Frozen Assets

Lóa’s brow furrowed in a way that reminded Matti uncomfortably of their cousin Gunna.

‘Bloody hell,’ she said finally.

It was late in the afternoon and they had a meeting room to themselves. Skúli thought Gunna would be impressed as they sat in their glass cage at Dagurinn’s offices, but she didn’t seem to have realized what a feat he had achieved. He could see Jonni and Dagga looking curiously at them, and turned back to the computer screen.

‘Is this all the pictures?’ Gunna demanded.

‘It’s all the ones I have, but I suppose Lára might have more.’

‘And this is the highest quality you can get?’

‘I think so. Lára didn’t compress the files, so this is as they were taken.’

Gunna peered at the picture of herself on the screen, jaw set firm, sky and mountains reflected in the mirrors of her sunglasses. ‘Zoom in, will you?’

‘On what?’

‘There.’ She pointed to the man in the middle distance looking directly at the lens from behind her.

The man’s face filled the screen, impassive blue eyes and a day’s worth of stubble on his cheeks. A very ordinary face, Gunna thought, nothing special about the combination of features, but unmistakably the face of a strong-willed character used to getting his own way.

‘Skúli, my boy, I’d very much like to get more pictures of this man if it’s possible. Can you get hold of the photographer?’

Skúli opened his mobile and thumbed buttons before holding it to his ear.

‘Hi, Lára? Skúli at Dagurinn. Yeah, fine, thanks. And you? Cool.’

Gunna sat and listened to Skúli’s half of the conversation, fascinated at the way his entire manner changed when speaking to someone of his own age.

‘Yeah, er, Lára. I need a favour if that’s OK? I have someone here who wants to see any pictures you have of the march at Hvalvík. Yeah, it was a great day, wasn’t it? Just wondering if you’re on the way over here at all?’

Gunna frowned and motioned to Skúli for him to pass the phone to her. He frowned back.

‘Er, Lára, just a moment,’ he said, and held the phone in the palm of his hand. ‘She says she has more pics, but wants to know who wants to see them?’

‘Let me speak to her.’

‘Er, OK.’

He handed the phone across with a second’s reluctance.

‘Good morning. Lára? This is Gunnhildur Gísladóttir, Hvalvík police. I’m working on an investigation and need to identify someone in one of your pictures of the march. Could you help out?’ Gunna asked in a tone that clearly expected a positive reply.

Lára’s voice crackled through a poor line. ‘Yeah, that’s OK. I can bring my laptop and you can go through all the pictures I took if you want.’

‘Excellent. When?’

‘Depends where you are? Are you in town or out at Hvalvík right now?’

‘I’m in Skúli’s office at the moment.’

‘No problem. I’ll be right with you. Five minutes.’

‘Good. Thank you,’ Gunna finished, snapping Skúli’s phone shut. ‘She’ll be here in a few minutes.’

‘She’s here already,’ Skúli said, looking over Gunna’s shoulder. She swung her head round to see Lára’s gangly form approaching, lopsided with a camera bag slung over one shoulder. She stopped at Dagga’s desk, where some exaggerated air kisses took place as Jonni scowled.

‘You know,’ Skúli said, looking at the image on his computer screen, ‘I spoke to this man at the march.’

‘What? Why didn’t you say so before?’

‘Should I have?’

‘Ach, I’m sorry, Skúli. Now, tell me more.’

‘Well, not much really. He came and chatted for a minute, and then he was gone. Didn’t think much of it.’

‘What did he say?’

‘Not much. Asked if I was a journo and I said yes. He said he was working for a German magazine called Eco Zeit, but I googled it afterwards and it doesn’t seem to exist.’

‘Did he say his name?’

‘No, don’t think so.’

‘And is he German or what?’

Skúli thought. ‘Sorry, I don’t know. He spoke English very well, better than I do, but I couldn’t tell you if he had an accent or not.’

There was a tap at the door and Lára appeared, grinning.

‘Hi,’ Skúli responded with a warmth that told Gunna he was more than a little pleased to see her. ‘That was quick.’

‘Wasn’t it just? I was upstairs. Been doing some pictures for Home and Garden magazine on the next floor,’ she said, unfolding a laptop and tapping it into life. She quickly located a folder of image files, swiped across them and opened the whole series.

‘These are the pics from the march. That was a pretty good day, I even sold some photos of it in Denmark and Sweden. Now, what was it you wanted to look at?’

Skúli turned his computer towards her and pointed to the man’s face behind Gunna’s shoulder.

‘Oh, that creep,’ Lára said.

‘You spoke to him?’

‘Briefly. He asked for my phone number and said we ought to meet for a drink sometime.’

Gunna was amused to see Skúli bridle visibly.

‘A bit too smooth, I thought,’ Lára continued.

‘Where did you think he was from?’

‘Not from here, at any rate. He spoke English, but he could be from anywhere. Not England, though. His English was too precise, too perfect. Y’know what I mean? Like he’d learned it at school.’