‘OK, Árni,’ Magnus said. ‘You may be right. Or, more likely, the obvious may be true: Gunni killed Helga because she had lost him millions of dollars. Keep an open mind. Gather the evidence. Don’t draw any preliminary conclusions, but if the evidence that Gunni is innocent builds, take it to Ólafur.’
‘And if he won’t listen?’
‘Call me.’
Agent Malley phoned Magnus just as Magnus was about to leave the station.
‘It’s all go. The red notices have been issued.’
‘For Sharp and Jérôme Carmin?’
‘That’s right. The French and British police know where they live. The arrests will happen tomorrow morning. I’d be in London myself to talk to Sharp, but I’d have to go into quarantine, so I’ll have to do it on a video link.’
‘Are you publicizing the arrests?’ Magnus asked.
‘We will. Once we’ve got the cuffs on them.’
‘That will mean the end of Thomocoin.’
‘As it damn well should.’
‘Have you alerted our people?’
‘No way. Given your guys’ lack of response to our requests, we decided not to. They’ll see the red notice eventually. But I owed you the call. Don’t talk to anyone else until tomorrow. We don’t want Sharp tipped off.’
Would someone in Financial Crimes or any of the agencies regulating finance in Iceland really tip Sharp off?
Sharp no doubt had plenty of buddies from his heady days as one of Iceland’s top bankers. So the answer to that question was a definite maybe.
‘I’ll keep it quiet. Keep me posted.’
‘Maja saw you yesterday.’
They had finished supper — pad thai, one of Eygló’s specialities — and Bjarki had sloped off to his room to do some homework.
‘I didn’t see her,’ said Magnus. Maja was a friend of Eygló’s from the University of Iceland.
‘No, you didn’t. She said she did wave. But you were too busy talking to a blonde woman. You were in a playground in Vesturbaer.’
‘Ah.’
‘Maja said she wondered what you were doing with this woman, who is quite attractive, apparently, and then she saw the kid you were with, who looks a lot like you, apparently, and she realized you must have been with your ex. Apparently.’
Eygló was trying to sound flippant, but there was an unmistakeable bite in her tone.
‘Oh.’
‘You didn’t tell me.’
‘No. Look, I’m sorry, Eygló. I should have done.’
‘And was it Ingileif who you met at 101 hotel?’
‘Of course not!’ said Magnus, his indignation ringing hollow even in his ears. ‘It was a banker. I told you. Skarphédinn Gíslason. He’s the CEO of Thomocoin. Why would I take Ingileif to a hotel and then tell you about it?’
The moment Magnus uttered the words he regretted them, implying as they did that he would take Ingileif to a hotel and not tell Eygló about it.
‘Can I believe you?’
‘Of course you can believe me!’
‘How many times have you seen Ingileif without telling me? Maybe you’ve been seeing her for years?’
‘No. No, Eygló. This is the first time, I promise.’
‘You promise? Einar used to promise.’
Einar was Eygló’s old boyfriend. Magnus had seen at first hand how good a liar he was; he had had lots of practice.
‘I’m nothing like Einar,’ Magnus said. ‘You know that.’
‘I thought that. I know I’m too trusting.’
‘Look, I’ve seen Ingileif, what... four times in the last eight years. There’s nothing to worry about.’
‘Isn’t there?’
Eygló’s eyes were angry.
‘Hey. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was seeing Ási yesterday. I really don’t know why I didn’t. I will next time.’
‘Next time?’
‘Yes. Ingileif said I could see him in a couple of weeks.’ Magnus corrected himself. ‘Maybe a month.’
‘All right,’ said Eygló. ‘I know how important he is to you. And I’m glad she’s letting you see him again. But don’t hide it from me. OK?’
‘OK,’ said Magnus. He resolved to tell Eygló every time he met Ási. He resolved not to kiss Ingileif again. He didn’t like feeling this guilty.
‘I had my interview with Southampton.’
‘Oh, great,’ said Magnus. ‘How did it go?’
‘It went well, I think. It sounds like they’ll make me a formal offer of a job.’
‘Are you going to take it?’
‘I don’t know. Am I?’ Eygló stared at him.
‘It’s really up to you,’ Magnus said at last.
Tears appeared in Eygló’s eyes.
‘Eygló?’
She sniffed and rubbed her nose. Then her face hardened. ‘I suggest you spend the night at Álftanes.’
Thirty-Three
Dísa had shown up to one class at the university and spent the rest of the day in her tiny room in Kata’s apartment, stewing about what to do next.
She had transferred the thirty thousand dollars’ worth of her father’s bitcoin and the twenty million belonging to ‘K’ to her own wallet. It had actually taken all night for the bitcoin to clear — it had to be verified by a ‘miner’ somewhere and added to the blockchain, a process that could take anything from a couple of minutes to a day or more, depending on how busy the system was. And the system was getting busier by the day; the pandemic had sparked a surge in crypto-trading from speculators trapped indoors.
Now the bitcoin was sitting in her wallet staring at her and she was staring at it.
She was scared. She had hoped that her father’s wallet had contained a couple of hundred thousand dollars’ worth of bitcoin, which she could take and distribute to the Dalvík investors. But twenty million!
That was more money than she could comprehend. It frightened her.
It would be enough to repay all the Icelandic investors in full. All the debts on Blábrekka; the farm would be saved. And there would be plenty left over for other investors in Thomocoin all over the world.
Who or what was ‘K’?
At first, she had thought it might be a second wallet owned by her dad, but the more she considered that the more unlikely it seemed. With all that bitcoin, K was clearly high up in the Thomocoin hierarchy, probably at the very top, and that didn’t sound like her father.
It did sound like Sharp. Sharp was a good friend of her father’s. Although he lived in London, his friend’s summer house in Iceland might well have seemed a good remote back-up.
How long would it take for Sharp to realize what had happened to his bitcoin? And what would he do once he had?
There would be no way for him to figure out who had taken it.
Unless he talked to Dad. And Dad remembered telling Dísa about the hidden people and the summer house. That was three years ago — maybe Dad would have forgotten.
Maybe not.
Dísa needed to figure out how to pay the bitcoin over to all the investors in Dalvík and Akureyri.
She had downloaded the list of names from Mum’s computer on to her own machine, but she didn’t have bank account details. All these investors would have had Thomocoin private keys, but not bitcoin, and there wasn’t an exchange for converting one into the other — that was the whole problem.
She needed help. The truth was, she needed more than that: she needed an ally. Someone with whom to share the massive weight of responsibility of those twenty million dollars. Someone good with computers. Someone who knew about bitcoin or who was smart enough to figure out bitcoin. Someone she trusted.