"Sure?"
"Of course I"m sure. His name"s Baddo. He was in prison somewhere in Eastern Europe and was only recently released. I did a story about him a while ago because he didn"t want to be repatriated and finish his sentence in Iceland as people normally do. He fought quite hard not to be sent home and he also fought against being deported from wherever it was once he was released. I"m trying to remember what his real name is. I tried to get an interview with him once he was finally sent back to Iceland before Christmas, I think but he wouldn"t have it."
"Hrobjartur," Gunna supplied, her memory jogged back into gear. "Hrobjartur Bjarnthorsson."
"Yeah. Isn"t it a terrible name?" Skuli said with a smile. "It doesn"t get much more nineteenth century than Hrobjartur Bjarnthorsson. It"s like something out of Laxness. Now I"m wondering why you"re interested in him and if there"s anything you can tell me?"
"Not right away. He"s been snooping around a case I"m working on and I want to know why."
"This is about the thing at the Gullfoss? The shipowner who was found strapped to the bed?"
Gunna gave him another hard stare. "You don"t know anything about that, do you, Skuli? I"m not asking, by the way. I"m telling you that you haven"t heard anything, especially from me."
Skuli shrugged. "Fair enough. It"s not exactly something I can print in Reykjavik Voice. But I do shifts at Dagurinn, and they were knocking together Johannes Karlsson"s obituary last night. Nothing to worry about," he said hurriedly. "Just the usual c.r.a.p about which farm his grandparents came from and how many grandchildren he had."
Gunna started uncomfortably at the mention of grandchildren.
"Nothing about him paying a hooker to tie him to a bed in a smart hotel," Skuli added.
"There"d be h.e.l.l to pay if you did."
"But there are rumours."
"Like what?"
Skuli scratched his nose and looked about him theatrically, rea.s.suring himself that apart from the two of them, the only other person in the cafe was the proprietor, yawning behind his counter.
"There"s nothing concrete, but you know what Reykjavhik Voice is like. It"s seething with gossip. It seems that it"s the latest scam. Man books a kinky escort, she ties him up and disappears with his wallet after taking a couple of compromising photos, presumably as insurance. Simple as that. It seems one guy wanted his fun in the wardrobe, but she locked him inside it and stole his wallet. It"s been going on for a while and it"s all "somebody knows someone who heard something from . . ." You know?"
"Yeah. I know, Chinese whispers that don"t stand up in court."
"I thought it was just an urban myth until this thing at Hotel Gullfoss happened yesterday. Not that we journos know any more than the police," he said with a sly smile. "Although now some of us know that Bigfoot Baddo is involved. Not that we"d say a word out of place."
At lunchtime Joel Ingi went for sushi. It wasn"t something he did often, nor did he like it particularly, but the others enthused about the delights of raw fish and he joined the group of four at a small, smart place on Laugarvegur that had yet to become popular. Once it did, they would probably abandon it and find somewhere else, Joel Ingi thought, enjoying the unaccustomed slow pace of the meal, made slower by his lack of skill with chopsticks, which he did his best to disguise.
The two women in the group departed together for the restaurant"s bathroom, leaving Joel Ingi and Mar with Saevar, a translator from the next floor. Joel Ingi daydreamed as the other two talked British football, something he had never been able to muster interest in. Coffee arrived as the two women returned, and Katrin from the press office sat down opposite him and smiled. Joel Ingi liked her. Katrin had a sense of humour that seemed irrepressible. A short, round woman who he decided had never seen the inside of a gym in her life, she didn"t attract him in the same way that his wife"s spare, bony frame drove him wild, but there was no denying that Katrin was fun in a way that Agnes could never be.
Joel Ingi remained distant, answering the questions Katrin laughingly set him. Her friend, a wiry girl called Ursula, was definitely more his type, he felt. The only one of the group not from the ministry, she seemed reluctant to engage in conversation with him, apparently preferring to talk to Mar. Although he noticed her stealing the occasional glance his way.
"Hey, Joel Ingi," Katrin grinned as the waiter placed tiny cups of Icelandic coffee in front of them to smother the subtle sushi flavours. "Chelsea v Spurs on Sat.u.r.day. I"m sure you"ll be glued to that, won"t you?" she joked. "Spurs to win, you think?"
Joel Ingi lifted his eyes to smile back at her and shook his head, about to speak. But as he looked at her laughing eyes and past her through the restaurant windows, a familiar parka and baseball cap combination strolled along the opposite side of the street, stopped to look into a shop window and carried on.
"s.h.i.t! I was joking about the football," Katrin said in alarm as the colour drained from Joel Ingi"s face and the coffee cup stopped an inch from his lips.
Seconds after leaving Skuli so he could return to editing the next week"s TV listings, Gunna had her phone to her ear. She was relieved that the continuing snow promised by the deep grey clouds brooding a scant few feet above the rooftops of downtown Reykjavik was holding off releasing its payload.
"Eirikur? Hi, Gunna," she said needlessly, as if Eirikur had not already seen her number appear on his phone. She was cursing herself for not having spent the previous evening looking through Hrobjartur Bjarnthorsson"s file, but Gisli"s bombsh.e.l.l had pushed everything else out of her mind, and she reminded herself that first Laufey would have to be told of her big brother"s predicament, and then the rest of the family. She wondered if her elder brother Svanur had yet been told of his stepdaughter"s pregnancy, and the circ.u.mstances.
"Chief? You there?" Eirikur asked, concerned. Gunna realized that her phone was at her ear while her mind was elsewhere.
"Sorry, Eirikur. Brain"s gone to mashed potato today," she said, smothering her growing irritation at herself and trying to concentrate. "Look, priority. No messing about. Johannes Karlsson"s wife must have been told by now. I want access to his bank details as soon as possible, preferably within an hour. Any unauthorized transactions and all that. You know the score."
"Anything suspicious?"
"Anything out of the ordinary, especially anything yesterday, considering he was probably dead around lunchtime. Understand?"
"Understood."
"But quick, Eirikur. There are more people than just us sniffing around. OK?" Gunna instructed, putting her phone away and approaching the hotel, where a bulky man with a black frown on his face was huddled in a padded coat, smoking a cigarette under the "No Smoking" sign.
"This is a non-smoking zone," she snapped and the man glared back at her, took a final pull and flicked the b.u.t.t into the slush in the gutter.
"How would you like to mind your own business?" he invited and quailed as Gunna opened her wallet in front of him.
"City police," she said in the same sharp tone as before. "I believe you wanted a word with me. You are?"
"Hakon Hakonarson," he said once they were inside the hotel"s lobby. "My wife works here and she was questioned twice yesterday. I just wanted to make it plain that this is unjustified and it"s not right for you people to hara.s.s her like this."
Gunna nodded in agreement, suppressing the dislike that she"d instinctively developed for this corpulent man and his pompous manner. "If she had been interviewed twice, then I might agree with you, but there was one short interview and that was all. Where"s your wife right now?"
"At home with a headache," Hakon retorted in a sullen voice, like a child scolded for someone else"s misdemeanour.
"And where do you live?"
"Vallarholt. Number 87."
"And you drove here, did you?"
"Of course."
"Gunna felt in her pocket for her keys. "Well, if you go now, you"ll be there before me."
Hakon looked stunned. "You think you"re going to interview her again?"
"Yup."
"She"s had two interviews already," he protested.
"That"s as maybe. But she"s only spoken to a police officer once and I"d very much like to know who she spoke to after she left this place yesterday." She made to go. "So I"ll see you in about half an hour, Hakon. All right?"
Valeria looked ill while Hakon fumed in a corner. The flat was spotless, with not a single one of the many china statues of ballerinas and puppies out of place. Gunna felt nervous about sitting down and ruining the careful arrangement of cushions on the sofa, so she perched on the edge instead.
"Not feeling well, Valeria?"
"It"s OK. I don"t have a shift today, so I"m not missing work."
"Let"s track back, shall we? You found Johannes Karlsson"s body in his room at the hotel, right? I understand that you shouldn"t have done. According to the rules, your supervisor should have gone into the room first."
"That"s right. astros is worried about it. There will be an . . ." She floundered, searching for the right word.
"Investigation?" Gunna offered.
"Yes. Investigate. Soon."
"I"ve a good mind to take the d.a.m.ned hotel to court and demand damages," Hakon rumbled, unable to contain his indignation any longer. "It"s a d.a.m.ned disgrace that their staff should have to put up with this kind of thing."
"Quite," Gunna said shortly, pointedly ignoring Hakon and concentrating on Valeria, who was sitting on a hard-backed chair.
"I"m not having it, you know," he continued, failing to take the hint. "The last time this happened-" he stopped suddenly. Gunna looked at Valeria, who was staring at her husband in horror.
"The last time this happened?" Gunna asked, breaking the long silence that followed his furious outburst. "Just what do you mean by that? Explain, will you?"
Valeria sighed. "At Gullfoss Hotel once. I only work there two months, the week I start there. Before that I was working at Harbourside Hotel. Two times at Harbourside."
"Owned by the same company," Hakon put in. "They asked her to switch because Gullfoss needed more reliable staff when they took it over."
"astros also. She work for these hotels for twenty years. First Arctic Hotel, then Harbourside. Then to Gullfoss. Same company for a long time. Now there are mistakes, problems, and she is worried. Not easy to find work for fifty-year-old lady."
"What happened at the Harbourside Hotel? And how long ago?"
Magnus yawned. The doorbell chimed insistently for the third time and he hauled himself out of bed and shuffled towards the front door of the flat. He had only lived there for a few weeks and there were still boxes in the hall that needed to be unpacked.
He ran a hand through his hair, scowled at the boxes and reflected that if Sara had moved in with him instead of going back to her parents, all the crockery and ornaments would have been put in cupboards and on shelves weeks ago.
Peering through the spy hole, he could see a middle-aged man in blue overalls with his finger on the doorbell b.u.t.ton again, as he yawned and scratched his beard with the other hand.
"Who is it?" he called through the door.
"Maintenance. There"s a water leak somewhere in the building and we"re checking all the bathrooms."
"There"s no leak here," Magnus called irritably.
"What? I can"t hear you?"
He could see the man on the other side cupping one ear and Magnus cursed at having had to move to a cheaper apartment with no intercom.
"Plumbing," the man called out again. "Got to check the valves. It"ll take two minutes."
Magnus groaned and considered going right back to bed, but in the end he gave way and opened the door to let the man and his toolbox inside.
"Where"s your bathroom, pal? Sorry to disturb you. It won"t take long."
Magnus scratched under the baggy T-shirt he slept in and walked ahead of him along the pa.s.sage. "In here. But there"s nothing wrong here," he began, and yelped in surprise as the man pushed him forward into the bathroom, looked around quickly and put a hand firmly onto Magnus"s shoulder. A second later he was lying in the bath, dazed and with blood running down his face, wondering how the rim of the bathtub had flown up and hit his nose. The man"s hand felt huge as it descended on his face, stifling the howl of alarm that welled up inside him as his mouth was filled with a foul-tasting ball of cloth.
With a knee planted firmly in the small of Magnus"s back, the man bound his hands together with swift movements and a roll of tape, completing the task before his victim had even realized what was happening. Magnus kicked out as the man grasped his feet to bind those as well, and was instantly rewarded with a merciless jab in the ribs that left him gasping and cross-eyed with a pain he could hardly have imagined.
The man smiled and nodded, as if satisfied with his own handiwork. He leaned over him and spun the taps; ice-cold water poured into the tub, blending with scalding water that reeked of sulphur. The bulky man sat on the edge of the tub and lit a cigarette, gazing down sadly like a father contemplating a naughty child. Magnus wondered what he had done and spluttered to mumble past the ball of cloth in his mouth.
"Not a word. Understood?" The man reached forward and gripped his shirt to spin him onto his back. He then delicately pulled from his mouth what Magnus recognized as a pair of his own underpants, taken from the washing basket by the door. He felt instantly sick and sour vomit cascaded down his chest as he retched while trying desperately to protest his innocence.
"Shhhh," the big man said. "Magnus. You"re not going to cause any fuss, are you? Of course not. Because if you do . . ." A hand swept forward, gripped the hair of his fringe, shoved his head beneath the surface and held it there until bubbles began to appear, before hauling him back up. Magnus gasped and barely managed a lungful of air before he was back below the surface. He writhed and a maelstrom of bubbles broke the surface. The big man counted to three and hauled his head back up while Magnus gasped and retched, shuddering as he gulped down precious air.
"As you can see, Magnus, I"m not playing any games. You can see that, can"t you?" The man asked in a warm, avuncular tone, as if regretting that things had come to this.
"I haven"t done anything . . ." Magnus groaned, too drained of energy to offer resistance.
"Let"s just say that you haven"t done anything that you"re aware of, shall we?" The man smiled. "A woman showed up at your hotel yesterday morning. Tall, blonde, grey dress. What"s the scam and who"s in on it? Talk."
Magnus hesitated. The man grasped a handful of hair and again propelled Magnus below the surface, to reappear what seemed like half a lifetime later with a gasp and the words tumbling out of his mouth.
"I don"t know, I swear. It"s nothing to do with me and I just saw her come in and go up to the room," he gabbled, the words tripping over each other in his desperate haste to explain before his head was thrust below the surface again.
"All right, Magnus. Now, you tell me when she left. How long did she stay in the hotel. Whose room did she go to?"
"It was 406. There was a businessman in there. There was a phone call at reception at about twelve o"clock to say that there was someone in 406 who was in trouble and would we send one of the staff to check, and that it was urgent. I went up there myself and there was a guy who had been tied to the bed. That"s the truth, and I didn"t see the girl again. She went in but I didn"t see her leave."
"And the guy who was in the room?"
"He was packed and gone about ten minutes later."
"You checked CCTV to see if she had left, didn"t you?"
"Yeah, of course. But I didn"t see her anywhere. She disappeared."
The man stood up and Magnus could see him thinking. "The victim. Name?"
"Haraldur, I think."
"Whose -son?"
"I . . . I"m not sure."
Again his head disappeared below the surface of the water.
"Any ideas?" The man asked.
"Samuelsson, I think. From out of town somewhere."
"He settled his bill and left?"
"He"d paid for the room in advance."
The man nodded slowly. "You know, Magnus? You"re working this afternoon, aren"t you?" he asked and continued without waiting for a reply. "You"re going to go to work as usual and you"ll get a phone call a few minutes after four, which is when you"re going to give me this guy"s name, address, phone number and his credit card number as well. You can get all those off the computer system, can"t you?"
Magnus nodded, prepared to agree to anything that involved not being drowned in the bathtub of a cheap rented flat.
"You"ll also go into the phone records and get me the number of the phone that called to tell you this guy needed some help upstairs. Understood?"