‘If Sharp is Krakatoa. We’re not certain of that, are we?’
‘Not certain, no,’ Fjóla said. ‘But it’s my best guess. And you can be sure that Krakatoa, whoever he is, will have paid someone to do it, not done it himself.’
‘I’ve just been talking to Dísa’s father, Ómar. He claims he wasn’t involved in Thomocoin. Is that correct?’
‘Yes. He made an investment, but nothing major. I don’t think he was involved in the operations, although he is an old mate of Sharp from Sharp’s banking days.’
‘Can you check how much he invested?’
‘One moment.’ Fjóla checked her computer again. ‘About five thousand dollars’ worth at the price he invested. Maybe twelve now at today’s prices.’ She gave a hollow laugh. ‘True value zero, more like. Don’t quote me on that.’
Fjóla’s brow furrowed as she processed what Magnus was telling her. ‘You don’t think I had anything to do with the murder you’re investigating? Because, believe me, I never would. I wish now I’d had nothing to do with Thomocoin. I thought it was legit. I knew it was bending the rules, but I thought that was in a good way. That’s how change comes, from bending rules. Murder is never good.’
‘No, it’s not.’ Magnus leaned forward. ‘Fjóla, I need your help.’
‘I’ll do anything I can to help you with that poor girl’s death. What do you want?
‘I want to talk to Sharp.’
NEFERTITI: Hey, Lindenbrook.
LINDENBROOK: Hi.
NEFERTITI: Are you safe? I heard you had to hide.
LINDENBROOK: Yes, I’m safe. How are you?’
NEFERTITI: The cops are asking questions.
LINDENBROOK: Don’t worry. We’ve done nothing illegal.
NEFERTITI: In fact I’ve got one with me now. Magnús. You’ve met him.
LINDENBROOK: Are you letting him see this?
NEFERTITI: Yes.
LINDENBROOK: Tell him to get off your computer and leave you alone.
NEFERTITI: He’s asking me about the murder of a girl called Kata. She was Dísa Ómarsdóttir’s best friend.
LINDENBROOK: That has nothing to do with Thomocoin.
NEFERTITI: It’s Magnús here now. I’ve taken over from Fjóla. Can you confirm that Lindenbrook is Sharp?
LINDENBROOK: I’m not confirming anything.
NEFERTITI: I understand. We believe that Krakatoa may have warned Dísa that he would kill someone if she didn’t do something. Kata is dead. We believe Krakatoa killed her.
LINDENBROOK:
NEFERTITI: So we need to know: who is Krakatoa? Is it you, Sharp?
LINDENBROOK: Krakatoa is not me.
NEFERTITI: Then who is it?
LINDENBROOK:
NEFERTITI: Is Dísa in danger now?
LINDENBROOK:
NEFERTITI: Are you still there?
LINDENBROOK: Dísa may be in danger. I don’t know.
NEFERTITI: In danger from whom?
LINDENBROOK: Look. I didn’t kill anyone. I don’t believe there is any need for anyone to be killed. I have nothing to do with any of that.
NEFERTITI: You do now.
LINDENBROOK: You can’t pin any of that on me. I told you I had nothing to do with it!
NEFERTITI: Maybe. Maybe not. But I do know that if you don’t give us the identity of Krakatoa, he may kill Dísa. And that WILL be your fault.
LINDENBROOK:
NEFERTITI: Won’t it?
LINDENBROOK:
NEFERTITI: It’s your choice: either you help Kata’s killer, or you help me. There is no opt-out; doing nothing is helping a murderer. Maybe helping him to kill again. If you have any information about who might have killed Kata, or if anyone is planning to kill Dísa, contact me. You have my card.
Fifty
KRAKATOA: Hi, Lawrence. I’ve changed my mind.
LAWRENCE: Lawrence? Ég er pabbi.
KRAKATOA: I want Dísa to give me my bitcoin back.
LAWRENCE: Well, you can’t have it back. We discussed this. If you touch her I will go to the police.
KRAKATOA: And if you go to the police I will have you killed.
LAWRENCE: What?
KRAKATOA: You read that right. Read it again.
LAWRENCE: Jói! You are telling me you will kill your sister and your father?
KRAKATOA: I’m not Jói, I’m Krakatoa. And I won’t kill you, someone else will. But if you tell Dísa to give me back my bitcoin, then nobody dies.
LAWRENCE: What do you mean nobody dies? Helga and Kata have already died.
KRAKATOA: Nobody else dies.
LAWRENCE: You can’t be serious.
KRAKATOA: I am serious. I’m not bluffing.
LAWRENCE: Dísa’s gone, you know that?
KRAKATOA: Gone? Where?
LAWRENCE: I don’t know. And neither do you.
KRAKATOA: I’ll find her.
LAWRENCE: Then I’m going to the police.
KRAKATOA: Listen to me. This is Krakatoa talking, not your son. There’s a difference — you know there is. If I’m going to get out of this, I’m going to need those bitcoin. Jói will be no more. So don’t go to the police. And don’t tell Dísa I’m after her. Or you will die. Is that clear?
LAWRENCE: Jói minn!
KRAKATOA: I’m not your Jói. And you are not my pabbi.
LAWRENCE: I won’t do it.
KRAKATOA: Yes you will. Bye.
Krakatoa closed the Telegram window.
He had crumbled when faced with his father, and, actually, that had been a good thing. Because as Krakatoa, he could stand up to him.
It had been hard to write those words: I’m not your Jói. You are not my pabbi. But it was necessary. And he felt better having written them. Stronger.
Much stronger.
The essential difference between Krakatoa and Jói wasn’t a negotiating tactic for his father. It was, Krakatoa had come to realize, his only hope of living with himself in the future. He had to become a new person, in a new country. He had to become Krakatoa.
Jói could never kill or even threaten to kill Dísa and his father. Jói was racked with guilt at what he had already done. Jói was worried about his girlfriend Petra and would miss her. The remainder of Jói’s life would be helclass="underline" a mixture of regret and crushing guilt, as well as a long prison sentence.
So Jói had to go. And Krakatoa had to do whatever was necessary to make that happen.
The passport waiting for him in the safety deposit box in the small Caribbean island bore a Danish name, Anders Madsen, so people in the real world would call him Anders. He spoke Danish, but with a strong Icelandic accent, so that might lead to some awkwardness if he bumped into a real Dane in future, but he would deal with that when the time came.
Online, he would be Krakatoa. Online he would be powerful and successful and very very rich.
If only Tecumseh had hung around in Iceland. Because if any more killing had to be done, it was someone who looked a lot like the real-world Jói that would have to do it.
But it would be Krakatoa.
To carry out a credible threat, he needed to know where Dísa was. That was easy.
He picked up his phone and hit her number.
‘Jói!’
‘Hi, Dísa. What’s up? Dad said you’d gone off somewhere?’
‘Yeah. I need to go back to Dalvík. I’m on my way there now.’ His sister’s voice sounded strained. It also sounded as if she was in a car.
‘What for?’
‘I can’t really say, Jói. I’m sorry.’
‘Are you in trouble? Does it have something to do with poor Kata’s murder?’
‘It does, yes.’
‘Can I help?’
‘Maybe. Maybe you can, Jói. But not quite yet. I may need to call you later.’