Yrsa Sigurðardóttir - The Silence of the Sea

Bella filled her lungs, as grateful as Thóra for the fresh air. ‘But you’re wondering if Aldís killed the people on board.’

Thóra’s headache returned with a vengeance and she felt a sudden longing to go home. ‘I’m not wondering anything of the sort. Just whether either or both of them could conceivably be linked to the disappearance. Not necessarily as the perpetrators. But indirectly.’

Bella went off in search of Bragi after being assured that he would arrange the upgrade, and Thóra was left massaging her temples in an attempt to relieve the pain. Perhaps Aldís had no connection to her employer’s alleged death. She called the dates to mind and worked out from the information provided by Karítas’s mother that her daughter could well have been in Lisbon when the crew arrived. She could have become involved in an altercation with one of the men when they refused to let her on board, perhaps, or because they were confiscating the yacht that she may still have regarded as rightfully hers. It was not difficult to imagine how a row like that could have got out of hand. But what then? Had Ægir, Lára and the twins inadvertently stumbled on the truth, maybe by catching the culprit or culprits in the act of throwing the body overboard at a safe distance from land? Could that have led to their being disposed of in the same way? However hard Thóra tried, she simply couldn’t picture this chain of events. Surely no one would go to such lengths?

‘It’s unlikely to achieve anything but I propose we do it anyway.’ Even seriously sleep deprived, Thráinn still commanded respect. Ægir wondered for a moment what it would be like to be a captain with authority over everyone on board, like the dictator of a mini state.

‘There’s no other explanation. Let’s hunt down this maniac, then get the hell home.’ Halli was breathing fast and couldn’t disguise his relief that they had agreed to act on his suggestion of overpowering the stowaway. It was hardly surprising: as the prime suspect, he had the most to gain from their standing together. Either that or he would be left to confront them alone. However, their newfound solidarity depended on their finding the uninvited guest who Halli insisted must have thrown the body overboard and murdered Loftur. He steadfastly maintained his innocence and, like Thráinn, was very persuasive. Ægir could only hope that he himself sounded even more convincing about his own and Lára’s lack of involvement. He kept quiet about the fact that he had been awake for over an hour while his wife and daughters slept. Otherwise he would find himself in the same predicament as Halli – desperately trying to make Thráinn believe that it was not him.

‘How are we going to do this?’ Ægir shuddered at the thought of walking alone through the corridors, peering into every dark corner, with the risk that the murderer – whether it was Halli, Thráinn or the putative stowaway – might be lurking behind the nearest door. Ægir was inclined to believe that Halli was the guilty party but he could not entirely discount Thráinn since none of them were qualified to calculate Loftur’s time of death or ascertain exactly how he had met his end. Both Thráinn and Halli had been alone for most of the afternoon and there was no way of knowing which of them was telling the truth when they protested their innocence. Thráinn was calm, Halli on edge, and Ægir lacked the experience to determine which was the more normal behaviour for a blameless man. Perhaps there was no such thing as normality in a situation like this. He himself was still in shock from the sight of Loftur’s dead body and kept being assailed with the desire to break into hysterical laughter.

When they had reached the Jacuzzi, steam was rising from under its padded cover and all three had stood there at a loss for a moment until Thráinn decided to lift it off. Neither Ægir nor Halli had taken a step closer or offered the captain any help as he struggled with the heavy, slippery lid. And no one had said a word when it was finally removed and they were confronted by the sight of Loftur, submerged fully dressed in the hot water, his eyes and mouth wide open. Countless silvery bubbles clung to his hair like a tiara, rendering his death mask even more grotesque. It would be a while before Ægir could bear to enter a hot tub again after witnessing Loftur’s blank gaze. The memory of how the water had trickled from his nose and mouth after they heaved him out and rolled him over onto his back only made it worse. ‘I’m not sure I want to leave my family alone.’

‘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.’