Frozen Assets

Bjössi stood up and shrugged himself into an outsized overcoat that Gunna had told him many times made him look like a flasher. ‘Well, it’s up to you. But times are going to be bloody tough in the next few years and working for the public sector at least has a bit of security about it. You’d be bloody mad to turn it down. Up a pay scale, a shift to plain clothes if you want it, cheap housing. Even if it’s just for a year or two, it’d be worth it,’ he said heavily. ‘Come on, apart from this case, what’s the most interesting piece of work you’ve had in the last year? Was it when Sigga Vésteins broke into the pharmacy and you had to follow the footprints in the snow to find out which low-life it was, or was it when you had to bust Albert Jónasson for 300 kilos of over-quota cod?’

‘Ach, Bjössi, I don’t know.’

‘Gunna, look, either take the job or get yourself a boyfriend. You deserve a little excitement for a change.’

‘Where are you?’ Sigurjóna demanded immediately the phone was answered.

‘Reykjavík,’ Hardy replied. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘The police have been here looking for you. Where are you at the moment?’

‘Let’s just say I’m in Iceland. It may be best if you don’t know exactly where I am.’

Sigurjóna paced up and down the black quarry tiles of her rarely used designer kitchen, and noticed that the cleaner had left smears on the stainless steel hood over the six-burner gas stove. She made a mental note to have words with the girl. ‘They know about you and are looking for you.’

‘That’s understandable. Do you know what information they have?’

‘No. They were very cagey and wouldn’t say anything except that it’s high-priority.’

Hardy looked up from the armchair enclosing him and listened to Erna singing tunelessly to herself in the bedroom. He was amazed at the woman’s energy. There was definitely something about these sisters, he thought to himself.

‘Listen, have you seen my sister?’ Sigurjóna demanded suddenly.

‘Why?’

‘I can’t reach her and I haven’t seen her since the awards. Did she go home with you?’

‘She’s fine.’ Hardy chuckled. ‘I’ll ask her to call you.’

‘Shit. Well, that’s a relief anyway. At least I know why the randy old cow’s not answering her phone. I hope she hasn’t completely tired you out?’

‘Tell me about your visit from the police. What did they want, exactly?’

‘To know where you are. That’s all they’d say.’

‘A senior officer?’

‘There were three of them. A sergeant and two officers.’

‘Plain clothes or uniform?’

‘Uniform.’

‘Do you have the man’s name?’

‘It’s a woman. Gunnhildur. She used to be quite well known. She’s tough.’

‘We’ll see. I’m sure we can fix something,’ Hardy said with a chill in his voice. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, this isn’t a secure line and I have some things to arrange.’

‘OK. But get Erna to call me, all right? Hardy?’

‘Yes?’

Sigurjóna was silent for a moment.

‘Was Einar Eyjólfur’s death anything to do with you?’ she asked, almost whispering the words and listening to Hardy’s silence.

‘That’s an unpleasant question,’ he replied eventually, smoothly. ‘But I take it his disappearing was useful for you?’

‘Well, it was. Yes.’

‘Then don’t worry about it.’

Bjarni Jón Bjarnason was learning how shock feels. His fingers and feet were numb, and he found himself observing his own reactions to the news with a detached objectivity that surprised him.

‘Jeeesus,’ he whispered silently to himself.

Horst meshed his fingers delicately together and planted his elbows on the glossy tabletop, so perfectly polished that his whole image was mirrored in the surface.

‘Are you all right, Mr Bjarnason? I am, of course, sorry to have to bring you such unwelcome news. Would you like a drink?’

‘Er, no thanks,’ Bjarni Jón stumbled, trying to keep an outward semblance of composure. ‘Can I ask the reasons for this?’

‘Certainly,’ Horst answered smoothly. ‘This seemed like a very positive project at the time when others were setting up geothermal and hydro-electric systems for powering smelters. We definitely saw this as a possibility, but when our Norwegian friends pulled out for reasons of their own-’

‘Ethical reasons,’ Bjarni Jón added sourly.

‘Exactly, ethical reasons.’

‘Surely you weren’t all that concerned about ethics?’

A narrow smile flashed across Horst’s face. ‘Not particularly, but our parent company, as you know, is looking at the long term and they are concerned about adverse publicity, as well as other aspects. To be quite blunt, we do not have confidence in your economy and we understand that the financial sector in your country is weakening.’

‘What?’ Bjarni Jón demanded. ‘Our banks are in a very strong position. I think you’re on the wrong track here.’

Horst’s face gave nothing away. ‘If you think so, Mr Bjarnason. But we have very reliable information to the effect that your bank does not have the funds to support your company’s activities.’

‘That’s absolutely ridiculous. There have been a few minor exchange rate problems, but our financial sector is one of the strongest in the world.’