he burnt it.’
‘It was so easy…’ Felix shook his head. ‘Of course, none of them were very bright,’ he said. ‘None of them. And I soon discovered that I could make them do whatever I wanted. It’s a unique sensation. To have that kind of power over people.’
‘What did you give him? A hallucinatory drug?’
‘I didn’t think he’d do it.’
‘Was it –?’
‘Look, I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.’
‘Was that why Eyvindur came round to see you? Because of the letter? Had you arranged to meet? We know Eyvindur was boasting about coming into some money. Were you going to pay him off? Talk to your father? Make it all go away?’
‘Eyvindur was in the wrong place at the wrong time,’ said Felix. ‘Typical of him. He wasn’t the one they meant to shoot. The British made a mistake. The man they sent round to my place couldn’t tell us apart. That’s how professional they were. I expected better of them.’
The Shadow Killer Page 27
