No, damn it. No!
She was glad Krakatoa had threatened her life and not another ‘someone else’ — Jói perhaps, or even worse, Anna Rós. Dísa was OK with being responsible for her own life. Someone had to stand up to Krakatoa, to stop him from sneaking off to Panama with other people’s savings, other people’s dreams. Other people’s lives.
It was she. She was the one who had Krakatoa’s twenty million under her control. The police couldn’t stop him.
She could.
She had a little over twenty-four hours.
She needed to figure out how to pay out that twenty million to as many of the Thomocoin investors as possible, including her own grandparents.
For that, she needed Uncle Eggert.
She had called him several days before to ask him to help her figure out how to pay out the bitcoin. She had explained that she had inherited a small amount of bitcoin from her mother and wanted to repay something to those people Helga had encouraged to invest in Thomocoin, including Uncle Eggert himself.
Uncle Eggert had been happy to help, promising to call the management of the bitcoin miner in which he had invested and to do some internet research.
She dialled his mobile.
‘Hi, Dísa. I just saw the news,’ he said. ‘Poor Kata!’
‘Yes,’ said Dísa.
‘And poor you! How are you doing?’
‘Not well,’ said Dísa.
‘Do they know who did it? Why?’
‘No,’ said Dísa. ‘Reading between the lines, the police think it’s probably rape, but they don’t have confirmation yet.’
She didn’t like to lie to Uncle Eggert, but she didn’t want to scare him off either.
‘Any luck with the bitcoin?’ she asked.
‘It’s proving difficult,’ said Eggert. ‘I spoke to the people behind the bitcoin miner I’ve invested in, and they say we really need a bank account abroad to pay the proceeds from the bitcoin into. That’s the tricky part. It’s just about impossible to set up a bank account overseas just like that. At least for ordinary people like you and me. It’s the anti-money-laundering rules. Banks need ID and they need to know where the money comes from.’
‘But what about all those politicians with offshore accounts?’ said Dísa. ‘The ones in the Panama Papers.’
‘They have contacts. And friends. I don’t. Except maybe your dad. But you said you didn’t want to go to him.’
‘That’s right. We can’t go to him.’
‘Because he’s involved with Thomocoin?’
‘Yes,’ said Dísa. ‘I’m afraid he is.’
‘I see,’ said Eggert.
‘Isn’t there anything more you can do?’
‘Short of flying to Luxembourg or Switzerland and trying to open an account directly, no,’ said Eggert. ‘Even then, I’m not sure they would let me. Or you. They would be suspicious.’
‘There must be a way.’
‘I was thinking: maybe the easiest thing would be if you could get everyone to open their own bitcoin wallets and you could pay each of them individually in bitcoin. Then it would be up to them to convert it to krónur.’
‘That doesn’t sound easy,’ said Dísa.
‘I’ve got a bitcoin wallet,’ said Eggert. ‘You could pay me. And you could get your grandparents to open one. We could get the word out through them to the investors in Dalvík. You say you have a list of them?’
‘I do. But I don’t have their email addresses.’
‘Maybe your grandparents have them, or some of them. If they managed to set up wallets to buy Thomocoin, they can figure out how to set up bitcoin wallets. Especially if it’s going to get back their life savings.’ Eggert hesitated. ‘Are you certain Thomocoin is finished? Is there any chance they will come up with an exchange after all?’
‘No chance,’ said Dísa. ‘The police told me they tried to arrest Sharp in London, but he had done a runner. They think he’s in Panama. It’s all gone, Uncle Eggert. All that Thomocoin is worth nothing.’
‘Shit.’
‘Yeah. Let me think.’
Dísa thought. Uncle Eggert’s idea might work. But it would take longer than twenty-four hours. It would take at least a week to contact all those investors and get them to open bitcoin wallets. Some of them, the true believers, would still be believing and would need convincing. Including Grandpa.
She needed to keep the bitcoin somewhere safe for that week in case anything happened to her. If Krakatoa did catch up with her, her private key would be useless. And if the worst happened, no one would be able to access the bitcoin. Ever. Thomocoin’s investors would never be repaid; Blábrekka would be lost.
She had to trust someone. And that someone turned out to be Uncle Eggert. At least he was family.
Dísa took a deep breath. And a leap of faith.
‘Could I transfer the bitcoin to you, Uncle Eggert?’ she asked. ‘Then you could distribute it when I give you the investors’ details.’
‘I don’t see why not. How much are we talking about?’
‘Just under two thousand bitcoin.’
‘OK. Wait a moment.’ Eggert had done the calculation. ‘Do you mean two thousand bitcoin or two thousand dollars’ worth?’
‘I mean two thousand bitcoin.’
‘But that’s twenty million dollars!’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s not Helga’s, is it?’
‘No. It’s mine. Or at least it’s in my bitcoin wallet.’
‘Where did you get it from?’
‘Thomocoin.’
‘You stole it?’
Dísa hesitated. She hadn’t stolen it — that was the whole point. ‘I took it back. It’s not mine, and it’s certainly not Thomocoin’s; it belongs to all those people who trusted Mum and invested with them. That’s why I have to give it back.’
‘I see. Do Thomocoin know?’
‘Probably.’
Silence.
‘Is that why Kata was killed?’
Uncle Eggert wasn’t stupid. ‘Maybe.’
‘I’ve got to think about this,’ he said.
‘OK. But please let me know. Soon.’
A plan was emerging. It wasn’t a great plan, but it might work.
Transfer Dísa’s bitcoin to Uncle Eggert’s wallet. Get email addresses of the investors in Dalvík and Akureyri. Persuade them to set up bitcoin wallets. Get their details. Get Uncle Eggert to pay them.
That would take longer than twenty-four hours. But it could take less than a week.
Dísa had until 5 p.m. the following day. After that time she would have to disappear for a week. Somewhere outside Reykjavík. And away from Dalvík and Akureyri. Iceland was a big, empty country.
Kata’s car was parked on the street outside. And her car keys were in a bowl right there on the kitchen counter.
Dísa reached into the bowl and slipped the keys into her pocket.
She plugged her cold wallet USB stick into her computer and logged into her bitcoin wallet. The bitcoin was all still there. If Eggert agreed, she would need his wallet address to pay him.
Could she trust Uncle Eggert? With twenty million dollars?
Probably. He had always been good to her. Dísa and he didn’t have a strong relationship, but Mum had always trusted him, as far as she knew.
She couldn’t be certain, but she didn’t think he would just grab all the bitcoin for himself.
She didn’t really have a choice.
More likely Uncle Eggert would decide to back away from helping her. He might decide it was too dangerous. It was too dangerous.
Then what?
The doorbell rang. It was Jói.
She gave him a big hug, COVID be damned. He held her tightly.
‘God, I’m so sorry, Dísa,’ he said.
It was good to talk to Jói. Not as good as it would have been to talk to Kata, but he was family. She needed family.