He had found some work advising his various employers on dealing with their cash-flow problems, but for that he was mostly earning goodwill rather than hard krónur. He needed his stash of bitcoin. Especially since his small holding of Thomocoin was now worthless.
And he couldn’t just pretend forever that he hadn’t noticed what Dísa had done. It would be an unpleasant conversation, but he had to have it sometime, and it might as well be now. He would call her as soon as he got home.
Actually, he had a shower as soon as he got back to his flat in Nordurmýri. As he was drying himself he turned the radio on.
A student had been murdered not far from the university. She had been identified as Katrín Ingvarsdóttir, nineteen, from Dalvík.
That was Dísa’s friend Kata, wasn’t it?
Oh, God! Poor Dísa. First her mother and now her best friend.
Weren’t they roommates now? Dísa had said she’d moved out of Jói’s flat and in with Kata.
He pulled on some clothes and called her.
No reply.
He texted her.
No reply to that, either.
He remembered Dísa had sent him a message with her new address.
He scrolled back through his texts from her and found it.
Forty
After Jói left, Dísa put together her own spreadsheet of the names on Helga’s computer that she had downloaded. She needed to gather together corresponding email addresses. Or maybe Facebook pages.
She recognized at least half of the names. She began googling, seeing if she could glean emails from the internet. It wasn’t difficult, especially for the Dalvík names. Facebook pages were even easier. The medical staff in Akureyri posed a little more of a problem, but she was pretty sure she would be able to gather contact information for 90 per cent of them. The rest she could contact through the online phone book, or through their friends.
As she was working, she was composing in her mind the email or Facebook message she would send. She was concerned she would have to persuade some of them that their Thomocoin really was worthless, despite the fact that the website seemed to have gone dead.
She also realized that she shouldn’t contact anyone with her plan before the five o’clock deadline the following day for fear it might somehow get back to Krakatoa or her father.
Her phone buzzed.
Dad.
She hesitated. Was he calling to see how she was? Or to demand his money back? Or to threaten her?’
She nearly picked up — she wanted her dad. She really wanted her mum!
But she didn’t want a fight with him now.
Later maybe.
So she ignored it. And she ignored the three texts from him that pinged on her phone afterwards.
But not the one from Matti.
Hey Dísa.
Oh Matti! I can’t believe it!
Do you want to talk?
Yeah. Can I come round to your place?
Sure.
I’ll be there in ten.
Matti was sharing with two other guys in a place half a kilometre away. Walking distance. For Kata. And now for Dísa.
She shut up her laptop and hurried downstairs. As she opened the front door, she saw a figure approaching her.
Dad.
She hesitated.
‘Dísa!’
She made to shut the door.
‘Don’t do that, Dísa! We need to talk.’
Dísa hesitated. Dad’s expression was full of pain, and sympathy.
He smiled. ‘Can I come in?’
The smile clinched it. She needed that smile. ‘OK.’
Dísa went back upstairs, Dad following.
‘I’m so sorry, Dísa,’ he said when they were inside the apartment. He reached out to hug her. She stood back. Then she let him wrap her arms around her. It felt good.
They sat at the kitchen table.
‘What happened?’
Dísa told him. The same story she had told many people that day. He listened. He seemed genuinely shocked.
As if he had nothing to do with it.
As she spoke, Dísa felt her anger rising. He sat there. Pale. Dazed. His straggly goatee seeming to droop with his shoulders. Weak.
Mum was right. Her father was weak.
Dísa didn’t know what his exact role in all this was. She was sure he wasn’t the leader. He was a follower. Dad was always a follower.
Weak.
Well, she felt strong.
She interrupted herself.
‘Dad? You know I took your bitcoin? I drove out to the summer house and found the private keys hidden by the elf rock and I logged into your wallet and took all your bitcoin?’
Ómar raised his eyebrows. ‘I... er... I suspected it was you.’
‘Dad. Who is Krakatoa?’
‘Krakatoa? I... I don’t know. Who is Krakatoa?’
For someone who had spent so much time in prison, Dad was a pretty bad liar.
‘OK. Who is K?’
‘K?’
Yes. K. The second private key you hid under that rock belonged to K. I took his bitcoin too.’
Dad just blinked.
‘K is Krakatoa, right? So who is Krakatoa?’
‘I told you, I don’t know.’ Firmer now, but Dísa was unimpressed.
‘Krakatoa is Sharp, isn’t he?’
‘What do you want me to say?’
‘I want you to answer my question!’ Dísa glared at her father.
Ómar looked down at his hands and then faced his daughter. ‘All right. I thought it was you who took my bitcoin. And... K’s. But I won’t tell you who Krakatoa is. And I want my bitcoin back.’
‘I’m going to give it back to those people who were foolish enough to believe Sharp and you and my mother.’
‘Wait a minute! I didn’t have anything to do with that! All right, I introduced you to Sharp and Thomocoin, and I’m very sorry about that. But I told you not to talk to Helga about it.’
‘It was bitcoin you told me not to talk to her about, not Thomocoin,’ Dísa said.
‘You never said you had given your bitcoin to your mother when I introduced you to Thomocoin!’
That at least was true. Dísa had deceived her father, at her mother’s request.
‘Look,’ Ómar said, aiming for sincerity. ‘I’m not part of Thomocoin, I promise you. That bitcoin is what’s left over from my trading. And I need it to get through the winter to next year’s tourist season.’ He leaned forward. ‘Give it back to me, Dísa. It’s mine. It’s not yours. And it’s not even those poor suckers’ in Dalvík.’
‘Poor suckers like Grandpa?’ said Dísa.
‘I didn’t mean that,’ said Ómar.
He clearly did. And, actually, he wasn’t wrong. Grandpa was a sucker. But he didn’t deserve to lose Blábrekka.
‘And if I don’t give it back to you? What will you do to me?’ Dísa asked.
Ómar seemed taken aback by that question. ‘You should give back what you stole because it’s the right thing to do,’ he said. ‘You know right from wrong, Dísa.’
‘Oh yeah? And should I give Krakatoa his bitcoin back too?’
‘Yes.’
‘Because he said he would kill someone if I didn’t?’
Ómar sat back. ‘What?’
‘You heard me. He sent me a warning a few days ago that if I didn’t give him his bitcoin back someone would die. Then he sent another one twenty-four hours later. And someone did die.’
‘You mean Kata?’
‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’
‘Oh, God.’ Ómar’s pale already skin went even paler — if that was possible.
‘So, Dad. Who is Krakatoa?’
Ómar didn’t answer. It was clear he had no idea what to say.
‘He told me I’m next,’ Dísa went on. ‘That if I don’t give him his bitcoin back by tomorrow at five o’clock, he will kill me.’