Caroline looked at Erlendur.
‘It’s him I’m afraid of.’
31
They sat perplexed, listening to the pounding of the waves below the lighthouse as the early darkness of winter closed in. Erlendur glanced up at the lamp that came to life and died at regular intervals as a warning to seafarers. He felt completely out of his depth.
‘What’s a man like that doing here of all places?’ he asked after a long pause.
‘I have no idea.’
‘And what on earth was he doing with Kristvin at the Animal Locker? How could they have met?’
‘Who knows?’ said Caroline. ‘Maybe Kristvin drew attention to himself by asking questions about the Hercules and NCT. Somebody was alerted, who alerted somebody else and Wilbur Cain was tasked with making enquiries about the man.’
‘But he went to the club with him,’ said Erlendur. ‘That’s hardly discreet. And Joan knows he’s called “W”. Would Kristvin have known his name? If this man’s a Military Intelligence agent as you say?’
‘I think—’
‘Not that I have a clue how these people work.’
‘Apparently it’s just one of the aliases he uses,’ said Caroline. ‘Wilbur Cain’s on home turf. He has no reason to go to ground when he’s on the base. He can leave the country at an hour’s notice and the authorities can deny that anyone of that name ever set foot in Iceland.’
‘So it’s possible that Kristvin wasn’t careful enough — he mouths off about arms shipments and private airlines and this Wilbur Cain is sent to find out what he’s up to?’
‘Maybe.’
‘He seems to have been quick to befriend him.’
‘Wasn’t Kristvin after something? Vodka? Cigarettes?’
‘Marijuana.’
‘Then it wouldn’t have been hard for Cain to strike up an acquaintance with him.’
‘Are you sure this Wilbur Cain is the same man as Kristvin’s “W”?’
‘Of course I can’t be sure, but it seems likely,’ said Caroline. ‘The airline’s a link — Kristvin’s enquiries about the NCT planes. And we know that someone called “W” was in Kristvin’s company on at least one occasion. Cain’s a member of special forces, so he must have been sent here on a specific assignment. I don’t think we should dismiss the possibility.’
Erlendur sat silently for a long time and found himself inadvertently comparing the two cases that were occupying all his thoughts at the moment. On the one hand Kristvin’s death, in which a superpower might have played a part, with its military installations and special-forces agents, and on the other the Dagbjört affair, the tale of a lone individual going missing on a remote little island in the North Atlantic. Caroline asked what he was thinking and Erlendur started to tell her about the girl who had vanished so inexplicably on her way to school in 1953, about the unsuccessful search for her, and all the years that had passed since then with no news of her fate. There was no way of telling — probably never would be — if a crime had been committed. He said Kristvin’s case presented such a stark contrast.
‘The odd thing is,’ Erlendur added, ‘that both cases have a connection to the American occupation. The girl’s route passed by Camp Knox, an area of old barracks built by the US garrison in Reykjavík. It’s rumoured she knew a boy there.’
‘An American?’
‘No, the soldiers were long gone by then, moved out here to Midnesheidi. No, a local boy. What I’m trying to get across is that we Icelanders just don’t know how to deal with what’s happening on the base.’
‘Nor me,’ she said. ‘You can take that as read.’
‘I mean, this is your world but it’s a world we simply don’t understand. As a nation we emulate everything you do without really knowing why and forget that we’re just a bunch of poor farmers, forced by modern life to live in blocks of flats. You’re the richest nation on the planet. The biggest military power in history. For most of our existence we’ve been fighting a losing battle against starvation.’
‘That sucks,’ said Caroline, momentarily forgetting her anxiety. ‘What... why...?’
‘Oh, a combination of factors. Volcanic eruptions. Earthquakes. Sometimes epidemics. But mostly bad seasons with prolonged periods of arctic conditions. Sometimes all of them rolled into one. But in spite of that we’ve managed to scrape some sort of living up here, and our generation and the generations to come will reap the benefits and be better off than they’ll ever realise.’
Erlendur pulled out a packet of cigarettes, lit one and inhaled. He wound down the window on his side to let out the smoke.
‘As a result our crimes tend to be rather old-fashioned and provincial,’ he continued. ‘Murders are rarely premeditated, though of course we have our share of notorious cases and mysterious disappearances, like any other country. But what I wanted to say is that they seldom have any international context. Perhaps that’s changing now. Of course there’s a Cold War going on in the outside world and it affects us here with its spies and undercover shenanigans. We know the Soviets have tried to recruit Icelanders and there have been incidents related to international politics, but, I don’t know...’
Caroline allowed herself a faint smile.
‘Times change,’ she said.
‘Yes, times change.’
‘Someone told me you can drive round the whole island in twenty-four hours. Is that true?’
‘Yes, it’s true. There are only 230,000 of us living here, speaking our funny language. Descendants of the Vikings. Once, the worst humiliation anyone could conceive of in this country was if a woman slapped a man across the face.’
‘And now?’
‘Now, like other dwarf nations we’re desperate for recognition that we have something to offer, trying to prove that we can play with the big boys on the world stage. That’s why we’ve got this socking great naval base here. We long to be important in some way. But of course we’re not. We’re of no importance to anyone.’
‘Sounds like me in high school,’ said Caroline, smiling. ‘I was always a bit of an outsider. Never managed to fit in. And now here I am, stuck in the middle of nowhere.’
‘Are you from Washington like your boyfriend?’
Caroline gazed out over the dark sea.
‘We met in the marines. I didn’t know what to do after high school and my dad suggested I try the army. He’d fought in the war and stayed in the army afterward and loved it. That’s where I met Brad. We were together for several years until it just wasn’t working any more. He was... I don’t know. I applied to be transferred somewhere far away. Wanted to high-tail it out of Washington as soon as possible. See the world. I thought Iceland would be a choice assignment. I didn’t know it was a windswept rock in the middle of the North Atlantic and that I’d end up helping out the Icelandic police. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not unhappy here. I travelled round the country a bit last summer. The scenery’s incredible. And I like the midnight sun. When the sun doesn’t go down in the summer and the nights are as light as day.’
‘Not everybody’s keen on that,’ said Erlendur. ‘So you don’t regard Iceland as a hardship post?’
‘Hardship post? No, I don’t think of it like that.’
‘Anyway what do you want to do now?’
‘Brad told me to lie low till he’d had a chance to look into the matter at his end,’ said Caroline. ‘So perhaps I’d better take it easy till I hear from him again. All that stuff about farmers and famine has soothed my nerves a little.’
Erlendur smiled. ‘Do you trust him, this Brad?’
‘Yeah. Brad’s OK — he’d never get me into trouble.’