Ómar laughed. Dísa found the familiar sound oddly reassuring.
Dísa squatted down by the rock and lifted up the stone. Underneath lay the plastic food container.
She carried it back to the farmhouse and set it on the kitchen table. ‘Wait here,’ she said. ‘I’m just going to get my computer from the car. And then I’ll make the transfer.’
Árni met Magnus at the foot of the steps off the plane.
‘Blábrekka,’ Magnus said. ‘Now.’
They jogged to Árni’s unmarked car, and he set off, lights flashing, blazing through the centre of town to the road to Dalvík.
‘Are there any cops at the farm?’ Magnus asked.
‘I got a couple of the local uniforms to check it out. They saw no one there, not even the farmer.’
‘Are they waiting for us?’
‘No. They had to leave.’
‘What!’
‘There’s been an accident in the Ólafsfjördur tunnel. Injuries. One killed, another critical.’
‘All right,’ said Magnus. ‘But we need back-up. With firearms.’
‘That means talking to Inspector Ólafur.’
‘Then talk to him.’
‘You talk to him. I’m driving.’
It was true; at the speed Árni was driving he needed all his concentration. As Magnus picked up his phone to make the call, it buzzed.
‘Vigdís?’
‘Yes. Are you in Akureyri?’
‘Just leaving. On our way to Blábrekka. Jesus!’ Magnus lurched to one side as Árni’s car swerved past a car that was itself breaking the speed limit, narrowly missing a truck coming the other way. ‘Although we may never get there, the way Árni’s driving. What have you got?’
‘Several things. Dísa’s father Ómar is in Akureyri. He was on the same flight as Jói at 1450.’
‘Together?’
‘No. Separate bookings. Separate seats. Could be a coincidence?’
‘Maybe. It’s clear both of them think Dísa is up here somewhere. It must be Blábrekka.’
‘They were right. Just got the data through from the phone company. Dísa was in Akureyri this afternoon, but the last read they got was from a phone mast near Hjalteyri.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘Between Akureyri and Dalvík. She’ll have got to Dalvík by now.’
‘Blábrekka.’
‘Or a friend? A relative?’
‘True,’ said Magnus. ‘But Blábrekka has got to be our first shot. Could she have taken a bus? I thought we’d checked that.’
‘Her friend Kata’s car has gone. The cameras at Hvalfjördur caught it going north this morning. It’s a white Hyundai Accent. I’ll text you the registration.’
‘Good work, Vigdís.’
‘And Jói rented a car from Avis at Akureyri Airport. A blue VW Golf. I’ll text you the registration for that too.’
‘Great! Now I need to speak to Ólafur.’
Ólafur was not at all happy to hear that Magnus had arrived on his patch and was on his way to Dalvík. But no regional police inspector in Iceland could be impervious to the excitement of a request for armed police to hurry towards trouble. He called the district commissioner for approval, and within five minutes the armed back-up was on its way.
Árni was out on the open road now, the fjord flashing by on the right, the brute of a mountain above Dalvík approaching ever closer.
Magnus had an idea. There was no chance that Dísa would answer a phone call from the police. But she might read a text message.
He picked up his phone and tapped one out.
Fifty-Four
As Dísa went out to the car she felt the phone in her back pocket buzzing with a text. She ignored it and pulled out her backpack containing her computer from the rear seat.
She stopped at the entrance to the kitchen. There was someone else standing there, next to her father.
‘Jói!’ She dumped the backpack and rushed over to hug him.
He grinned, his blue eyes twinkling.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked him.
‘Same as Dad. Looking out for you. You told me you were coming here and, well, it all sounded a little dangerous. After Kata’s murder.’
‘So that’s your car outside? The blue one?’
‘Yeah. I rented it from the airport. I was out at the back of the barn looking for your grandparents when I heard your voice shouting for Hafsteinn.’
‘Do you know where they are?’
Jói shrugged. ‘They don’t seem to be on the farm.’
‘I’m so glad you’re here!’ She smiled at her father and her brother. ‘I’m so glad you’re both here.’
‘What’s that for?’ said Jói, nodding towards the backpack.
‘It’s a long story,’ said Dísa. ‘But maybe you can help me. It turns out that Mum’s murder was to do with Thomocoin, as was Kata’s. Long story short, I’ve got twenty million dollars’ worth of Thomocoin’s bitcoin in my wallet, and I want to pay it back to the investors.’
‘Twenty million!’ said Jói.
‘Yeah, I know. I lost my cold wallet, you know, the pink one Dad gave me. But I had hidden a back-up here.’
‘Is that it?’ said Jói, pointing to the plastic food container.
‘Yes. So, my plan is to transfer the bitcoin somewhere safe now, and then get that person to transfer it on to the investors when they have had a chance to set up bitcoin wallets.’
‘Sounds complicated,’ said Ómar.
‘It is, a bit,’ said Dísa. ‘Which is why you may be able to help, Jói.’
‘OK. So who are you transferring the bitcoin to now?’
‘Uncle Eggert. I’ve got his wallet address on my computer. All I need is to transcribe the private key. But it’s really long. Look.’
Dísa extracted the two sheets of paper from the food container. One was her mother’s and one was hers. She smoothed out the one covered in letters and numbers in her own handwriting.
‘See,’ said Dísa.
Suddenly she felt confident. The three of them, plus Uncle Eggert, could beat Krakatoa. Her family was there for her after all. There was still a lot to be done: she had to hide from a vengeful Krakatoa, and there was still a chance that a professional killer was right now on his way to try to find her.
But she would survive. With Dad and Jói’s help, she would survive.
And she would get some justice for her mother, justice for Kata. She would make Krakatoa pay.
She opened up her computer and, as she waited for it to load, she checked her phone. She had been ignoring texts all day.
This one was from the policeman Magnús.
She read it. And froze.
Krakatoa is your brother Jói Ómarsson. I think you are in danger. Where are you?
She unfroze. It had only been a second; she had to move, to stop Jói from thinking there was anything untoward in the text. She shoved her phone in her back pocket.
‘Who was that?’ Jói asked.
‘Friend from uni, wondering where I am. I won’t reply.’
She sat down in front of her computer screen and opened and closed programs at random, trying to give herself time to think.
Was Jói really Krakatoa? No. That would mean it was Jói who had threatened her; Jói who had killed her mother and her best friend. Jói could never do that.
And yet, here he was, asking about Krakatoa’s bitcoin. It was quite possible that Jói could have hidden his own private key at their father’s summer house. It was possible that Jói could run an online business.
Jói knew Helga. Jói knew Kata. Jói knew her.
And she trusted Magnús.
‘I’m just going to the toilet,’ Jói said. ‘I’ll be back in a moment to help you with that.’
‘OK,’ said Dísa, head deep in her computer.