Frozen Assets

‘Ah, but we didn’t ask where he had been, only if she knew where he was when we spoke to her. So another visit to the delightful Sigurjóna might be in order. OK, boys and girls. Grab yourselves a coffee, then get to it, please,’ Gunna said, noticing with discomfort as he stood up the new lines that had appeared on Vilhjálmur Traustason’s long face, making him look a few years older than he had at the end of the previous week.

‘Ah, Gunnhildur. A word, if you would be so kind.’

Hårde drove faster than usual out to Hvalvík, talking for most of the way to the voices that came through his mobile headset. His room at the guesthouse he had been staying at was tidy, and still occupied for a few more days as far as the owners would be concerned. The bed was made and there was still a toothbrush in the bathroom, but the locked suitcase on the bed was empty.

After three conversations in three languages, Hårde passed the ‘Welcome to Hvalvík’ sign in a cloud of dust that hung in the still air behind him, warming in the morning sun.

The phone bleeped a fourth time. He looked down at the display and raised a finger to touch the button on his headset.

‘Good morning, Herr Horst,’ he said gravely, in English this time.

‘Good morning, Gunnar.’

‘Is everything confirmed?’ Hårde asked.

‘Of course. It’s just as we discussed. You are able to disengage?’

‘I’m not sure yet. There might be some difficulties in leaving the country.’

‘If you need an alternative route, then call me on this number.’ Horst’s gravel voice rattled in his earpiece. ‘But I’m sure you’ll be all right. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume that we can meet here in a few days?’

‘A week, maybe.’

‘A week? Is there some delay?’ Horst asked in surprise.

‘Just a few days’ holiday for a change.’

‘Of course. I think you deserve a break,’ he said, chuckling. ‘Call me if there’s a hitch.’

‘I will.’

Hårde clicked the connection shut as the car cruised around Hvalvík, past the harbour area and along the road to the compound, where he sounded the horn for a guard to open the gate.

The room emptied quickly as Vilhjálmur Traustason stalked the length of the room, hands behind his back. He did not speak until the last one, Bjössi, winking at Gunna as he shut the door behind him, had left the room.

‘Just wanted to let you know I’m watching your progress and you’re doing a fine job,’ he said. Gunna could only look at him in disbelief.

‘What’s this for, Vilhjálmur? You’re not usually one for patting people on the back.’

‘That’s as may be. But you are making progress and the team is performing very well under your management.’

‘Where’s this going?’

‘Your promotion, and posting. I need to have a decision this week.’

‘Hell. I’d forgotten all about that.’

‘The Egilstadir force has requested you, Gunnhildur. Informally, of course,’ he added hurriedly.

‘I’ll think about it and you’ll have my decision next week.’

‘Excellent. Now, there’s another matter we need to discuss.’

Vilhjálmur Traustason stood and looked out of the window at the queue of morning traffic collecting at the roundabout outside. ‘I’ve had a communication from Lárus Jóhann Magnússon.’

‘What? The Minister?’

He nodded gravely. ‘The Ministry of Justice is concerned about the level of attention being focused on Bjarni Jón Bjarnason and his family and has requested a clarification.’

‘You mean Sigurjóna Huldudóttir has yelled at her husband, who has bleated to Lárus Jóhann?’

‘The Ministry has taken notice, shall we say?’

‘Look, Vilhjálmur. This woman is as crooked as they come. One of her staff was undoubtedly murdered and she is doing nothing to help the investigation — quite the reverse, in fact. I have a bloody good mind to haul her in for questioning on the basis of what she carefully didn’t tell us.’

A look of fury, quickly suppressed, passed across his face. ‘Please, Gunnhildur, consult me first if you do. I have to say, to an extent, your promotion could ride on this case.’

‘Oh, so if I screw this up and embarrass someone with big friends, then I’m not going to be flavour of the month? Come on. There’s something extremely unpleasant going on here and I could really do with your backing. Just how serious is the Minister’s interest?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Bjarni Jón Bjarnason is a lad and belongs to the Independence party. Lárus Jóhann is Progressive and he’s an old fart. They’re not in the same party. They don’t even like each other. So what’s going on? How serious is this pressure you feel you’re getting from the top?’

‘I’m sure I couldn’t tell you. There was simply a concern over possible undue harassment of Sigurjóna Huldudóttir.’

‘What I’m wondering is this: is Lárus Jóhann just passing on Bjarni Jón Bjarnason’s whining for the sake of form? Or is there really something here they might be concerned about?’ Is it my promotion that’s at stake, or does yours depend on this as well, Villi?’ Gunna asked gently.

This time the look of distaste on Vilhjálmur’s face was replaced by a brief flash of anger, rapidly erased.