Frozen Assets

‘Ask forensics to get there as well. If there are any prints, I want them. As soon as I’m done there, I’ll be on the way out to Keflavík again. Things are happening at the airport, I reckon, so I want you to get on to the most senior officer there and brief him. Snorri can tell you more. All right?’

Vilhjálmur Traustason had the fleeting feeling that Gunna had been promoted over his head.

‘Nine five five zero, zero three five five.’

Gunna’s communicator buzzed and she pressed the button on her headset to reply.

‘Zero three five five, nine five five zero.’

‘Olli here. The phone company just got back to me. The number is an ordinary pay-as-you go SIM card that was never registered. It’s the sort you can pick up at petrol stations. Nothing special about it and no hope of identifying the user.’

‘Not to worry. It was worth a go.’

‘Hang on. It’s been switched off for about two hours.’

‘Any idea where?’

‘The last connection was through the mast at Lækjarbakki.’

‘Outside Hvalvík?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘Two hours ago?’

‘Last connection was 10.05.’

‘OK, thanks, Olli. Make sure the number’s monitored in case it comes up again, and will you ask the phone company to call me direct if there’s any activity?’

‘Will do. We checked Erna Dan’s house as well, all quiet, no sign of anything unusual and the intruder alarm says it’s active.’

‘Good,’ Gunna said. ‘Sounds like nobody home there.’

They were back around the incident room table, ignored computer screens lighting the room with their dim glow. There was a chill in the room now that the sun had travelled far enough west by midday for its rays to leave their side of the building in shadow.

‘What do we have?’ Gunna demanded, without bothering to greet anyone and hauling off her jacket as she sat down.

‘I went to the Gullfoss like you said,’ Bára began. ‘Tracked down a doorman who saw Hårde leave with Erna at about two in the morning. They left on foot and he didn’t see them take a cab or get in a car.’

Vilhjálmur shimmered silently in. Gunna looked up at him inquiringly, but he held both hands up palms outwards to indicate that he did not intend to take part other than to listen.

‘Who spoke to the snapper, Ármann?’

‘Me, chief,’ Snorri replied quickly. ‘Nothing much to tell, really. He didn’t notice Erna and Hårde particularly, just snapped off the photo of every table and got as many names as he could.’

‘Nothing, then?’

‘Nothing we didn’t know already. He showed me the whole file of pictures he took, and our two can only be seen in a couple of them. He left before the party really got going. But he said he saw all the awards being presented and also Sigurjóna dropping hers on the floor.’

‘How did that happen?’ Gunna asked.

‘Just pissed, I think. Ármann also did some video and he admitted he’d posted the clip of Sigurjóna dropping her statue on to YouTube, the one that Skandalblogger linked to.’

‘Any significance there? Does this guy have a link to the Skandalblogger?’ Gunna asked.

‘Could be. But if so, he’s not saying anything, which is hardly surprising. Is that relevant at this stage?’

‘Probably not,’ Gunna decided. ‘Making a fool of yourself in public generally isn’t a criminal offence. I just want to know where that bloody Hårde is and if Sigurjóna’s fruitcake sister is still in the land of the living. Who dug up the flight ticket info?’

‘Me again, chief.’ Snorri’s hand went up. ‘17.35 flight this afternoon to Madrid, booked in the names of Erna Daníelsdóttir and Gunnar Hadre.’

‘Hadre?’

‘Well, close enough to Hårde. I checked back with the airline. It was booked over the net using a credit card that checks back to Erna Dan.’

Gunna leaned back and stretched her legs out in front under the table. ‘What I’m wondering is this, did Erna book this and maybe type in Hårde’s name wrong? Or did maybe Hårde book this using her computer and credit card? I have to admit, I’m getting a nasty feeling that we’re going to find a seriously dead Erna somewhere sooner or later.’

‘Ah, I’ll see if I can check,’ Snorri said. He seated himself in front of one of the semi-dormant computers and tapped at the keyboard to wake it.

‘What does anybody think?’ Gunna asked. ‘I reckon it stinks.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘The man knows we’re looking for him.’

‘How would he know that?’ Vilhjálmur asked quietly.

‘Because Sigurjóna bloody Huldudóttir told him so. Anyhow, it seems too easy. Watch the airport and wait for him to show up. It’s too simple. A man like Hårde doesn’t get caught out like this.’

‘Where else could he go?’ Bára asked.

‘Hell, I don’t know. There are private aircraft coming in and out, more than ever now that Iceland has more billionaires per square metre than anywhere else in Europe. There are other airports, shipping, the ferry in the east. Or he might lie low until the heat’s off.’

‘Where, though? He’d be noticed, surely?’ Snorri suggested.

Gunna opened her mouth to speak, but closed it as the door banged open and Bjössi came in.