Frozen Assets

Tóta trudged ahead of her up the flight of narrow steps, slippers a size too big flapping against cracked heels, and fished for a set of keys in the pocket of her housecoat. She tried several before the right one clicked into the lock and the door swung open.

‘You ought to have a warrant,’ Tóta said dubiously as Gunna snapped on surgical gloves and went into the room.

‘If you want a warrant, I can get one of my colleagues to be here with one in half an hour and I’ll wait in your living room until he gets here. If that’s what you want? Hm?’

Tóta lapsed back into insolent silence and watched from the doorway, scattering ash on the carpet.

‘Have you been in here since Matti left?’

Tóta said nothing and Gunna pulled the drawers of a small dresser open to find only dust inside. Some of Matti’s clothes were draped over the back of a chair and the creaking wardrobe was empty apart from a raincoat that might have gone out of fashion a generation ago.

‘I said, has anybody been in here since Matti left?’

‘Look under the bed.’

‘Why?’

‘Just look.’

Gunna swept aside the hem of the duvet and bent down to peer at the dust and a noticeable dust-free square patch underneath.

‘Nothing there.’

‘Then the old man’s been in here and nicked Fatso’s porn mags. So he’s been in here.’

‘Tóta, do you have any idea where Matti is? I’m not going to bugger about here. This isn’t something trivial.’

‘I don’t know,’ Tóta whined. ‘He paid his rent, he went out.’

‘Did he say when he would be back?’

‘No.’

‘Do you expect him back, considering he’s taken most of his stuff?’

‘Maybe. Maybe not. If he isn’t back by the end of the month, I’ll rent his room out to someone else. I could get three Polish in here, easy,’ she said, brightening at the prospect.

‘Let’s try again. Do you know who he was going about with? Any friends who visited him here? Anyone looking for him? Did he mention anyone in particular?’

‘No. Nothing. He whinged all the time about Nonni the Taxi and the bloke at some club he did business for. Some foreigner, he said. I reckon Fatso was a bit scared of him, didn’t want to upset him.’

Gunna shut the door behind her, but decided to keep the surgical gloves on until she was out of the house. ‘What sort of business?’

‘Don’t know. Didn’t ask. But Fatso had plenty of money. Lots of money.’

‘Where from, d’you know?’

‘Ask Fatso when you find him. I’ll bet he won’t tell you either.’

At the front door, Gunna rolled off the gloves, taking her time as Tóta was clearly anxious to get back to her television.

‘Thank you for your assistance. If you hear anything about Matti, I’d appreciate it if you let me know. That way I won’t have to look for him down in your cellar, if you get my meaning,’ Gunna said as Tóta scowled through the crack of the door.

Dagga decided to take the stairs instead of waiting for the lift. As she reached the first landing, she heard the lift hiss and open above and behind her, but shrugged and decided to carry on anyway.

Hardy stepped from the lift and dialled a number on his mobile, letting it ring until a disembodied voice told him in soothing tones that the number was either switched off or out of range. He cut the voice off before it had a chance to ask him to try again later and stepped quietly into Spearpoint’s offices.

Dísa looked up as the door opened and recognized him. Without a word spoken, she buzzed through to Sigurjóna.

‘What?’ Sigurjóna snapped through the intercom.

‘Mr Hardy is here to see you,’ Dísa replied.

‘One minute, please, Dísa. Then show him in.’

‘Sigurjóna will be right with you,’ she said in her careful English, looking back up at Hardy who simply nodded in reply.

Hardy stood impassive at the desk. Dísa found the man sinister. He said little, but what he said was always polite. On his rare visits to Spearpoint’s offices, he always looked the same, always dressed in the same way come rain, shine or snow. As she waited for the minute to pass, Dísa thought to herself that what really made Hardy sinister was the impassive look that gave no clue as to what he was thinking.

The intercom light flickered in front of her and Dísa looked up to where Hardy was standing at the window, hands folded together behind his back and rocking almost imperceptibly on the balls of his feet.

‘Sigurjóna’s free now,’ Dísa said to his back. Hardy twisted round soundlessly, nodding at Dísa with a hint of a smile.

Sigurjóna was sitting at her desk, watching a TV news channel with the sound turned down low. She glowered as Hardy came in and padded across the thick carpet.

‘It’s started again,’ she said, without bothering with a greeting.

‘The blog?’

‘Last week. I thought you had stopped it when it went quiet. I thought you’d found someone who was responsible for all this?’

‘A message has been sent. I’m sure it will be effective.’

‘Yeah,’ Sigurjóna spat. ‘And do you know what that stupid Skandalblogger is saying now?’

‘No. I haven’t read it.’

‘All right. It’s saying that someone who drowned in Hvalvík harbour was put there deliberately.’

‘Is that so?’