‘Did he know right away what you were talking about?’ asked Erlendur.
‘Right away. He’s quite high up and he’s told me before that he has access to all kinds of information. He wanted to know if I was in the office and when I said I was, he told me to go home. Took my number and said he’d call me there. See what I mean? It’s that kind of situation. We had to change phones. He’s worried about wiretapping and all I did was mention the name of that airline.’
‘Did you call him at work?’
‘No, at home. He was about to go to the office.’
‘Did he call back?’
Caroline nodded and adjusted the rear-view mirror so she could see out of the back.
‘When he arrived at the office. I told him that—’
‘Hang on a minute, do you think you might actually be in some kind of danger?’ asked Erlendur.
‘I don’t know. He told me to watch my back and steer clear of you guys. To forget about Northern Cargo Transport and all that crap.’
‘Your boyfriend?’
‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ said Caroline. ‘He’s my ex. Try to keep up.’
‘Who’s supposed to be following you?’
‘I’ve been real careful. I didn’t tell anyone I’m helping you except my friend in Washington this morning. Not even my superior officer. My friend told me to keep it that way and to stop helping you right now. And that all phones are risky. I didn’t know that. I took mine apart — couldn’t find anything but that’s not saying much because I don’t even know what I’m looking for. I’m not sure about my work phone. Haven’t checked that yet. But you have to stop calling me. We can’t talk on the phone any more.’
‘What did you tell your man in Washington?’
‘I told him an Icelandic civilian had been killed, most likely murdered, and that you believe it happened in one of our hangars. I told him the man was a flight mechanic with temporary access to Hangar 885 where the Icelandic airline’s permitted to use the facilities from time to time. That he’d serviced a C-130 Hercules for a company called Northern Cargo Transport and discovered that it was carrying artillery. And that he found it kind of strange that a civilian operator should be involved in arms shipments so he started asking around about the company, and that you guys believe this might have cost him his life. That he’d been pushed off a platform in the hangar and afterward his body had been taken off base and dumped in a lava field.’
‘And what did he say?’
‘He asked me how the hell I’d gotten dragged into this,’ said Caroline. ‘I told him I was ordered to assist you and that you’d asked me to run a few checks to save you the time and paperwork and avoid unnecessary political hassle or however it was you sold it to me. He said you were just using me and that I shouldn’t be doing this and must stop at once.’
‘Did he imply you’d lose your job?’
‘I guess so. Or worse. Actually I think he was talking more like treason and court martial and all that shit.’
‘But you managed to persuade him to help you in spite of that?’
‘Yes, in the end. We... let’s just say he decided to do me a favour.’
‘What about Northern Cargo Transport? What did he say about that?’
‘He said it was run by the CIA.’
‘Did you say CIA?’
‘You heard me.’
‘Of course, that explains it,’ said Erlendur.
‘What? What does it explain?’
‘The company uses the same call sign as the American air force when they land at Keflavík,’ said Erlendur, remembering the conversation with Kristvin’s boss, Engilbert. ‘Their planes land here under cover of the army. When they enter Icelandic airspace they’re not distinguished in any way from the military jets. That’s how they slip in and out of the country unseen.’
‘That’s exactly what my friend said. How did you know?’
‘I gather that Icelandic air traffic control has noticed. But I don’t think they realise the CIA are using the company as a front to fly in here under military call signs. They’d be bound to comment on that. Especially if a civilian airline’s being sheltered by the military.’
‘Yeah, they would, right?’
‘Though I can’t be certain,’ said Erlendur, a little shamefaced. ‘Our relationship with the army is a bit unusual, as we’ve been trying to explain. It’s all tied up with money and Cold War politics and the fight for independence, and everyone’s at each other’s throats.’
Caroline gazed at the surf by the lighthouse, listening to the boom and hiss as the waves rolled ashore, then were sucked back out again. She wound down the window to hear better as they rose and fell as rhythmically as if the sea were breathing. She seemed much calmer now and had stopped checking the rear-view mirror.
‘But that’s the least of it,’ she said at last.
‘What?’
‘I heard some news about the Hercules that landed here in transit two weeks ago,’ said Caroline. ‘I found out that three men boarded the plane and travelled on to Greenland. After we... parted yesterday, I tried to find out what was going on, the little information that exists. Called up a couple people I know. Tried not to seem too interested. Said I’d received a request about a package for the States that was supposed to go by military transport.’
‘I’m sorry I upset you,’ said Erlendur. ‘I have a habit of saying the wrong thing, but I didn’t mean to make you storm off like that.’
‘Forget it,’ said Caroline briskly. ‘The plane was operated by NCT and was given special express treatment, according to a colleague of mine. The hold was never opened. It refuelled in a hurry and was back in the air in no time, headed for Greenland, possibly en route to the States. I don’t know what its final destination was. Could have been Greenland, for that matter.’
‘And you find that suspicious? Isn’t it standard?’
‘I’ve no real experience in this area but you were asking about the airline and its planes, so I got curious. Especially after I found out who hitched a ride on the Hercules.’
‘You mean one of the three passengers?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who was it?’
‘On the passenger list I was shown, which is a restricted document, it said “W. Cain”. And it occurred to me it could be the “W” Joan said was Kristvin’s sponsor at the Animal Locker. In this case the “W” stands for Wilbur.’
‘The man Joan...? Was it this guy Wilbur?’
‘I looked him up. Wilbur’s not a common name. It turns out there’s only one man with that name at NAS Kef at the present time.’
‘Wilbur Cain?’
‘Yeah. I ran it by my friend in Washington but he didn’t recognise it and said he’d check it out when he got to the office. He called me back earlier. Turns out Wilbur Cain’s employed by Military Intelligence. He was sent to Iceland about four months ago on assignment but my friend doesn’t know what it entails. He told me to watch my back with him — Cain’s the reason my friend’s now trying to find out just what in hell is going on here. He told me to quit making all these enquiries and sit tight till I heard from him.’
Caroline was growing jittery again. She fiddled with the mirror and stared frowning out of the rear windscreen.
‘Wilbur Cain’s most likely an alias. Cain’s an experienced agent, he’s worked on all kinds of covert missions for the military, and he’s an expert in making assassinations look like accidents.’