‘It looks like it.’
‘She set the two men at each other’s throats?’
‘And wasn’t really interested in either of them.’
‘So, on this basis, you believe she may have taken measures to get rid of Eyvindur once and for all?’
‘It’s possible. I’m going to check out Billy Wiggins. Take a closer look at their relationship. I’ll let you know what I find out.’
‘Right you are,’ said Flóvent. ‘We should meet. I need to fill you in properly on what Brynhildur confessed to me about the experiments she and Rudolf were conducting — and their impact. I’ll see you shortly.’
There was no sign of Major Ballantine when Graham received Thorson in his office at the old hospital and immediately began by reprimanding him for failing to report back. Thorson tried to excuse himself on the grounds that he had been rushed off his feet with the investigation, and had been out of town following up a lead, but Graham was fuming and didn’t calm down until Thorson reminded him that his commanding officer was Colonel Franklin Webster and that if Graham had any complaints about him, he should raise them with the colonel.
‘Are we dealing with spies?’ asked Graham irritably. ‘Can you tell me that?’
‘We still can’t say for sure whether the murder’s directly related to espionage. But we have found evidence to suggest that Felix Lunden, who rented the flat where the body was found, has been working as an enemy agent. We believe he’s been travelling to places of strategic importance in the guise of a salesman. Although we still have no confirmation of that. His uncle, a doctor who lives in Germany, recruited him as a spy, if the testimony of a family friend can be trusted.’
‘And this Felix is still at large?’
‘He was hiding out at his father’s old doctor’s office. The Icelandic detective I’m working with tracked him down there, but Felix managed to give him the slip. We’ll catch him soon. I’m convinced of that. He doesn’t really have anywhere to turn.’
‘Well, I don’t care what you’re convinced of,’ said Graham. ‘As far as I can see, the Icelandic police haven’t achieved a thing. My opinion, as I said, is that we should take this out of their hands if they can’t even solve a straightforward case like this one.’
‘It may not be that easy, sir. The victim was an Icelander and—’
‘Yes, well, I don’t give a damn about that,’ said Graham. ‘Have you found any papers belonging to this... this Felix? Do you know where he’s been? Who his contacts are? His collaborators? Have you found out anything useful about the man? Such as how he gets the information out of the country? Or exactly what information he’s been gathering?’
‘We’ve found out quite a lot,’ said Thorson, ‘but it doesn’t relate directly to his activities here as an agent, rather to his family affairs and—’
‘Right, in other words you’ve made no progress,’ said Graham with a heavy sigh, and Thorson was at a loss as to why he seemed so irritated about their collaboration with Flóvent. ‘I’ll recommend to Colonel Webster that Intelligence take over the case. You’ll be hearing from us. That’s all. Good day.’
‘But there’s no call—’
‘Good day!’
The soldier who had got into a punch-up with Billy Wiggins was one Private Burns. He was on guard duty with two other men at a small searchlight station on the tip of the Seltjarnarnes Peninsula to the west of Reykjavík. There was a fine view over the great sweep of Faxaflói Bay, from Keflavík and the lighthouse at Gardskagi on the Reykjanes Peninsula in the south, to Hvalfjördur in the north, and the mountainous Snæfellsnes Peninsula in the north-west. When Thorson introduced himself and asked to speak to Private Burns, a lanky, fair-haired boy of barely twenty stepped forward, his face a picture of bewilderment at this visit by a US military police officer.
Thorson took him aside and explained that he wanted to know more about his fight with Billy Wiggins, and if it was really true that he didn’t want to press charges. Burns nodded. He had a rifle over one shoulder and a large pair of binoculars hanging from a strap around his neck, for spotting enemy vessels. That was right, he said, it had only been a minor scuffle. Wiggins outranked him, and Burns was keen to let the matter drop. In fact, he’d all but forgotten about it when Thorson appeared and insisted on bringing the whole thing up again.
‘What exactly happened?’ asked Thorson.
‘I managed to offend him somehow, sir. I don’t really know what I did,’ said the young private. ‘Mind you, apparently he’s always flying off the handle. And he’s crazy with jealousy. But I didn’t know that at the time.’
‘Jealousy?’
‘Over that woman who takes in washing,’ said Burns, who had brought out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.
‘Which woman?’
‘The one with the laundry up by Camp Knox. She works for the garrison. I don’t remember her name... but the boys told me Billy Wiggins helped her get set up and pulled a few strings so she had plenty of work. He’s her boyfriend.’
‘Is her name Vera, this woman?’
‘That’s right.’
‘What about her? What happened?’
‘It was no big deal. I didn’t know she was Wiggins’s girl. He just went for me and started beating the living daylights out of me. Me and my mates, we’d been talking about the Yanks — how they’re overrunning the place and swaggering around like they own it... Sorry, sir.’
‘Don’t worry about it, private. I’m Canadian.’
‘Oh, anyway, we bumped into Wiggins outside Hótel Ísland. He was drunk and in a nasty mood. He knew a couple of blokes from Camp Tripoli who were there with us. We were having a laugh, saying were worried the local birds were much keener on the Yanks than us. Just messing about, you know, but it’s true. Since they arrived... you know... well, they’re a lot more popular.’
‘What happened? Wiggins didn’t like hearing that?’
‘No. He went for me because I said that blonde woman who runs the laundry near Camp Knox had been quick to bag herself a Yank. We talk about her sometimes, me and my mates. She’s quite a... a looker. I had no idea Wiggins was mixed up with her or I’d never have said it.’
‘The blonde woman who runs the laundry? Quick to bag herself a Yank?’
‘Yes. Anyway, he immediately loses his rag and starts asking what I mean by that and I blurt out that I’ve seen her with a GI. Then he goes completely berserk, starts calling me a liar, and before I know it I’m lying in the road and the bastard’s giving me a right belting.’
‘You saw Vera with a GI?’
‘Yes. We sometimes pass her place on our way out here and one morning this Yank was all over her. It was obvious he was just leaving. I didn’t dare tell Wiggins that or he’d have murdered me. So I tried to say it was an honest mistake but by then the police had arrived and he went nuts and ended up trying to take them on and all. He went completely berserk, poor sod, so they took him away.’
‘Are you sure it was her?’ asked Thorson. ‘That it was Vera?’
‘I’m positive. We’d been talking about it. About what a looker she was. But I had no idea about her and Wiggins. The boys from Camp Tripoli told me he was crazy about her, always tied to her apron strings, doing whatever she told him to. Helping her with her laundry. Sorting all kinds of stuff for her.’
‘But you saw her with a GI?’
The soldier lit a cigarette and nodded. ‘He was a lot flashier than Billy Wiggins, that’s for sure.’
41
Jósep had come to the attention of the police for a series of minor offences including vagrancy, drunk and disorderly behaviour, shoplifting, egg theft and the illegal hunting of eider ducks. Flóvent didn’t know how often he had been picked up, since such minor offences weren’t always recorded. There were two brief police reports under his name and in one of them, which was fairly recent, Flóvent saw that Jósep had given his sister’s name when asked for his current address. Flóvent drove over there, only to discover that Jósep had never lived with her; in fact, they very rarely saw each other, though the sister, whose name was Albína, was able to tell him that Jósep sometimes stayed at the Citadel, a hostel run by the Salvation Army. Curious to know what the police wanted with her brother, she was politely insistent that Flóvent come in, and before he knew it he had accepted her invitation to coffee. Although it was late in the day, her husband wasn’t home yet. He worked in the offices of Eimskip, the Icelandic Steamship Company, and lived in a state of constant anxiety about the fate of the company’s vessels in these dangerous times.