Frozen Assets

Maybe it was time for a change, a quiet parting of the ways and a smooth divorce? But he knew that, with Sigurjóna, nothing was likely to be quiet or smooth. A husband in government was a major asset to her that she would be unlikely to let go easily.

He sympathized with her. Spearpoint had been doing extraordinarily well on the basis of her undoubted personal skills and their combined access to the right people. They both felt they had worked hard to get this far. But Sigurjóna was certainly hard work. A sweet little thing who would do as she was asked, give him a brood of children and not spit venom every time he lit a cigar would also be nice.

And what about her lunatic sister? Bjarni Jón groaned to himself out loud. The stewardess with the magnificently toned behind looked at him with momentary concern as she delivered his brandy with a flashing smile, and he smiled wanly in return. No rings on her fingers. He quickly considered asking for her phone number but decided against it.

But Erna, bloody hell, what a mess. Two out-of-control kids, two failed marriages, numerous smashed cars and a discreet spell in rehab, not to mention bailing her out of a cell once or twice after screaming matches in the street. Bjarni Jón was fully aware that Sigurjóna and Erna were close, but the woman was a liability he could do without. So where the bloody hell had she got to this time? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t disappeared for a day or three before, but this time Sigurjóna was clearly more worried than usual. Hell, he’d worry about it when he got home, he thought, allowing his eyes to drift back to the stewardess’s buttocks as she backed down the aisle with the trolley of drinks yet again.

Hårde opened his eyes. The sun was higher in the sky than it had been when he had closed them. His mind was calm. The dusty surface of the road told him that nobody had passed while he had thought.

The time he had spent concentrating on every breath, guiding his attention back to counting each slow inhalation whenever his thoughts wandered, had cleared his mind.

He picked up the mobile phone that he had switched off at the

InterAlu compound and opened it. He deftly lifted out the SIM card, dropped it out of the car’s window into the grass at the roadside and replaced it with another that had been wrapped in a twist of paper in his wallet. He switched on and scrolled to one of only a few numbers in the directory.

‘Horst,’ the gravel voice answered.

‘Hårde.’

‘Problem?’

‘Not sure. I need an alternative route off this island.’

‘You are mobile? Car?’

‘For the moment. I may have to get rid of the car soon.’

‘Call me back in twenty minutes. I’ll have something for you,’ Horst said, ending the call abruptly.

She watched Sigurjóna sit defiantly in the back of the squad car, handed the keys of the house to Edda for safekeeping and shut the door behind her. Pacing Sigurjóna’s gravelled path with a Camel, Gunna returned Snorri’s missed call.

‘You called. What is it, lad?’

‘Hårde, I think. There’s a pair of seats booked on a flight to Madrid at five thirty this afternoon. Names of Erna Daníelsdóttir and Gunnar Hadre.’

‘Madrid? Erna as well? You know she’s been reported missing?’

‘Maybe she’s not that missing after all.’

‘Obviously not,’ Gunna pondered. ‘It might be a smokescreen of some kind. I don’t like it. The man knows he’s being looked for. I want a team up there to grab him if he does show up for this flight, but I want surveillance up there straight away. Get on to the airport force, will you? Tell them what’s happening.’

‘Yeah, of course, chief.’

‘Is Vilhjálmur about?’

‘In his office, I think.’

‘OK. I’ll call him there.’

She dialled again and listened to the ringing tone with impatience.

‘Vilhjálmur,’ announced the expected measured tone.

‘Gunna. There’s plenty going on and now I need you to do your bit.’

‘Ah, Gunnhildur. Making progress, I assume? Excellent-’

Gunna cut him off abruptly. ‘Vilhjálmur, listen. Sigurjóna Huldudóttir’s in custody at Hverfisgata.’

‘What? The Minister’s wife? You’re certain?’ he demanded through a sharp intake of breath.

Gunna could feel the tremor of fear in the voice on the other end. ‘Of course I’m bloody sure, and I can find grounds to hold the miserable cow if she makes a fuss. Now, listen, and you’d better write this down. I want you to get on to Reykjavík now, straight away. I need a car in Mjósundsvegur with at least two officers before I get there.’

Vilhjálmur was silent, but she could hear the scratch of his fountain pen.

‘Mjósundsvegur. Number?’ he asked to her relief.

‘Don’t know. It’s a guesthouse at the top end by the church. That’s where our man’s been staying. I doubt he’s there, but I don’t want to chance it alone.’

‘Quite right,’ Vilhjálmur replied. ‘I’ll get it fixed for you right away.’