LINDENBROOK: What bitcoin?
LAWRENCE: Jói’s bitcoin. He and I shared a hiding place for our cold wallets. She found it and took all his bitcoin.
LINDENBROOK: I didn’t know that. So Dísa thinks Krakatoa killed her friend?
LAWRENCE: Yes. Did he?
LINDENBROOK: I don’t know. I don’t know anything about this. But it doesn’t sound right to me.
LAWRENCE: Nor to me. Are you sure you don’t know anything about it?
LINDENBROOK: 100 %.
LAWRENCE: And is Krakatoa just one person?
LINDENBROOK: What do you mean?
LAWRENCE: I mean, does anyone else use the Krakatoa handle? Apart from Jói?
LINDENBROOK: No. Just Jói.
LAWRENCE: But that means it must be Jói who killed Kata.
LINDENBROOK: I don’t know. I just find that hard to believe.
LAWRENCE: So do I.
LINDENBROOK: By the way. I think Jói can read this. If he wants to.
LAWRENCE: I thought it was super-secure encrypted.
LINDENBROOK: Yeah. But Jói set it up. He could have set up an eavesdropping function without either of us knowing. Be careful, Ómar.
‘Hi, Dad.’
Ómar pushed past his son into the flat.
‘What’s up?’ said Jói, his blue eyes wide in alarm at his father’s expression.
‘Did you kill Kata?’
‘What?’
‘Did you kill Kata? Dísa’s friend Kata?’ Ómar’s voice rose to a shout.
‘Of course not, Dad. Why should I? Look, sit down. And calm down.’
Ómar had decided that the only thing to do was to have it out with his son. Face to face, not over the damn internet where Jói could hide behind his Krakatoa personality.
He sat down at the kitchen table, and Jói sat opposite him. Ómar studied his son. Could he really have killed an innocent woman, his sister’s best friend? He didn’t look as if he could.
And yet the evidence was incontrovertible.
‘Dísa took all your bitcoin. You wanted it back, so you threatened her with the death of someone close to her. She didn’t give it back, so you killed Kata. Now you’re threatening to kill your own sister! Dísa told me. The police told me — more or less.’
‘The police?’
‘Yes. They’re just guessing. But they are on to you. Dísa doesn’t know you’re Krakatoa. But I do. I know you killed Kata.’
Jói sat, watching his father calmly.
‘I had no choice, Dad,’ he said eventually.
‘You had no choice! What does that mean? You didn’t have to do it. No one made you. Did they?’ For a second Ómar saw a straw and grabbed at it.
But Jói didn’t magic up an evil mastermind from nowhere. If there was an evil mastermind, it was he.
‘Thomocoin is blowing up,’ Jói said. ‘I’m going to have to disappear pretty soon. Dísa has nearly all my money and I’m going to need it back.’
‘But you killed someone, Jói! And the police say you killed Helga too!’
‘I didn’t kill her myself. And I didn’t kill Kata. But I did arrange it. I had to.’
Ómar couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His anger evaporated to be replaced by dismay. His son, whom he loved so much, in whom he was so proud, was a murderer.
‘You got a hitman to do it?’
‘Yes,’ Jói said quietly. ‘From the dark web. I’ve never met him.’ He looked down at the table. He looked ashamed.
And so he bloody well should!
Ómar’s son looked up. His expression was hard to read. He looked like the old Jói, the shy, innocent, clever boy he had always been.
But he was a killer.
‘What are you going to do, Dad? Are you going to the police?’
‘I don’t know. You’re not going to kill Dísa, are you?’
‘Of course not! I’m only trying to scare her.’
‘But you killed Kata.’
‘Dad. I had to. I truly didn’t want to. But I had to.’
‘That’s crap, Jói.’
Now Ómar was faced with the certainty that his son was a murderer, he didn’t know what to do. He should report him to the police, he knew that. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He just couldn’t.
And Jói knew it.
But Ómar had to regain the initiative. He had to assert some kind of authority over his son — stop him killing his daughter.
‘OK. This is what’s going to happen. You are going to disappear now. Without your bitcoin. You’ll manage — you were always a smart kid. You are going to leave Dísa alone. I’ll stay quiet for a day or two, then I will go to the police. If you haven’t left the country by then, then that’s your problem.’
Ómar took a deep breath. ‘And I never want to see you again.’
Jói hung his head. ‘OK, Dad. I’ll go tomorrow. And I’ll leave Dísa alone. I promise.’
‘You’d better,’ said Ómar.
He took one last long hard look at his son. The killer.
Then he left Jói’s flat without saying goodbye.
Back in his car. Ómar called his daughter. She didn’t pick up, which wasn’t a surprise. So he tapped out a quick text: Spoke to Krakatoa. He will leave you alone now. You can keep his money. Much love, Dad.
Forty-Nine
Fjóla answered the door to her flat in Hverfisgata. She worked from home — but then everyone worked from home in these virus days.
‘Oh, it’s you.’ She wasn’t pleased to see Magnus.
‘I’ve got some questions.’
‘I’m sure you have. Do I need my lawyer?’
‘No, it’s not about Thomocoin,’ said Magnus. ‘Or at least not about your part in the fraud — if it is a fraud. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of questions about that.’
‘Just one guy so far,’ said Fjóla. ‘He was from the Financial Services Authority. But I’m expecting more.’
‘Has Thomocoin actually folded?’
‘I thought it had,’ said Fjóla. ‘But they refreshed the price just now. It’s down, but not out. And there are lots of enthusiastic people out there who refuse to let it die.’
‘But not you?’
‘I stopped taking any more orders a few days ago. If my clients want to buy, then they have to do it directly.’
‘And do they?’
‘Some of them.’ Fjóla smiled. Much of the bounce and energy had gone out of her, but there was still warmth. ‘Have a seat. Coffee?’
‘No, thanks. There’s been another murder.’
‘I saw it on the news. In fact, I saw you on the news.’ Fjóla’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Don’t say this has something to do with Thomocoin. I thought it was a sex murder?’
‘That’s what the killer wanted us to think. But, yes, we do think it has something to do with Thomocoin.’
‘Oh God.’
‘Was Katrín Ingvarsdóttir an investor?’
‘I don’t recognize the name.’
‘Can you check? She did live in Dalvík. And can you check her parents, Ingvar Brynjólfsson and Stefanía Jónsdóttir?’
‘Sure. One moment.’ Fjóla moved over to a laptop on a desk by the window overlooking the bay, tapped a few keys and tickled a trackpad. ‘No. None of them. Thank God.’
‘OK. I didn’t think so.’
‘So what’s the Thomocoin connection?’ Fjóla asked, returning to her chair.
‘We’re not sure precisely,’ said Magnus. ‘That’s why I’m here. Kata was Dísa Ómarsdóttir’s best friend. We think that Kata was killed to warn Dísa or to threaten her to do something. And we believe Dísa may have received a threat from Krakatoa.’
‘I see where this is going,’ said Fjóla. ‘You think Sharp killed her?’