‘Isn’t that rather far-fetched?’ Matthew straightened up as the clip finished. ‘It’s probably something related to the joke, or an employee of Berg.’
‘We can find out.’ Thóra stood up. ‘It would be best to have Friðrikka and Eyjólfur look at it. Since it was uploaded on the same day that Oddný Hildur disappeared, they would both have been on site, and I’m guessing that everyone followed this blog.’
‘Everyone but Arnar,’ said Matthew. ‘He would hardly have been waiting with bated breath for the next entry.’
‘No, hardly. We have to speak to him. It seems to me that if he tells us what could get him to return to work, it would be child’s play to persuade the other workers to do the same.’
Chapter 26
22 March 2008
Friðrikka and Eyjólfur watched the video without a word until the very end, when the figure appeared outside the window. ‘What was that?’ said Eyjólfur.
‘We were hoping you could tell us,’ said Thóra. They were all grouped together in front of the computer. Alvar and Bella were standing at the back but tried to peek over the others’ shoulders. ‘Haven’t you seen the video before? It looks as if it was made the day that Oddný Hildur disappeared.’
‘I vaguely remember it but I don’t think I watched it all the way to the end.’ Eyjólfur rubbed his forehead as if to reactivate his memory. ‘If I remember correctly this came in an e-mail from either Bjarki or Dóri, but it was sent just before supper so I didn’t open it until the next day. There was so much going on because of Oddný Hildur’s disappearance that I only looked at it for a second. At least, if I did watch the whole video I didn’t notice that thing in the window. And I didn’t feel inclined to watch the clip on their blog because I don’t look at every single post.’
‘How about you?’ Matthew turned to Friðrikka. ‘Do you recognize this?’
‘No. Like Eyjólfur said, I had other things to think about when I got the e-mail. And I didn’t even open it when I saw it was just more of their nonsense. They were always putting up some rubbish or other and I was in no mood for their childish humour. I certainly remember receiving the e-mail, because it struck me how inappropriate their jokes could be at times.’
‘Well, obviously they didn’t know what was around the corner when they sent this out,’ said Eyjólfur sharply. ‘It would have been different if they had sent it out the next day, when we’d discovered that Oddný Hildur was gone.’
Thóra interrupted in order to prevent yet another argument between Eyjólfur and Friðrikka. ‘But do you have any idea of what this is in the window? Is it one of you who worked there, or an outsider?’ She added quickly: ‘What I mean is, do you remember the video being discussed the day after it was sent; maybe someone mentioned having taken part in the joke?’
They both shook their heads. ‘We didn’t talk about it,’ said Friðrikka, ‘and I sincerely doubt that any others were in on it. It was always just the two of them.’
Eyjólfur seemed put out that Friðrikka was doing the talking. ‘None of us was at the window and the smokers’ room was a long way from any paths. You’d only be approaching that window if you specifically wanted to look in, for some reason. Actually, you can’t see the person very clearly but I would be very surprised if it was one of us. We appreciated the heat indoors too much to be messing around outside in the cold. Also, it looks as if this person has something weird on his head and covering his face and that doesn’t fit either. I mean, why would any of us do that?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe to scare the men?’ Thóra rewound the video slightly and stopped it at the point where the figure had gone and the streak was left behind on the windowpane. ‘Do you remember maybe seeing this streak on the window?’
Both Friðrikka and Eyjólfur moved closer. ‘No, not when Oddný Hildur disappeared.’ Eyjólfur straightened up. ‘Bjarki said he’d found dried blood on the window, but that was a bit later. Of course we would have wanted to take a look at it if it had been connected with her disappearance. He noticed it when he went into the room to smoke and thought it had been made by a bird that had flown into the window. He was asking us whether we’d heard some sort of thud. I can’t remember exactly when that happened but it wasn’t while we were searching. That was when we spent the least amount of time in the office building.’
‘So that streak could well be the same one that appeared in the video,’ said Matthew. ‘If you weren’t in the office building much, the smokers’ room would have been empty. And if the window is far from the paths between the buildings, as you were saying, then the streak couldn’t have been seen except from inside.’
Friðrikka paled. ‘Do you think that it’s blood from Oddný Hildur?’
‘Hardly, if the e-mail was sent before supper. Wasn’t she with you at supper?’ As far as Thóra could recall, Oddný Hildur had last been observed when she ate with the others. After that she’d either gone to her apartment or over to the office building and never been seen again.
‘Yes, but I couldn’t say whether the e-mail had come by then. It could just as well have gone out later in the evening. Sometimes people went over to the office building to work or surf the Internet in the evenings.’ Eyjólfur sat down at the computer and brought up some information about the video, including when it was created. ‘If you want, I can ask someone at my company to look at this and check whether the image can be sharpened. Then maybe we can see better what it is.’
‘Who would do that? We don’t really want to draw attention to this,’ said Matthew.
‘We’ve got dozens of programmers working for us and they’re not in the habit of running to the media with the work assigned to them.’ Eyjólfur shrugged. ‘It was just an idea; it would cost something, naturally, and it’s not one hundred per cent certain that it would work.’
Thóra looked at Matthew. ‘Doesn’t that sound like a good idea?’ Matthew agreed.
‘No problem, I’ll get someone on it tomorrow.’ Eyjólfur turned back to the screen and the information that he’d brought up about the video. ‘It was indeed made the day that Oddný Hildur disappeared, but before supper.’ He closed the window on the screen. ‘So this couldn’t be her blood unless someone was able to change the settings on the video camera to make it look as if it were an older file.’
‘That sounds like a stretch.’ Thóra couldn’t see why anyone would bother. It wasn’t as if this was spectacular evidence and if the intention was to cover up a foul deed it would be peculiar to smear the woman’s blood on the window.
‘What about the blood? Was it from a bird?’ Friðrikka was becoming more and more agitated. ‘And if not from a bird, then from whom? That’s no bird in the video. Maybe this person killed someone else. A villager or something, and then ambushed Oddný Hildur.’
‘We shouldn’t let our imaginations run away with us,’ Matthew said soothingly to her. ‘What we’ve seen is entirely unclear and there’s no reason for us to imagine the worst. It’s still most likely that Oddný Hildur got lost and that this clip has nothing to do with her disappearance. The natural environment at the work camp poses considerably more danger than anyone living there. By which I mean both you and the locals.’
‘I’ve always said that they were involved in this somehow. This is definitely one of them.’ Friðrikka pointed to the screen and her finger trembled. ‘What do we know of the strange reasons they might have for smearing blood everywhere? It could be anything. Maybe even a sacrifice, or something.’
‘The Inuits don’t offer sacrifices. In these kinds of cultures and communities people can’t afford to waste food or anything else on such nonsense.’ Alvar swayed slightly as he stood next to Bella, causing him to bump into her shoulder. She shoved him back irritably, making him rock on his feet even more. ‘This doesn’t have anything to do with sacrifices.’
Matthew cleared his throat. ‘How about you all go back to the bar and we postpone this discussion until tomorrow. We won’t come to any conclusions n
ow and there’s no need for us to lose ourselves completely in speculation that has no basis in reality.’
‘You can refuse to discuss this as much as you want.’ Friðrikka was the only one who seemed to be completely sober, apart from Matthew. ‘It doesn’t change the fact that until Oddný Hildur is discovered and an explanation found for what happened to her, I will continue to express my opinions. You can’t forbid me from doing so.’ She looked as if she were going to storm off.
‘How is it,’ asked Thóra, who had had enough of her fellow travellers, ‘that on the blog we saw another video that appears to have been created only to make fun of Arnar? Was Oddný Hildur really the only one who stuck up for him? Did the rest of you find that kind of behaviour acceptable?’
‘No, of course not.’ Eyjólfur looked into her eyes. ‘I wasn’t there much, otherwise I might have done something. At least, I think I would.’
Or not. Thóra turned to Friðrikka but decided not to waste time asking her about it a second time. She was sure she would receive the same answer. ‘Could Oddný Hildur have had two dental implants in her lower jaw?’
The unexpectedness of the question seemed to disarm Friðrikka enough to make her reply quite mildly. Or perhaps she was just glad not to have to justify the blind eye she had turned to the harassment. ‘No. Definitely not. She had really nice teeth.’
Matthew looked at Thóra and raised his eyebrows. Then who did the bones belong to? They weren’t from any of the employees of Berg Technology and it was out of the question that the original villagers who had starved to death had been decades ahead of their contemporaries in dentistry. Perhaps they had been purchased online after all. Hopefully the police would find the answer. ‘Do you think the employees can be convinced to return to work at the camp?’ Thóra was almost afraid to hear the answer. ‘Supposing the police find explanations for the disappearance of Oddný Hildur and the drillers, would the crew be satisfied? You must have spoken to them. Especially you, Eyjólfur.’
The young man apparently had some difficulty making up his mind about whether he would be betraying the confidence of his colleagues by talking about them. Finally he spoke, but slowly, seeming to weigh up every word. ‘Of course, it depends what comes out of the investigation. If the findings are that all three of them vanished or died because of something that can be easily explained and sorted out, it’s likely that they’d return. Jobs like these are hard to come by, and people get used to having high wages.’ He had started speaking faster now. ‘If, however, it turns out that something horrible happened to them, then I don’t know what will happen. Most people value their own hides more than money in the bank. I’m sure the other employees scheduled to arrive in the summer aren’t thinking much about these issues, though; they’ll be laying the runway and doing other construction jobs necessary for the mine.’
‘Why didn’t they start sooner?’ Alvar had moved away from Bella a bit and could now sway around as much as he wanted. ‘You’d have thought it would be wiser to have the airport ready for use immediately, for the transportation of raw materials and things like that. Not to mention the added security it provides in case something serious happens.’
‘That wasn’t possible,’ said Friðrikka sullenly. ‘First we had to get the results from the core samples so that we could situate the mine in an appropriate place. What use would it be having an airport here if the mine was in a completely different location?’
Alvar’s drunken brain did its best to process the information. ‘Yes, but . . .’ He said nothing more, and instead just went bright red. For the first time Thóra felt sorry for the man, and she wondered what his idea of a nice evening might be. What sort of company made him feel comfortable, and what topics of conversation interested him? Probably stories about lost ptarmigan hunters. It would hardly surprise Thóra if their investigation turned up one of those.
It seemed to Igimaq that the policemen were finally starting to go to bed, though several lights were still on in the camp. He hadn’t noticed any movement for a long time and the only sound that could be heard was the buzz of the electrical generators. He was still at some distance from the buildings because he did not want to set off the floodlights, but sounds carried well in the calm night air and he had heard the murmur of men’s voices while some of them were still up and about, without being able to distinguish what they said. But even if the men had gone to bed it did not change the fact that tomorrow was a new day and they would start up again. They had arrived in two groups: first came five men, but after the people who had been in the camp over the previous few days were evacuated, three others joined the five, this time with dogs. They were not sled dogs, and the hunter had trouble understanding what purpose they were supposed to serve. They didn’t appear to be pets, as were common in the cities, but rather working animals, although it wasn’t clear to him what they were capable of. They were short-haired and their ears too long and thin to be able to endure the weather for long periods, which was likely to be why they had been taken inside and hadn’t come out since. Igimaq was glad he had left his huskies sufficiently far away. They wouldn’t have let strange dogs waltz around without at least letting them know who was top dog in these parts.
Unlike his dogs, who were never in doubt as to how to react to new circumstances, Igimaq was stumped. What should he do? This is what happened when you trusted others. When he had first heard of the plans for the mine, his friend Sikki had promised him that the prohibited area would only be driven over – no work would be carried out there. Igimaq had believed him, despite the old familiar look in his eyes that suggested he was not telling the truth. When the camp started to be built on the outskirts of the area he had spoken again to Sikki and again been promised that it would be all right; he would tell those who came that they should not wander any further north, but instead keep themselves south of the camp. Again he had seen that look – nevertheless, Igimaq had chosen to believe what Sikki said rather than what his own eyes told him. Now the story had repeated itself a third time and although Igimaq should not have let himself be fooled, it was too late. There would be no turning back.
Had Igimaq dealt with this the first time he was lied to, things might have turned out differently. But just like his countrymen of the same generation, it simply ran contrary to his character and upbringing to argue or get worked up. It was an ancient custom; those who lived together in small groups could not afford discord, meaning that those who raised their voices or bickered with each other were looked down on. The only way to express one’s disapproval was to remain silent, because words spoken in anger had a way of snowballing, intensifying and provoking hostility that would eventually put the survival of the entire community at risk. The Greenlandic language was thus free of invective and Igimaq was not about to start swearing in Danish. He should have pushed the issue with Sikki, forced him to explain how he intended to keep the workers out of the area, even though such a discussion would have been against his upbringing.
He had also been taught to have immeasurable respect for his ancestors, and from them he had inherited the responsibility of keeping the area free of human activity. He and Sikki, his old friend. And now they had both failed. Igimaq could not lay all the blame on Sikki.
He tried to imagine what would happen next. He knew little about the police, since they were seldom seen in these parts. Through the years various things had happened that the police would undoubtedly have wanted to investigate, but the villagers were better suited to dealing with their own problems, evaluating them and determining guilt and innocence. And, most importantly, deciding on punishment for the guilty. More often than not it was enough for the offender to live with the shame of having done wrong, but Igimaq remembered one instance from his youth when a man who had murdered his son in a brutal manner and showed no remorse had been exiled from the area. News of him reached the village intermittently and it was always in the same vein: he was thrown out of one settlement after another when people found out who he
was. Finally no further news came of him and people said that he had died alone out in the wilderness. The police would never have dealt with the situation like this, but this solution was the only correct one. The man had no more business being in prison than any other Greenlander. Greenlanders were not to be locked up; that was just plain wrong. Igimaq would go crazy if he were denied the chance to breathe the cold, outside air and his eyes would go blind if they were deprived of the stimulation that the endless expanse of land granted him.
No, the police had no business here, even though the fact that four of them appeared to be his countrymen. They were doubtless more Danish than Greenlandic, probably from the west coast, and unfamiliar with the situation of the inhabitants on this side of the ice cap. None of them would understand Igimaq, or anyone else who knew the history of the place, and it was little use trying to explain it to them. They might even be the lowest form of Greenlanders: those who did not speak their own language, only Danish. Whether this was the case or not, these men would probably twist everything around and interpret it all the wrong way. It was perhaps wisest for him to leave; take his dogs and move even further north. He could easily lose them. It wouldn’t matter how hard they tried to find him; in the end they would give up. He had no trouble at all living far from any human settlement for months or even years at a time; he knew places that no one could reach except exceptionally experienced men on dogsleds. Snowmobiles were no match for these old vehicles when it came to long distances, and no one could assess situations in the same way as dogs. Igimaq himself would have ended up at the bottom of the sea long ago if he’d chosen to cross the ice on a motorized sled, because the dogs knew the ice and where it was sound. They heard cracks that the human ear could not distinguish and which could not be seen on the surface of the ice, but which were the predecessors of larger cracks that opened into the icy cold depths of the sea, and spared no one.
The Day is Dark Page 26
