‘When did you see Einar Eyjólfur last?’
‘Months ago. Not long after Egill died. I could tell he was worried then, but he wouldn’t talk about it. Who’s this guy?’ Kolbeinn asked, tapping Hårde’s picture with a forefinger. ‘A suspect, maybe?’
‘He’s someone we want to trace. That’s all I can tell you. How come Einar Eyjólfur was working at Spearpoint? Did you plant him there?’
‘Not at all. He applied and got the job on his own merits. It wasn’t until he had been there some time that he got in touch with us. We’d been friends since we were at university. Drifted apart when he went off to the US to do his master’s. He called one day and suggested we meet, about two years ago. That’s when he told me all about the Hvalvík smelter plans and he essentially became our mole.’
‘So do you think his employers were aware of what he was doing?’
‘Eventually, yes. I’m certain of it and I think that got him murdered. Not the people at Spearpoint — the ones who manage InterAlu. They are absolutely ruthless.’
Kolbeinn waved a hand at the mass of papers. ‘Somewhere in here I have a file on their business activities in Central America and in the Philippines. Breaks your heart, some of it.’
‘So who do you believe is responsible?’
‘For Einar Eyjólfur’s death? You’re the detective. You tell me.’
‘I’m asking you as an expert in your field.’
Kolbeinn looked Gunna directly in the eye. ‘Ultimately, global capitalism. But immediately, I’d say it was one of InterAlu’s people, a man called Horst. I have no doubt he was the one who gave the instructions. But who actually did the deed, I have no idea. Maybe this guy here?’ And he looked sideways through narrowed eyes at the picture of Hårde on the desk.
***
Everyone watched as Gunna brooded. She wondered briefly if Bjössi or any of the other older officers had mentioned anything about her background to these young police officers who had started their careers well after her return from extended sick leave to take over the quiet backwater of Hvalvík.
‘Any sightings of Matti Kristjáns?’ she demanded, brushing aside irrelevant thoughts.
‘Nothing so far,’ Snorri said. ‘According to Nonni the Taxi, Matti has two phones, one of his own and one that he uses for taxi work. Both are switched off. There have been no sightings that we’re aware of, except that the taxi went through the Hvalfjördur tunnel last Sunday and hasn’t been logged coming back.’
Gunna breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Our Matti has a long history of taking to his heels when it comes to trouble. We can assume that he’s at least still alive and is somewhere outside the city,’ she replied, aware that the others would now be wondering how she knew so much about a taxi driver’s personal habits. ‘I might even hazard a guess as to where he’s gone. Bára, Borgarnes?’
‘Nothing yet. The Borgarnes force is still knocking on doors in the area, but unfortunately they’re a bit stretched right now.’
‘Just like every bloody force,’ Bjössi said sombrely.
‘Yeah, but they’ve also just found a dope farm and investigating that is taking a good bit of their time right now.’
‘Now,’ Gunna continued. ‘Progress on our man, the elusive Mr Hårde. What do we have? Snorri?’
‘His credit cards are all in order. He’s been here quite legally as an EU citizen and he seems to travel under his own name and on a valid passport. We have no idea where he is right now.’
‘What else?’ Gunna asked, seeing a smile forming at the corners of his mouth.
‘I was up at the Lagoon site yesterday to go through the traffic schedule and as I was talking to the foreman there, I thought I’d show him the picture of our man. And what do you think? He’s working there as some kind of security adviser. Turns up unexpectedly every day or three, makes a few phone calls and then disappears again.’
‘Right under our noses? Bloody hell.’
‘Yeah. Seems he’s pretty discreet about his movements. But the foreman reckons he’s British or American, calls himself Hardy with a Y on the end. Shouldn’t we put a full-scale search into action and see if he can be flushed out?’
Gunna tapped the table with her fingertips in an irregular rhythm. Only Bjössi smiled at the reminder of Gunna thinking hard that he hadn’t seen for a long time.
‘No. I don’t want to spook him, and it’s not as if we have the manpower to sustain a full-scale search for more than a couple of days. Great if it works, but a disaster if it doesn’t. The man knows what he’s doing and I’m concerned that if we put pressure on, he’ll vanish.’
‘How?’ Snorri asked. ‘There’s only one airport and we can keep watch on all the flights.’
‘There may only be one airport, but there are plenty of ways in and out of this country, particularly for someone with this man’s experience and links to a company like InterAlu. They’re the next people we need to have a word with. Snorri, would you investigate and set up a meeting?’
‘Actually, I already have,’ he said shyly. ‘Investigated, that is. InterAlu themselves aren’t part of the picture at all, except as shareholders. The smelter is owned by a company called Bay Metals, which they own forty-nine per cent of and possibly more under other guises as there are quite a few foreign shareholders. The biggest local shareholder is a trading company called Spear Investments, which is owned by—’
‘Sigurjóna Huldudóttir?’ Gunna asked.
‘Well, her and her husband. The same company’s also the largest single shareholder in ESC and the Hvalvík Lagoon power plant.’
‘You know, we keep coming back to this bloody woman all the time. I think it’s time we had another chat with her.’
‘Shall I arrange it?’ Bára asked.
‘No. I feel it might be better to just show up unannounced tomorrow morning. Snorri and Bára, I’d like to have both of you with me on this one.’
‘You know who her husband is?’ Bjössi asked dubiously.
‘I’m very much aware that she’s married to the Minister for Environmental Affairs, but I’ve dealt with more unpleasant people than him in the past,’ Gunna replied, to sharp intakes of breath from around the table. ‘But I’m also sure that if anyone has an idea where our Mr Hårde is, then she does.’
Sigurjóna stepped through the Gullfoss Hotel’s side door with her sister Erna unsteady on her feet at her side and Hardy padding silently behind.
He kept to one side as they were greeted with flurries of kisses. Hardy flinched as cameras flashed and he watched as liveried waiters brought trays of glasses, choosing fruit juice for himself while Sigurjóna and Erna made short work of successive deliveries.
Boredom was something Hardy handled well. Military training had taught him to keep quiet until something needed to be said, and in prison he had learned to keep within his own thoughts for as long as necessary. Hunting for prey of four- and two-legged varieties had given him patience greater than that of any prey he had outwaited. Sitting at Sigurjóna’s and Erna’s table at an awards ceremony was not quite the same thing, but he still was able to call on old skills as the people around him chattered in Icelandic interspersed with odd English words, occasionally breaking into shrill laughter.
The food was acceptable, although cold, and in a restaurant he would have sent it back. But prison and the military had taught him not to pass up a meal, so he ate the fragrant but rapidly cooling lamb and potatoes, sipped his drink and enjoyed the sight of Sigurjóna, Erna and the rest of their group becoming progressively more raucous as the bottles of wine on the table were systematically drained. He wondered how capable Jón Oddur, the sweating young man detailed to assist him, would be in the morning.