“He’s in a retirement home in Akureyri and says he’s not coming back south in this life. He gave us a fairly accurate description of where he opened the floor.”
“We’re also inserting a camera down the sewage pipe. Looking at the plumbing, seeing if it’s all right, to find out if we can see the old repair.”
“Do you really need a drill that big?” Erlendur asked, nodding towards the tractor.
“I haven’t the faintest idea. We’ve got smaller electric drills, but they couldn’t penetrate wet shit. We’ve got smaller pneumatics and if we find a hollow we can drill through the base plate and slip a little camera through it like they use for inspecting damaged sewage pipes.”
“Hopefully that will do. We don’t want to have to smash the whole house down.”
“There’s a bloody stench in that dump anyway,” the head of forensics said, and they walked off towards the basement. Three forensic experts wearing white paper overalls, with plastic gloves and hammers, were walking around the flat, banging on the stone floor and marking with blue felt-tip pens where they thought it sounded hollow.
“According to the buildings surveyors’ office the basement was converted into a flat in I959,” Erlendur said. “Holberg bought it in I962 and probably moved in straightaway. He’d lived here ever since.”
One of the forensics people came up to them and greeted Erlendur. He had a set of drawings of the building, one for each floor.
“The toilets are in the centre of each floor. The sewage pipes come down from the floors above and enter the foundations where the basement toilet is. It was already in the basement before the conversion, and you could imagine the flat being designed around it. The toilet’s linked up to the sewage pipe in the bathroom, then the pipe continues due east through part of the sitting room, under the bedroom and out into the street.”
“The search isn’t confined to the sewage pipe,” the head of forensics said.
“No, but we’ve put a camera into the drain from the street. They were just telling me the pipe’s split where it enters the bedroom and we thought we’d ake a look there first. It’s in a similar place to where I understand the floor was opened.”
Ragnar nodded and looked at Erlendur, who shrugged as if what forensics did was none of his business.
“It can’t be a very old split,” the head of forensics said. “The smell must be coming from there. Are you saying this man was buried in the foundations over 25 years ago?”
“He disappeared then, at least,” Erlendur said.
Their words merged into the hammering that became a continuous din echoing between the empty walls. The forensics expert took some ear defenders out of a black case the size of a small suitcase and put them on, then picked up one of the small electric drills and plugged it in. He pressed the trigger a few times to test it, then thrust it down on the floor and started breaking it up. The noise was awful and the rest of the forensic team put on ear defenders too. He made little headway. The solid concrete barely flaked. He gave up trying and shook his head.
“We need to start up the tractor,” he said, fine dust covering his face. “And bring the pneumatic in. And we need masks. What bloody idiot had this brilliant idea anyway?” he said and spat on the floor.
“Holberg would hardly have used a pneumatic drill under cover of darkness,” the head of forensics said.
“He didn’t need to do anything under cover of arkness,” Erlendur said. “The plumber made the hole in the floor for him.”
“Do you reckon he put him down the shithole?”
“We’ll see. Maybe he needed to rearrange things in the foundations. Maybe it’s all a misunderstanding.”
Erlendur went out into the night air. Sigurdur Oli and Elinborg were sitting in the car eating hotdogs that Sigurdur Oli had bought from the nearest kiosk. A hotdog was waiting for Erlendur on the dashboard. He wolfed it down.
“If we find Gretar’s body here, what does that tell us?” Elinborg asked Erlendur and wiped her mouth.
“I wish I knew,” Erlendur said thoughtfully. “I just wish I knew.”
At that moment the chief superintendent came hurrying over, banged on the window, opened the door and told Erlendur to come with him for a moment. Sigurdur Oli and Elinborg got out of the car as well. The chief superintendent’s name was Hrolfur and he’d been off sick during the day but seemed fit as a fiddle now. He was very fat and the way he dressed hid it badly. He was the lethargic type and rarely contributed anything to the investigations. He was off sick for weeks every year.
“Why wasn’t I contacted about these operations?” he asked, visibly angry.
“You’re ill,” Erlendur said.
“Bollocks,” Hrolfur said. “Don’t you think you can go running the department as you please. I’m your superior. You talk to me about this kind of peration before you go putting your bloody stupid brainwaves into practice!”
“Wait a minute, I thought you were ill,” Erlendur repeated, feigning surprise.
“And how did it ever occur to you to hoodwink the police commissioner like that?” Hrolfur hissed. “How did it occur to you that there’s a man under the floor here? You’ve got nothing to go on. Absolutely nothing except some crap about house foundations and a smell. Have you gone mad?”
Sigurdur Oli walked hesitantly over to them.
“There’s a woman here I think you ought to talk to, Erlendur,” he said, holding out the phone which Erlendur had left behind in the car. “It’s personal. She’s quite worked up.”
Hrolfur turned to Sigurdur Oli and told him to piss off and leave them alone.
Sigurdur Oli didn’t give way.
“You ought to talk to her immediately, Erlendur,” he said.
“What’s the meaning of this? You act as if I don’t exist!” Hrolfur shouted, stamping his foot. “Is this a bloody conspiracy? Erlendur, if we’re going to smash up the foundations of people’s houses because they smell, we’ll end up never doing anything else. It’s totally absurd! It’s ridiculous.”
“Marion Briem had this interesting idea,” Erlendur said as calmly as before, “and I thought it was worth investigating. The police commissioner thought so too. Do excuse me for not contacting you, but I’m pleased to see you’re back on your feet. and I really must say, Hrolfur, that you’re looking exceptionally perky. Please excuse me.”
Erlendur walked past Hrolfur, who stared at him and Sigurdur Oli, ready to say something, but not knowing what it ought to be.
“One thing occurred to me,” Erlendur said. “I should have done it ages ago.”
“What?” Sigurdur Oli said.
“Contact the Harbour and Lighthouse Authority and find out if they can tell whether Holberg was in Husavik or thereabouts in the early ’60s.”
“Okay. Here, talk to this woman.”
“Which woman?” Erlendur said and took the phone. “I don’t know any woman.”
“They put her through to your mobile. She’d been asking for you at the office. They told her you were busy, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
At that moment the pneumatic drill on the tractor started up. A deafening noise came from the basement and they saw a thick cloud of dust billowing out. The police had covered all the windows so no-one could see inside. Everyone apart from the drill operator had gone outside and they all stood at a distance, waiting. They looked at their watches and seemed to be discussing how late it was. They knew they couldn’t go on making that noise all evening in the middle of a residential area. They’d have to stop soon and continue the next morning or take other action.
Erlendur hurried into the car with his phone and closed the door on the noise. He recognised the voice immediately.