Frozen Assets

Terje hurried back up the gangway to the ship, followed by the rest of the crew, not looking at where Hårde stood quietly between his escorts. The black van drew up and one of them opened the rear. The Juno Provider’s gangway was quickly swung aboard and the engines rumbled as the ship again strained at its spring rope.

Gunna watched helplessly while the ugly little ship gracefully swung around. The propeller began to bite as the ship moved forward and around out of the bay.

‘Keep back,’ the Special Unit officer warned Gunna and Bára as they watched Hårde taking a seat in the van, still with two guns covering him. As the doors slammed shut, the officer slapped the side twice and it pulled away along the quay before he turned to face Gunna.

‘Where the hell are you taking that bastard? Have you any idea who that man is or what he’s done?’ she raged.

‘I’m following orders. I can’t comment,’ the man replied in an expressionless voice.

‘What orders?’

‘No comment.’

‘Look here, that man is a known criminal and wanted in connection with three murders. On what authority have you detained him?’ she demanded, wagging a finger under the man’s nose. Bára held her breath, keenly aware that the man still had a gun in his hand.

‘I can’t tell you anything. I don’t have to answer any questions.’

The finger wagging under the man’s nose became an open palm and Gunna suddenly gave the man’s chest a shove that took him by surprise. He stepped back quickly, trying to keep his balance, but his heel caught the bollard on the quayside and he toppled backwards, spread his arms wide for a moment and was gone.

Gunna peered over the edge at the man treading water far below her.

‘Can you swim, mate?’ she called down to the man glaring balefully up at her, but he said nothing.

‘There’s a ladder up there,’ Gunna said, pointing along the quay to where a set of weed-covered iron rungs emerged from the water.

‘Well, Bára, I think it might be best if we were off. Special Unit seems to have everything under control here.’

The second-best Volvo juddered along the dock to the end where the first black-clad man was sitting on a pile of pallets, nursing the elbow of the arm that had been inside the car when Gunna put her foot down.

‘All right, chum?’ Gunna called, leaning out of the window and slowing down as she approached him. The man glowered back at her, but said nothing.

‘You might want to go and give your pal a hand,’ she said, jerking a thumb behind her in the direction of the empty quayside. ‘He went for a swim.’

36

Sunday, 5 October

05-10-2008, 1252

Skandalblogger writes:

Ladies and gentlemen, boys, girls and those of you who haven’t made up your minds yet. .

So, what has been happening behind the scenes at Glitnir? For just how long has the Icelandic financial sector been doing the big business equivalent of using its Mastercard to pay its Visa bills?

Children, Skandalblogger has been harping on about the shortcomings of our great leaders for long enough for us to be able to say. . told you so! But we won’t. Let’s just say that now things start to look genuinely serious, Geir and his pals in Parliament had better do something right for a change.

Some people just don’t get any luckier, do they? Just as Bjarni Jón Environment was about to be hung out to dry for getting caught in the act, Glitnir goes tits-up, the economy’s suddenly on its knees and the PM decides government needs to show strength. So BJB’s still in a job, his sins swept under the carpet until such time as the present brouhaha blows over, by which time it’ll all be loooong forgotten. Still, at least the fragrant Sigurjóna’s back in business, even though staff at Spearpoint are taking bets on how long she’ll tough it out now she’s not the boss any longer and her trademark tantrums are off the menu.

As it happens, word has reached your faithful Skandalblogger that BJB has already been putting it about, passing an old adversary a titbit of advice to oil the wheels of justice. There’s nothing like making a real problem into someone else’s problem to cheer up a chap who’s just been handed a shit sandwich for lunch.

So keep up the good work!

37

Monday, 6 October

Gunna wondered how she could complete her report honestly and contemplated telling the unvarnished truth of how the men in the black van had spirited Hårde away.

She could still see the man’s clear blue eyes gazing directly into hers a second before the doors of the van slammed shut. Gunna frowned and put the computer in front of her to sleep.

‘Snorri!’

‘Yes, chief?’

‘I’m going out. Might be a while. Look after the place, will you?’

‘Will do.’

Outside the breeze off the sea brought the fresh tang of seaweed with it. It was going to be a windy night, maybe the first proper storm of winter, she decided, settling into the second-best Volvo.