Trap

by Lilja Sigurdardóttir

  Adam caught Jóhann’s eye. ‘Fair enough,’ he said after a pause. ‘I don’t know how you reckon you’ll be able to do anything for Ingimar – anything that’ll satisfy his people. It’s not as if we’re talking small potatoes here.’

  Agla smiled. That was quite right. The money they had borrowed was no small change. In the original scenario everything had looked watertight, but the loan had turned out to be the killer. The gamble could have given the three of them a golden future, been wonderful for the bank and have left their creditors unharmed – if only it had worked out. But it hadn’t, and they had all learned from bitter experience that the only thing more important than being careful who you lent money to was being careful who you borrowed it from.

  ‘The less we know the better, I guess,’ Jóhann said and Agla nodded.

  She got to her feet. Her body felt heavy and drained of energy by the heat, as if the flesh were about to drop from her bones.

  ‘If you fuck this up, Agla…’ Adam said, speaking to her back.

  She turned to look into his eyes. ‘I don’t fuck things up, Adam. I know who Ingimar is. I know what he’s capable of. So fucking this up isn’t on the agenda.’

  Adam had nothing more to say, so she nodded to Jóhann, who was by now lobster-red and puffed in the heat, and steadied herself on the handrail as she left the tub, feeling faint as she felt the cold again.

  21

  Tómas followed his father into the bathroom and watched him hang up his swimming trunks and towel.

  ‘Did you go swimming?’ he asked in astonishment, feeling the disappointment grow in his belly. Going swimming was one of his favourite things and one of the few he genuinely enjoyed doing with his father. ‘Why couldn’t I come as well?’

  ‘I just had a short meeting in the hot tub with people I needed to speak to,’ his father replied.

  Tómas stamped off into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. ‘You’re lying!’ he yelled. ‘You don’t have meetings at the swimming pool. You just don’t want me to go with you because I went to Florida with Mum!’

  He heard his father walk along the corridor and stop by his door, knocking softly before he opened it.

  ‘I’m not angry with you because you went with her,’ he said as he came in. ‘I’m angry with your Mum. But that’s not your fault.’

  He stepped on a Lego brick and winced, then swept the bricks aside with his foot before sitting on the edge of Tómas’s bed. He put out a hand and stroked his back, but Tómas shook him off. ‘Don’t be like that, Tómas,’ his father said in an almost begging tone, but Tómas’s anger erupted again.

  ‘You let that horrible man tie us up!’ he shouted, curling himself up in a corner of the bed, feet towards his father.

  ‘No, Tómas! I asked them to go and get you. I had no idea they would tie you up. That’s the truth, the complete truth…’ He took hold of Tómas’s feet and held them tight as Tómas’s fury turned to helplessness. ‘Tómas, I would never, ever, want anyone to tie you up.’

  ‘And all my stuff that was left in the trailer?’ Tómas sniffed. ‘When do I get it back?’

  ‘What stuff is it that you’re missing so much?’ his father asked.

  ‘All sorts. My exercise books, the cigar box with the football pictures and my basketball. The best type of basketball. Duncan said so.’

  ‘We can buy you a new basketball here, Tommi. That’s no problem. And we can get exercise books in any bookshop.’

  Dad clearly didn’t understand. He didn’t understand that some things are important, and of course he had never seen the cigar box and all the work that had gone into decorating it with shells. Mum was the one who understood that kind of thing.

  Dad pulled him close and although Tómas tried to resist to begin with, there was something comforting about giving way and lying in his father’s arms, feeling his hand pat his back rhythmically as he sobbed until his heart became calmer and everything seemed a little easier than before. All the same, he would have preferred to have been with Mum, and as he thought back to how they had left her at the airport, dressed in clothes for hot weather, the anger again swelled inside him.

  ‘I want to go to Mum,’ he said, wriggling out of his father’s embrace. ‘I want to go to Mum now.’

  His father shook his head. ‘We have to wait and see, Tómas,’ he said. ‘You have to understand that I can’t trust your mother not to disappear with you again.’

  ‘I don’t understand anything!’ Tómas yelled, jumping to his feet. ‘You’re just bad. I want to go to Mum!’

  22

  It had been a strange day, and that was putting it mildly. She felt that it had been an age ago when she had stood in a pair of shorts outside the airport terminal with no idea what to do next. Now her life seemed to be back on some kind of track, and although there might not be all that strong a chance that her plan would work out, at least she had one. That was the important thing.

  Since her old life – her aimless, undefined existence – had crashed down around her, she had always tried to maintain some kind of goal. Bitter experience had taught her that, if she didn’t set her own path, then others would do it for her – and she had already had enough of that. Although she was still embroiled in trouble, forced to do what Adam wanted her to, deep inside herself, she had set a course with a definite outcome – one which Adam would be far from happy with. It included her and Tómas secure in a little flat somewhere. It didn’t matter where, as long as it was somewhere she would look forward to waking up in the mornings and where they could play and be silly, and she would be able to go to sleep with him every night without having to worry about his safety or wellbeing.

  She had been running away for so long, fighting a desperate rearguard action, constantly afraid of being swallowed whole by a world that she feared so much, and from which she could never completely tear herself free. It was as if every time she was sure she was about to escape the trap, she was again snared in its mesh, which held her even tighter than it had before. But now she was going to mark time. She was going to stop running. It was time to turn around, look fear in the face and swim back into the net. Somewhere in that tangle had to be the way out.

  She had just arrived home and closed the door to her flat behind her, when there was a soft knock, and she knew it was Agla.

  Hell, she thought to herself, knowing it was inevitable that she would invite her in, and they would find their way into bed. And in the time it took her to open the door, she put aside the decision she had made before she left for Florida: the decision to keep away from Agla. It was either her exhausted mind’s fault, or else some need to give in to her urges – to admit to the spark of passion she had felt ignite again in the car on the way from the airport, when Agla had put her hand on her thigh.

  As soon as Agla leaned forwards and hesitatingly kissed her, Sonja threw aside all the old disappointments and the arguments that had stemmed from secrets and jealousy, and passionately returned her embrace. Right now she needed Agla so much, needed her earnestness, her gratitude and those hot hands that would roam across her as only she knew how.

  ‘You don’t know how much I’ve missed you,’ Agla whispered, kneeling in front of her, her trembling hands rolling up her shirt. ‘I almost died, I missed you so much,’ she said, burying her face between her breasts, too eager, too desperate, and sucking so hard that Sonja had to shush her to dampen her ardour.

  ‘I missed you too, my sweet,’ she whispered into Agla’s hair, as always stiff to the touch with too much hair spray. ‘I missed you too.’

  23

  ‘Who’s the guy?’ Agla whispered into the ear of the sleeping Sonja. She had slept like a log through the night and once she had woken had lain still, relishing the sound of Sonja’s breathing, inching closer to her, to bask in the delightful warmth of her skin. But now she was in the mood to talk. A day ago, life had done a complete about-face, and it was a long time – before the financial crash in fact – since she had had such a
feeling of optimism. Her mind was clear and cool and she had a detailed plan in mind of how to put Ingimar’s proposition into practice. It was complicated and would mean some work, but it could be done. She had to admit to herself that it would even be fun. This kind of work was what sparked her imagination, tested her mind and boosted her selfconfidence. She had not had to do anything that challenged her since before the crash – initially because, after it, everyone at the bank mistrusted her, and subsequently, when she had become a person of interest to the investigation, she had resigned to spare the new director having to fire her. But now things were looking brighter. Now she would have work to do. While the boys had shivered with fear in the hot tub at the mention of Ingimar’s name, she was not frightened. Instead, it triggered tension, and tension had always been the fuel that she ran on best.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Sonja mumbled, her eyes still closed.

  ‘I was asking which of us is the guy…’

  Sonja sighed deeply, turned to face Agla and the familiar look in her eyes meant she had something to tease her with.

  ‘I’m the guy,’ she said. ‘I wear jeans more often than you do. You’re more of a lipstick lesbian.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘A lipstick lesbian.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Count the amount of cosmetics in our bathrooms and you’ll see which of us is the guy.’

  ‘Isn’t that just because I’m older? I didn’t use so much make-up when I was young.’

  ‘No, it’s because you’re the woman. So I’m the guy.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Agla asked. This had somehow taken her by surprise. ‘How do you know which of us is the guy?’

  ‘You can check our wardrobes as well,’ Sonja said, getting out of bed and opening her wardrobe door. ‘Compare this to yours and you don’t have to even ask which of us is the guy.’

  She left the room and Agla sat up in bed, taking in the sparse contents of Sonja’s wardrobe. It was true that Sonja didn’t have many clothes, but she had always ascribed that to the fact she was badly off. Her own wardrobe was undeniably better filled, even though half of the contents were in a pile on the floor, waiting to be taken to the dry cleaner’s.

  ‘There’s nothing here,’ Sonja called from the kitchen. ‘No bread, no coffee, nothing.’

  ‘How do you feel about breakfast in Luxembourg?’ Agla asked, standing in the doorway.

  ‘Yes, please,’ Sonja said, closing the fridge and sniggering.

  ‘I’m not kidding,’ Agla said. ‘I have to go there for work and it would be fun if you could come with me.’ Sonja looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. ‘It would be wonderful, Sonja, I promise. I’ll call now and tell Jean-Claude to clean the flat and stock up the fridge…’

  ‘What?’ Sonja interrupted. ‘Who is Jean-Claude? And what flat?’

  ‘My flat. Jean-Claude lives downstairs and he cleans for me.’

  ‘You have a flat in Luxembourg?’ Sonja stared at her in disbelief. ‘And maybe millions and trillions in bank accounts around the world? Is what the papers say about you true?’

  ‘Well, not all of it,’ Agla said awkwardly, and coughed.

  ‘Christ,’ Sonja said and shook her head, while Agla wondered if it was in surprise or disgust. Surprise, she hoped.

  Agla went back to the bedroom and searched around for her clothes. Two buttons were missing from her silk blouse, casualties of the previous evening’s passion. She straightened her hair with her fingers and went into the bathroom, where Sonja was washing her face.

  ‘Come on. Come with me,’ she beseeched. The thought of time abroad with Sonja was irresistible, somewhere where nobody knew them, nobody would stare at them on the street, and nobody would care what they were doing together.

  ‘I can’t,’ Sonja said. ‘I have to work.’

  ‘You’re going back to the computer business? Is that what you need to do?’

  ‘Yes,’ Sonja said in a low voice and a shadow of a scowl passed across her face. ‘That’s what I need to do.’

  Agla pulled her close and kissed her.

  ‘You know…’ she began, and wondered how to put what she wanted to say into the right words; ‘…that, well … I can always help financially if you get bored with this work.’

  Sonja pulled away. ‘I know that, Agla,’ she snapped, suddenly upset, seemingly close to anger. ‘I can look after myself! As I’ve told you many times before.’

  Agla put up her hands. ‘Okay, okay. No need to be angry.’ She wrapped her arms around Sonja and pressed her close. ‘A whole weekend in Luxembourg. Just you and me,’ she whispered and felt Sonja soften in her arms. ‘The two of us, together.’

  ‘You’re different,’ Sonja said, pushing her away and looking at her curiously. ‘You’re happier.’

  Agla felt a warm flush. It was incredible how Sonja could read her feelings. ‘It’s … well, let’s say I’ve been offered a business opportunity that I’m happy with,’ she said, hoping that Sonja wouldn’t ask for any details.

  ‘Bank stuff?’

  ‘Yes. Bank stuff,’ Agla said and smiled.

  ‘It’s good to see you happy.’ Sonja slapped a blob of face cream onto her cheek and began working it in. ‘But I can’t go to Luxembourg with you.’

  ‘I hardly dare say it, but if you’re short of cash for the flight…’

  ‘Hell … Out, Agla,’ Sonja barked at her. ‘I’ve told you once already.’

  24

  Bragi was waiting with impatience when at last Atli Thór, his protégé and favourite colleague, came into the surveillance room and handed him the passenger list from the Analysis team. He took the sheets of paper and, trying to hide his excitement, he scanned it for a particular name – the one that Sonja had handed him on a creased slip of paper.

  ‘Aren’t you going to read it properly?’ Atli Thór asked, before his attention became focused on the coffee machine. Not only had it run out of beans, but the drawer that took the coffee grounds was full, so getting a cup of coffee was an undertaking. ‘What was wrong with the old coffee machine?’ he sighed. ‘This lousy bean-munching apparatus that shits coffee grounds just demands constant attention. It’s a job and a half to get a dribble of coffee out of it.’

  Bragi grinned at his bad temper. The new coffee machine was yet another example of modern life to which he made a point of paying no notice. He had no intention of learning how to work this piece of equipment, with its menu of options and the array of warning lights that always lit up every time someone wanted a cup of coffee. Ever since the old machine had been replaced Bragi simply made his own old-fashioned coffee at home and brought it to work in a thermos. With only a few months to go before retirement, it was hardly worth taking the time to learn how to use the new one.

  While Atli Thór struggled manfully with the coffee machine, Bragi went through the list, but didn’t see the name, not on his shift nor the next day’s. But there was no reason to despair. It was impossible to tell how often this courier travelled, and although Sonja seemed to travel twice each month, there was no certainty that this other person did the same. Bragi plucked a pen from his shirt pocket and circled a few names at random.

  ‘Searches?’ Atli Thór asked and Bragi nodded.

  ‘Just at random,’ he said. ‘We could just as easily take one in every twenty.’ He was about to hand the list back when he noticed that there was another sheet he had not seen behind the ones he had been through. This was the list for the Greenland flight, which the Analysis team always sent to their colleagues there, already checked and marked. For some reason this list of passengers leaving the country had found its way to Bragi with the arrivals list, probably by pure coincidence; if there was any such thing as coincidence. There on the list was the name that had been on the slip of paper Sonja had handed him and which he had committed to memory: Axel Jónsson. As usual, the Greenland flight was not due to leave from the international airport at Keflavík, departing instea
d from Reykjavík’s domestic airport, tomorrow morning.

  25

  Tómas felt his stomach ache as he walked home from school. It was as if there was a huge bruise inside his belly. It was as well that it was Thursday, because tomorrow would be Friday and after that was the weekend, and by Monday he hoped the curiosity of the other kids in the class would have faded away. They asked endlessly about Florida, and why he had been away so long and why his father had come to the school looking for him and yelled at the teacher. But Tómas had no answers to give them, and just muttered something unintelligible.

  When he got home, he found his father on the steps outside, with Teddy on a lead.

  ‘Are you going for a walk?’

  ‘No,’ his father answered. ‘I have an errand to run.’

  ‘Where? And why are you taking Teddy?’ Tómas stared quizzically at his father, who looked awkward.

  ‘I … well, I’m going to let my friend have Teddy for a little while. Because he’s so good at finding things.’

  ‘Can I come too?’ Tómas asked, dropping his school bag in the hall, ready to go.

  ‘No, that’s not possible,’ his father said, setting off for the car and pulling the dog along with him. ‘Dísa is indoors. She’ll look after you.’

  Tómas stared and felt the bruise inside his belly grow. Dísa was his father’s girlfriend and she was all right, but he would still prefer to go with him and the dog.

  ‘Why can’t I come?’ he wailed. ‘You always leave me out!’

  He saw his father shake his head as he made for the car, opened a rear door and Teddy jumped inside. He thought it was stupid that first his father went swimming and left him behind, and then he wanted to go for a drive with the dog, leaving him behind again. There were few things dearer to Tómas than swimming and the dog. This was deeply unfair.