Frozen Assets

‘Up to you. But I’ve read the file from Sweden as well. He’s a military man and used to roughing it. Don’t rule that out.’

‘Point taken,’ Gunna agreed. ‘But I’m following Bára’s idea of the hotels in the first instance. I have the feeling that this might be a way of wrong-footing us as something we wouldn’t expect, so it’s worth a look. If nothing comes of it this evening, we’ll think again.’

Gunna pursed her lips in irritation. ‘The problem is,’ she went on, ‘we don’t know what he’s waiting for. Does he have a deadline? We don’t know if he’s waiting for anything in particular other than a chance to get the hell off this island. We don’t know if he’s on his own or if he has friends helping him out. I’d really like to haul Sigurjóna over the coals one more time on this. If she’s not helping Hårde, she’d have a damn good idea who might be.’

Vilhjálmur Traustason looked worried. ‘She is a minister’s wife,’ he reminded her.

‘A bent minister,’ Gunna retorted.

Ívar Laxdal opened his mouth to speak when Bára interrupted. ‘Gunna! Chief!’ she squawked, hand over the phone.

‘What is it?’

‘The car’s been found.’

‘The rental car?’

‘Yup. It’s in Hafnarfjördur. A traffic warden saw it had been there past the time limit, wrote out a ticket, then she checked the number and it flashed up as missing. No doubt about it.’

‘Right. Snorri’s on his way, right? Tell Reykjavík to get a technical team and a dog on to it right this minute, and I don’t give a stuff if they say they’re busy.’

‘Lárus Jóhann.’

‘It’s me. I need a favour.’

‘Bjarni Jón. I hardly expected a call from you.’

‘Yeah. I have a lot to deal with right now,’ Bjarni Jón Bjarnason murmured into the phone. He tried to keep his voice as low as possible and was hoping that he could make a few necessary calls without alerting Sigurjóna, still sitting blank-eyed in front of the 24/7 News.

‘All right. There’s not much I can do for you, my boy.’

‘Look. This is me doing you a favour as much as the other way around.’

‘One hand scratching the other, you mean?’

‘Yeah. Sort of.’

‘And what do I get out of it, whatever it is?’

‘You get some grateful people who could be in a position to be extremely helpful.’

‘Helpful, how?’

Bjarni Jón took a long breath. ‘You know that things are changing?’

‘Ah, the old man’s not going to let you tough it out?’

Lárus Jóhann chuckled grimly at Bjarni Jón’s silence. ‘Don’t worry, my boy. It’ll all blow over soon enough. Did you think I was born yesterday? Look, there’ll be another scandal along next week, and by the time elections come round again, it’ll all be forgotten. You need a little patience and a thick skin to stay in politics, my boy. Look at Árni Johnsen.’

Bjarni Jón sighed. ‘If it happens, I hear you’re tipped for the treasury, or am I wrong?’

Lárus Jóhann could hardly keep the flush of pride from his voice. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, young man.’

‘Yes, you do, you old fox.’

‘Nobody’s tipped for anything at the moment. My guess is that when the financial situation is announced after the weekend, the old man will want to show a united front, which means nobody will go anywhere — you included.’

‘But. .?’

‘When the dust settles, then there’ll be a round of musical chairs. Until then, I suggest you keep your head down and jump when the old man cracks the whip.’

‘In that case, a word to the wise.’

‘What are we talking about?’ Lárus Jóhann asked sharply, and Bjarni Jón knew he had his full attention.

‘If you don’t know, I’m not going to say anything.’

‘Come on, play the game, will you?’

‘Lárus, this is just a piece of advice that helps you far more than it helps me. Listen, there’s a ship docked at Skarfanes.’

‘What, at that fishmeal factory?’

‘Yes, Lárus, the one your wife owns forty per cent of. That one.’

‘Go on, Bjarni.’

‘This ship needs to leave on Friday without anything untoward happening. No customs, no inspections, nobody looking too closely at the crew. You understand?’

‘Not entirely, but I assume you’ll explain soon enough.’

‘When the ship’s gone, I’ll tell you everything you need to know. Just whisper in the right ears.’

‘I’m intrigued.’

‘Just do it, Lárus.’

‘But you give me your word you’ll tell me what this is all about?’

‘I’ll tell you what I know. You’re in Parliament on Saturday?’

‘I’ll be in my Parliamentary office until twelve. Come and see me before that.’

‘Right. See you then,’ Bjarni Jón said, and the phone went dead.

It was still blowing gusts heavy with the tang of seaweed, but the rain had stopped and sunshine was making valiant attempts to break through broken banks of grey and black cloud scudding across from the west.

The lunchtime rush hour was at its peak and the anonymous grey Toyota sat forlornly in the car park, surrounded by the comings and goings of shoppers looking for places to park. A stream of curious onlookers were delighted to have something to watch as they waited in the burger van’s queue as the furore around the little car grew.