As long as the police weren’t looking for him.
That meant more people had to die. Dísa, for one, after she had been persuaded one way or another to give up her private key. Probably the two old people in the barn. And Jói would have to kill them.
He had the farmer’s shotgun and a pocketful of cartridges. Gunshots from a farm in Iceland would cause a neighbour’s head to rise in curiosity, an ear to be cocked, but nothing more.
Was he strong enough to do it?
Jói wasn’t.
Krakatoa was.
Krakatoa entered the farmhouse, took up his position in the owners’ bedroom and waited.
Fifty-Three
Dísa drove quickly along the familiar coast road from Akureyri to Dalvík. She was anxious to get her cold wallet and transfer the bitcoin to Uncle Eggert. Five o’clock had passed, Krakatoa’s deadline.
Her life was now officially in danger.
She hoped that Krakatoa wouldn’t act instantaneously. That he would take a few hours to instruct whomever he was using to carry out his dirty work. Dísa wasn’t any use to Krakatoa dead; with her would die his only hope of getting his bitcoin back. He should have no idea she had transferred it to Eggert.
Despite that logic, she was still scared.
Maybe she should keep hold of the bitcoin and trust that Krakatoa wouldn’t harm her? Too risky. The bitcoin was safer with her uncle; she would feel much happier when it was his problem and not hers.
Don’t think about it. Find the private key. Transfer the bitcoin. And then get the hell out of Dalvík.
She was keeping an eye out for lone figures on the roadside who could possibly be hitmen — what did a hitman even look like? Then she saw one, just as she was approaching the turn-off to Blábrekka, a couple of kilometres before Dalvík.
But this lone figure was very familiar. He was standing on the bridge by the junction, examining every car arriving from the south.
She considered driving on, but curiosity overcame her. So she slowed to a halt just past the bridge, and opened the passenger window.
‘Dad?’
‘Hi, Dísa.’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Waiting for you. Can I get in?’
Dísa hesitated and then nodded.
Her father jumped into the passenger seat. ‘I’m so glad to see you! For a while there, I thought you weren’t coming.’
‘How did you know I’d be here?’ Dísa asked.
‘I didn’t. I just guessed. The police came to see me and said you had left Kata’s flat with a suitcase. I thought this was the most likely place.’
‘Did you tell them that?’ said Dísa. ‘The police?’
Her father smiled. ‘No. I actually sent them to Apavatn.’
‘So they don’t know I’m here?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Good. But I still don’t know why you came.’
‘To help you, Dísa. I’m worried. The police seemed to think that Helga and Kata were killed by a professional hitman. If that’s true, and if you are determined to ignore Krakatoa’s threats, then you’re in danger. You need my help.’
A lorry barrelled past them. Dísa was happy to wait stationary on the side of the road while she spoke to her father. They were nearly at Blábrekka — she could see the farm on the lower slopes of the mountain from where the car was pulled over — and she wanted to figure out what her father was up to before she dealt with her grandparents.
‘How are you going to help me?’ she asked.
‘By persuading you to pay Krakatoa his bitcoin.’
‘It’s not his bitcoin!’ Dísa protested. ‘That’s the whole point! He effectively stole it. I want to give all that money back to the people he conned. Like Mum.’
‘All right. I understand why you are doing this. But we have to take his threat seriously. I’m scared he’s going to kill you.’
‘I know. I’m scared too. But he killed my mother and my best friend — he deserves to lose his bitcoin. I will not give it him back. Do you understand me? Who is Krakatoa anyway?’
Ómar looked at his daughter and swallowed. Here we go, thought Dísa.
‘I don’t know,’ he said.
‘Dad! Of course you bloody know! How could you not know? You hid Krakatoa’s back-up cold wallet for him. How could you do that without knowing who he is?’
‘All right,’ said Ómar. ‘I do know, but I’m not going to tell you.’
‘Well, get out of the car then,’ said Dísa.
Ómar turned to his daughter, his eyes pleading. ‘All right, we’ll do it your way. You can pay the bitcoin to whoever you like. But I can’t just let you go off by yourself. I’m scared for you, Dísa. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. You need my help. If there is some killer out there looking for you, you need my help.’
Dísa looked at her father with contempt. But the contempt was wavering.
She did need his help. He had come all this way to offer it. He was dead right: she was in danger.
‘You know how much I love you, Dísa. You know I’d do anything for you. So let me. Please, let me.’
Dísa hesitated. Then nodded. ‘All right. But this is the plan. My cold wallet is at Blábrekka. That’s why I’m going there. Once I’ve got the private key, I’m going to transfer Krakatoa’s bitcoin to someone else. That person is going to transfer it to the investors from Dalvík and Akureyri. I’m going to go into hiding for a week. And once the bitcoin has been distributed to all the investors I’m going to talk to the police — I don’t want the cops grabbing it first. Are you OK with all that?’
‘Who are you going to transfer the bitcoin to?’
‘Who is Krakatoa?’
‘Fair enough,’ said Ómar. ‘As I said, we’ll do it your way. Let’s go.’
Grandpa’s old Land Cruiser and Grandma’s even older Suzuki were parked outside the farm, together with a small blue car that Dísa didn’t recognize. She hoped her grandparents didn’t have visitors. It was going to be difficult enough explaining her arrival, now with her father, without having to go in for chit-chat with a neighbour.
She tried the doorbell. No answer, not even from the dog.
She glanced over the fields. No sign of her grandfather or any farm machinery on the move. Bonnie returned Dísa’s gaze and, despite herself, Dísa waved to the horse. Anna Rós should be back from school in Ólafsfjördur by now, but there was no sign of her either.
She tried the doorbell again. Nothing.
She glanced at her father and pushed the door open. It was unlocked, but that didn’t mean anything — her grandparents never locked the door.
‘Grandpa! Grandma! Anna Rós!’
Nothing.
‘They’re not here,’ said Dísa to her father. ‘Come on.’
She led him down the hallway, through the kitchen and out of the back door.
‘Grandpa!’ Nothing. ‘Perhaps they’ve gone for a walk together,’ said Dísa, scanning the mountainside. Odd. That wasn’t what her grandparents usually did.
‘So where is your cold wallet?’ Ómar asked.
Dísa grinned. ‘You’ll see. I actually stole your idea.’
She strode across the farmyard, with Ómar following, and climbed the slope on the far side. A pair of ravens watched her closely from their perch on the fence.
‘Don’t tell me,’ said Ómar. ‘Is that an elf rock?’
‘It certainly is,’ said Dísa.
‘That’s where we sat when I was talking to you at your mother’s funeral.’
‘Yeah. And I told you to give the bitcoin back. Well, the hidden people were my witnesses.’