‘We’re sticking together, the three of us. It’s not up for discussion.’ Despite stifling a yawn, Thráinn still spoke with authority. ‘Your wife and daughters can wait here in the pilot house. It’s lockable from inside and there are windows in all the doors, so they’ll be able to see anyone who wants to come in.’
‘How will it help to see who’s outside if the man’s intent on breaking in? If he even exists.’ Ægir’s mind was racing; he knew this was his only chance to detect any flaws in the plan that might cost his wife and daughters their lives. His love for them was the only thing that mattered. To hell with the money, to hell with it; to hell with everything except them.
‘It wouldn’t be that easy to break in. The plastic in the windows is specially toughened to withstand gales and waves far more powerful than any human being. But if it comes to that, they wouldn’t be defenceless.’
‘Oh?’ Ægir’s voice sounded almost shrill and he paused to get a grip on himself. Laughter welled up inside him again over the absurdity of it all. Lára had never had any reason to resort to a weapon in self-defence. Normal life seemed more remote than ever: shopping for food, replacing the washer on the bathroom tap, having their parents round to dinner, changing the batteries in the smoke alarm. It all seemed so ridiculous now that it made his chest ache. He was on the brink of losing control. ‘What, are you planning to give Lára the axe?’ He gestured to the weapon that was hanging on the wall of the bridge but his hand shook so badly that he quickly lowered his arm. It wouldn’t do for the other two to see what a state he was in.
‘No.’ Thráinn was as imperturbable as Ægir was agitated. ‘I’m going to lend her a revolver.’
Unable to help himself, Ægir finally began to giggle. Soon it had spiralled into helpless laughter that reminded him of his short-lived experiments with smoking grass in the sixth form. Pointless, self-propagating mirth. The other two men stared at him until he couldn’t laugh any more and broke into noisy hiccups. ‘She doesn’t know how to use a gun.’ Another brief gust of wild hilarity followed.
‘It’s not exactly difficult.’ Thráinn looked concerned, doubtless more over Ægir’s state of mind than Lára’s ability to use a firearm. ‘She just has to point and pull the trigger.’
‘Is that a good idea?’ Halli blurted out the words before he realised how they could be interpreted – that he would rather she were unarmed and therefore easier to overpower. ‘I mean, she might be a danger to herself or shoot the girls by mistake.’
‘I reckon she’s too sensible for that. I’d sooner trust her with the gun than you two.’ As Thráinn studied them both he seemed to be drawing no distinction between them.
It dawned on Ægir how pathetic they must appear. It was some comfort to think that Halli, constantly licking his lips and shivering, cut no better a figure than he did himself. The captain was right; Lára couldn’t fare any worse than them. ‘Shall I fetch her and the girls?’
‘Yes. We’ll wait here.’ Thráinn pointed to a seat and ordered Halli to sit down. Then he turned the pilot’s chair round to keep him in view. ‘Get a move on. Don’t dawdle.’
On the way to the cabin Ægir wiped his eyes, which were still wet from laughing. He took several deep breaths and hoped he would recover his self-control. It was essential to keep calm while talking to Lára because if he showed the slightest hint of nerves, he would infect the twins, and no doubt her as well, with his anxiety. It was the first time since finding Loftur that he had admitted to himself how he felt. He was not just shaken or alarmed; he was terrified.
Before entering the cabin, he cleared his throat and rubbed his face in the hope of obliterating the marks of fear. Then, smiling weakly, he opened the door. His wife and daughters were awake and sitting up in bed, though still under the duvet. Three identical pairs of eyes stared at him and in each he read that he had failed to conceal his fear. ‘What? What’s the matter?’ Lára flung off the duvet and got out of bed.
‘Nothing. But something’s come up and we need to go to the bridge. It’s nothing to worry about, though. We’re going to search the ship and we want you to wait in the pilot house in the meantime. You too, girls.’ He signalled to Lára that he needed to speak to her alone. ‘Collect up your books and cards, then come along. Your mother and I will be outside in the corridor.’ The girls looked surprised but said nothing.
Lára hurriedly slipped on her shoes and threw a cardigan over her shoulders. ‘You needn’t hurry. We’re happy to wait,’ she said to the girls. She looked anything but happy, however, and as soon as the door swung to behind them, she made her feelings known. ‘Please don’t tell me if something bad has happened. Please, just let me believe that everything’s all right and that we can count the hours till we’re home. Please.’ Her eyes were beseeching and she hugged the cardigan to her as if she could hide inside it.
Ægir felt as if the words were being torn from his throat. He wanted to lie to her and say it had only been an excuse to get her to himself; that if they were quick they could take each other here and now in this overblown burgundy corridor. ‘I really wish I could.’ He told her about Loftur, that it was urgent to find out whether there was an uninvited guest hiding on board, and that while they were searching the boat, she would have to wait alone on the bridge with the girls. He waited for this to sink in before telling her about the gun.
‘Gun? Have you gone out of your mind?’ She slapped him. The blow was not hard or intended to inflict pain but it was the first time physical violence had ever been used between them.
‘Lára!’ Ægir was speechless.
‘What if this stupid search of yours doesn’t reveal anything? Well?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘What am I to do if it’s not you who comes back but Thráinn? Or Halli? Am I supposed to shoot them?’
‘No.’ Ægir hesitated, cursing himself for having told the girls they needn’t hurry.
‘What if Halli claims he became separated from you and wants to come in? Am I supposed to shoot him in front of the girls? Be standing over his bleeding corpse when you and Thráinn come back? Are you all out of your minds?’
‘No.’ Ægir couldn’t meet her eye; couldn’t cope with this. He wished Thráinn was here to convince her and had to restrain himself from tearing open the cabin door and yelling at the girls to get a move on. The captain would make Lára see sense. He took himself in hand. ‘If anything like that happens, you mustn’t let Halli in. And if Thráinn and I don’t reappear soon, you may have to decide what action to take. And if Halli – or Thráinn or this imaginary stowaway – tries to break in, at least you’ll be armed.’ He felt relieved, convinced by his own arguments.
‘But what if Thráinn’s behind all this? Do you really think he’d give me a loaded gun? Do you know the difference between blanks and live ammunition?’ She observed his consternation. ‘I thought not.’
Mercifully, the girls now appeared with their arms full of books and other items that he and Lára had taken down to the cabin when they locked themselves in. They knew something serious was happening and kept quiet. Ægir made a lame joke about their not being short of stuff. They were to go straight up to the bridge and before they knew it they would be captaining the ship and finally things would start going right. Nobody smiled and they made their way in silence up to the pilot house where Thráinn and Halli were waiting. The captain took Lára aside and spoke to her while Ægir showed the girls the yacht’s steering system. He kept glancing over to see what was passing between his wife and the captain, and gulped when he saw Lára receive with trembling hands a parcel which must be the revolver, wrapped in a grey cloth. She stuck it clumsily into her waistband and pulled her top over it with a pained expression. Ægir turned away at once and made some meaningless remark to the girls.