Looking back later she could not understand why they had had Elías. As grown-ups, she and Elías would sometimes discuss the fact. He must have come as a complete shock to them. When her brother was being rowdy Kristín often sensed just how deeply he irritated their parents, as if they resented any time spent on their children, as if they found their offspring a nuisance and regarded them with disapproval. Feeling this neglect brought Kristín even closer to her brother. Yet their parents were never cruel, never smacked them or doled out harsh punishments; the worst of it was that if either child misbehaved, their indifference would become even more marked, the silence in the house even deeper, the calm and peace and quiet more consuming.
While Kristín had quickly learnt to adapt by creeping around, trying not to disturb them unnecessarily and taking care of herself, these were lessons Elías never grasped. He was noisy and demanding, ‘hyperactive’, their parents said. Their aggravation was obvious. He cried for the first three months after he was brought home from the hospital and at times Kristín would cry with him. As Elías grew up he was forever spilling his milk, knocking over his soup bowl, or breaking ornaments. Kristín quickly developed a stifling sense of responsibility and would chase him around with a cloth, trying to limit his damage. By the time she was fourteen she was his sole carer: on her way to school she would drop him off at day nursery, and after school would fetch him, feed him, play with him, see him to bed at the right time and read to him. Sometimes she felt he was her own child. Above all she made every effort to keep the peace, to make sure that her parents were not disturbed. That was her responsibility.
It took many years for her to discover the reason for their indifference and neglect. She had occasionally noticed the signs but did not recognise them for what they were until she was older. Bottles she could not account for would surface in peculiar places, either empty or half-full of clear or coloured liquid: in the wardrobe, in the bathroom cupboards, under their bed. She left them there, never removing them from their hiding places and they would vanish as if of their own accord.
There were other, more distressing signs. Her father would often leave on long business trips, or lie ill in bed for days. Her mother was frequently incapacitated, or saw things that no one else could see, though this happened rarely and at long intervals, so Kristín learnt to live with it, as Elías would in his turn.
‘I do wish we could spend more time with you,’ their mother once said to Kristín, and she noticed that oddly sweet smell on her breath. ‘God knows, we do our best.’ She was drunk when her car hit a lamppost at 90 kilometres an hour.
All these memories passed through Kristín’s head as she stood in her office, hearing news of her brother’s condition from a complete stranger. She and Steve had gone directly to the ministry from Sarah Steinkamp’s flat in Thingholt, a walk of no more than ten minutes. She lowered the telephone receiver slowly and her eyes filled with tears. She had not slept for more than twenty-four hours and still had lumps of dried blood on her ear and cheek. A familiar sense of guilt overwhelmed her.
‘They don’t think he’ll make it,’ she said quietly.
Steve took the telephone and introduced himself to Júlíus, the leader of the rescue team. It was still very early and no one had turned up to work yet but the security guard, recognising Kristín, had let them in. They did not intend to stay long.
Steve now heard the full story. They had found Jóhann’s badly battered body in a crevasse. Elías had fallen into the same crevasse but still showed signs of life, though Júlíus was forced to admit that they saw little chance he would pull through. His condition was very poor. Júlíus and his team were on their way back to camp and were expecting a Defense Force helicopter before long, but they did not know if they would make it back to camp before the storm struck.
‘Has Elías managed to say anything about the accident?’ Steve asked.
‘He’s said his sister’s name, nothing else,’ Júlíus replied.
Kristín had recovered sufficiently to take back the phone.
‘Elías didn’t have an accident,’ she said steadily. ‘Somewhere on the glacier there are American soldiers and a plane that is somehow connected to them. Elías and Jóhann were unlucky enough to run into them and were taken captive and thrown into the crevasse.’
‘Do you know where?’ Júlíus asked, and Kristín heard the screaming of the wind over the phone. He was on a snowmobile and had to shout to make himself heard.
‘We believe it’s in the south-eastern section of the glacier. We spoke to an old pilot who used to carry out surveillance flights in the area. I’m going to get myself up there, though I don’t know what assistance we can hope for. US special forces have taken over the base on Midnesheidi and the embassy here in Reykjavík. We’ve no idea if the Icelandic government is involved and the police want to interview me about a murder, so I can’t turn to them.’
‘A murder?’
‘It’s a long story,’ Kristín said. She had heard the police announcement on the radio that she was wanted for questioning in connection with the body of a man found in an apartment in the west of Reykjavík and immediately suspected that they would try to implicate her in some way.
‘The main thing is,’ she continued, ‘can I look to you for help if we make it? If we find the soldiers and plane, will your team be in the area?’
‘You can take that as read. But Kristín…’
‘What?’
‘It’s a bloody big glacier.’
‘I know. How many are in your team?’
‘There are seventy of us. We have to get Jóhann and Elías airlifted to town, then we can set about looking for those soldiers. But first we’ve got to wait for the Defense Force helicopter…’
‘Why not use the Icelandic Coast Guard chopper?’
‘It’s busy.’
‘Júlíus, I’m not sure you’ll get any help from the base at the moment. There’s a different crowd in charge there now and from what we’ve seen I doubt they’ll provide any assistance.’
‘They’re sorting it out back at camp. I’ve no idea what’s going on at the base. But I’ve already lost one man and the other – I have to be honest, Kristín – Elías is in a very bad way. There’s a massive storm brewing here. You’re telling me that I won’t get the help I need because of some special forces coup? I’m wondering – and I have to ask you straight – have you lost your marbles? I’ve never had a more bizarre phone conversation in my life than the last two with you.’
‘I know,’ Kristín said, ‘I’ve wondered the same myself. But there’s a reason why my brother’s dying in your hands and it’s far, far more complicated than either you or I know. I’m just saying that I’m not sure you’ll get the Defense Force chopper. Call the Coast Guard and don’t give up until they send theirs, whatever they say about using the one from the base. Insist on the Coast Guard chopper.’
‘Got it!’ Júlíus shouted.
‘Then wait to hear from me again.’
Kristín turned to Steve.
‘When are we going to meet this friend of yours, Steve? Monica, wasn’t it?’
‘Later,’ Steve answered. ‘We ought to try to rest until then.’
‘Rest?’