Thirteen
Magnus and Árni headed back to Akureyri to interview Eggert, Helga’s brother.
‘What was all that about the warrant for the private key, or whatever it’s called?’ said Árni as he was driving along the shore of the fjord, only slightly more slowly than he had been going earlier that morning. ‘There’s a good chance our existing warrant will cover it.’
‘Dísa’s right: we need to be careful about that. With the private key, anyone can just transfer the money to their own wallet.’
‘But we’re the police!’
‘There was a big case in the States a few years ago. They took down Silk Road, a kind of eBay for drugs on the dark web. Two separate law-enforcement officers stole bitcoin from Silk Road during the investigation, once they got their hands on the private keys.’
‘But that’s America,’ said Árni. ‘This is Iceland. No one here is going to steal anything.’
‘Probably not,’ said Magnus, although he wasn’t convinced. In his experience Icelanders could become a little complacent about their honesty and probity — until the next scandal came along. ‘Dísa is a very smart girl, and she can be useful to us. The thing is to win her trust. And accusing her little sister of murdering her mother isn’t the best way of going about it.’
‘You always say we should think outside of the box,’ said Árni. ‘Anna Rós found the body. She had the motive. Dísa herself said the farm needed saving.’
‘She also said her mother intended to use the Thomocoin to do it.’ Magnus had indeed once told Árni he should think outside the box. He regretted it; Árni mostly needed to do more thinking inside the box.
From the car, Magnus called Vigdís back in Reykjavík and asked her to interview Ómar, Helga’s ex-husband.
Then he called Sigurjón, a sergeant in Financial Crimes with whom he had worked a couple of times, on Sigurjón’s mobile.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi, Sigurjón, it’s Magnús Ragnarsson. Sorry to ring you on a Sunday. I’m in Dalvík, working on the murder. Thelma asked me to take a look at the Thomocoin angle.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Sigurjón sounded hesitant.
‘She said you guys didn’t want to know.’
‘That’s true.’
‘Why?’
‘I can give you the official version.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Thomocoin is an unregulated cryptocurrency. As such, it is not the Icelandic authorities’ responsibility. If Icelandic citizens invest in it, it’s entirely their own decision; they can’t expect any help from us if it goes wrong. Once we start investigating, we’re saying we accept responsibility for regulating it, and that’s something we definitely don’t want to do. Orders from the minister.’
‘Which minister?’
‘That’s a good question. It’s not entirely clear. Finance? Justice? The Prime Minister?’
‘Is it going to go wrong?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Has it already gone wrong?’
Silence for a moment. ‘Maybe.’
‘All right. What’s the unofficial version?’ Magnus was glad Sigurjón wasn’t in the office; it would be easier for him to speak out of turn at home.
‘It’s a political hot potato. Some politicians want Iceland to embrace cryptocurrency as tomorrow’s financial technology. Others want to have nothing to do with it. There are certain politicians who are lobbying for Thomocoin to be recognized as an official currency. Other politicians, and my bosses, think we shouldn’t touch it. Especially after the MLATs we’ve received from the FBI.’
MLATs were mutual legal assistance treaty requests for information.
‘What are they investigating?’
‘Thomocoin. An Icelandic national, Skarphédinn Gíslason, who lives in London.’
‘Investigating for what?’
‘The usual. Conspiracy to commit securities fraud and money laundering.’
‘That doesn’t sound good for Thomocoin,’ said Magnus. ‘Or its investors.’
‘No. Or anyone who was supposed to be regulating it. Which is why my bosses don’t want to get involved.’
‘How many Icelanders have bought it?’
‘Don’t know. We’ve heard of a few. But we’re not counting.’
‘Shouldn’t you be? If it’s fraud.’
‘That’s what the Americans say, not us. Some of our politicians still think it’s the future of money. It’s a minefield, Magnús.’
‘OK. I get it,’ said Magnus. ‘But I’m investigating a murder. I need answers.’
‘And I get that.’
‘Have you got the names of the FBI agents who sent the MLAT?’
‘Yeah, but I’d need to log on to the system at the station. They’ll be closed today anyway. I can send you the details first thing in the morning.’
‘Thanks, Sigurjón. That would be great. Investing in Thomocoin isn’t illegal then?’
‘No. That’s precisely what the fuss is about.’
‘But bitcoin is?’ Magnus remembered Dísa had mentioned she used to own some.
‘It’s a grey area. You can own it, but you can’t buy it or sell it under the Foreign Exchange Act. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if they change that. Mining it always has been legal, of course. All the programs chugging away on those servers out by the airport. But you know all about them.’
‘Indeed I do. Thanks, Sigurjón.’ Dísa’s ownership of bitcoin might be a useful stick to prod her or possibly her father with at some point in the future.
‘No problem. I’m sorry we can’t do more. And Magnús?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Let me know what you turn up. Unofficially. I have a feeling our policy is going to change on this all of a sudden, and when it does it would be useful to have a jump on it.’
Fourteen
Eggert Hafsteinsson lived in a house of green concrete up the hill from the police station in Akureyri, with a wife, three kids, a cat and a view through trees to the fjord. He had just taken one of his kids to basketball practice when Árni and Magnus showed up outside his house.
He was long-limbed, with thinning mousy-brown hair and small round spectacles, and he was wearing a disconcertingly bright orange long-sleeved T-shirt.
He led Magnus and Árni through to a living room. The smell of roast lamb for Sunday lunch wafted in from the kitchen. A small, wan woman wearing an apron appeared, introducing herself as Eggert’s wife Karen, and offered coffee.
There were clear signs of distress and concern on Eggert’s face, but he seemed willing to speak to them.
‘How’s it going? Do you have any suspects yet? I thought the first twenty-four hours were the key?’
‘There’s some truth to that,’ said Magnus, not answering Eggert’s first question. ‘We’d like to ask you about Thomocoin.’
‘Do you think that has anything to do with Helga’s murder?’
‘That’s what we want to find out,’ said Magnus. ‘I understand you bought some from her?’
‘Well, not directly from her. From Thomocoin itself. But Helga said she would get a commission. Which was fine with me. I think I get one too if I persuade any of my friends to buy it.’
‘And have you?’
‘No. That’s not my thing.’
‘Why did you buy it?’
‘It seems like a great idea. It was Dísa’s, really. Have you met her? Helga’s daughter?’
Magnus nodded.
‘I think her father Ómar told her about it. He used to be a banker, but he got caught out after the kreppa. I’m not sure exactly what he did, but he ended up in jail for it. Thomocoin is legal, isn’t it?’
‘It’s not illegal,’ said Magnus, remembering his conversation with Sigurjón.