Yrsa Sigurðardóttir - The Silence of the Sea

‘Sigga Dögg doesn’t know Mummy’s dead.’ Arna closed her eyes. ‘She’s so lucky.’

‘She’ll find out, darling, as soon as we see her again. But I’m not sure she’ll understand. She’s so young.’

‘She’s still lucky. I wish I didn’t know.’

‘Me too.’ He would have given anything to have Lára back but, since that was impossible, he wished he could have deceived himself, even if only for a few days or until they reached port. Having to cope with the grief and terrifying uncertainty at the same time was unendurable. He felt as if the chances of a happy ending would be many times greater if all he had to contend with right now was the uncertainty. But deep down he knew it wasn’t like that; there could be no good moves in this game.

‘Can we go up on deck and see if we can spot Iceland?’

‘No,’ he snapped and immediately regretted how harsh it sounded. He didn’t want Arna to suspect that something even worse had happened. ‘It’s too dark. We wouldn’t be able to see.’

‘We would. There might be lights. You can see lights from outer space.’

‘That only applies to big cities. I’m sure Reykjavík isn’t visible from space or from this far out at sea, for that matter.’ He lacked the energy to explain about the curvature of the earth. ‘All there’d be is black sea and more black sea.’

‘Perhaps the captain has binoculars that work in the dark. We could go and find him. I don’t believe he’s a bad man.’

‘No, I don’t suppose he is, but it doesn’t change the fact that only soldiers and commandos have binoculars like that. They cost a bomb and, anyway, sailors don’t need to see in the dark; they have radar and all kinds of other equipment to do it for them.’ Ægir hastily steered the conversation away from Thráinn; it was easier to talk nonsense about binoculars. The memory of how the man’s body had floated away was too horrible, and somewhere at the back of his mind a voice whispered that the captain had not been quite dead when he was thrown overboard. The voice grew ever more insistent, though Ægir didn’t believe it. If that had been true, surely Thráinn would have at least attempted to raise his head out of the water? And what did it matter if he had drowned within reach? Thráinn had given Lára the gun and Ægir would never forgive him for that. It had almost certainly influenced his decision to do nothing as Thráinn vanished into the darkness. The captain was to blame for Lára’s death. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. ‘Aren’t you thirsty?’

Arna shook her head and lay down on her back. She stared up at the same ceiling tile as Ægir had focused on earlier; perhaps like him she found it soothing to have nothing but its blank white surface before her eyes, not reminding her of anything. He longed to lie down beside her and copy her example but stopped himself. There were important matters to think about; such as how to act for the best in their current predicament. A noise overhead made him start and shoot an involuntary glance at the ceiling. It sounded as if it was coming from the same deck that Thráinn’s body had been dragged over. The noise, innocent enough in itself, would not have startled him in other circumstances, but now it reminded him that Halli was still at large and doubtless preparing his next move, which would surely be aimed against him and the girls. ‘What’s the matter, Daddy?’ Arna had turned to him and her face reflected his own alarm.

‘Nothing, darling. I’m just tired.’

‘Do you think it’s the bad man? The man Halli said was on the boat?’

‘No. There’s no one else here. It’s probably only Halli.’ Ægir had to make sure that neither Arna nor Bylgja found out what had happened to Thráinn. If they panicked it would make the whole situation far worse. Things were bad enough already. ‘Or Thráinn.’ All at once he regretted throwing the gun overboard. If he hadn’t, he could have hunted Halli down and killed him. The thought wasn’t in the least shocking. On the contrary, it was so tempting that he allowed his mind to play out the sequence of events, a smile rising to his lips as he blasted imaginary bullets into the young man’s back. It faded the instant Ægir forced himself back to earth. He must concentrate.

Bylgja stirred and half-opened her eyes. She appeared to be still asleep, though her gaze was resting on the colouring book that lay open in front of her. Arna passed her the red glasses and she sat up, struggling to focus, yawned and put them on. ‘I dreamt about Mummy.’

‘I didn’t.’ Arna looked hurt, as if her mother had been showing favouritism from beyond the grave. ‘I didn’t dream about anything.’

Ægir tried to block out his daughters’ chatter and concentrate on the sounds outside. Halli must need to sleep at some point as he’d had no more rest than Ægir. Even if he’d seized the opportunity while Ægir was dozing, a short nap like that would not have been enough to overcome his fatigue. But if Ægir could find out when next Halli went to sleep, he would have a chance to act to secure his daughters’ safety. For that he would need a plan, though. So far the only idea that had occurred to him was to escape in a lifeboat. Perhaps that would do. He didn’t have time to consider all the options and assess which was the right one. After all, there was no right decision.

They heard the door to the corridor open, then slam shut. Ægir gasped, feeling his heart miss a beat. What if there was another gun on board and Halli had got hold of it? What point would there be planning their getaway or trying to defend themselves? ‘Who’s that, Daddy?’ Arna whispered anxiously. She must sense that he felt threatened by whoever was out there. He laid a finger on his lips. The girls’ eyes widened and Bylgja clasped her hands over her mouth as if to prevent herself from screaming. Ægir came close to emulating her when he pressed his ear to the door and heard somebody walking along the corridor, systematically trying the handles to the cabins. Adrenaline coursed through Ægir’s veins for the split second that he doubted he had locked the door. But when their handle was grasped from outside, the door remained shut. All three stared transfixed at the handle, which remained motionless for a moment before someone turned it again, more forcefully. None of them said a word or moved so much as a little finger, as if they were actors in a film that had been paused. Not until they heard footsteps retreating down the corridor and the door at the end opening and closing again did they draw breath.

‘Who was that?’ Arna eyed the door as if she expected it to burst open any minute. Ægir felt the same. Although the corridor seemed empty, it might be a trap. And who could it have been? Halli knew precisely which cabin Ægir and Lára had been occupying and he also knew which room the girls were using. So why had he walked all the way down the row? Was it not Halli after all? The more he considered this possibility, the more his doubts grew. Surely Halli would know where the master key was kept, unless there was no such key on board? Perhaps it was Halli and he had gone to fetch the axe from the bridge in order to break down the door. Or perhaps it was someone else entirely.

‘Who was that, Daddy? Was it the bad man Halli was talking about?’ Arna wasn’t going to let her father get away without answering.

‘I’m sure it was only Halli. He’s tired like I was earlier, so perhaps he can’t remember which cabin he’s in.’ Ægir immediately regretted telling the girls what they wanted to hear rather than what they needed to know. If they were to come through this alive, they would have to be aware of the danger. It wouldn’t do for them to run to Halli when or if they encountered him. If he caught one of them, Ægir would go to pieces and that would be the end of them all.