Michael Ridpath - 66 Degrees North

‘No,’ said Harpa. ‘Why should they?’

‘Why should they? Well, they were talking about it, weren’t they? I mean, weren’t we? About what we would like to do to the bankers. To Julian Lister.’

‘That was just talk,’ said Harpa.

‘But it wasn’t, was it? I mean what we did to your boyfriend. I mean we…’ Frikki’s voice was wavering.

‘You mean I ,’ said Harpa.

‘No. No, Harpa. We. I’ve thought about it a lot. We don’t know which of the two of us actually killed him, do we? Maybe it was you, maybe it was me. I kicked him in the head, after all.’

Harpa’s eyes widened. She had held herself solely responsible for Gabríel Örn’s death. She felt a surge of sympathy for the kid sitting opposite her. She knew what it was like to feel that guilty.

‘Well, I don’t know about the others, but I know Björn didn’t kill them,’ Harpa said. ‘I’ve got to know him very well. He’s a good man.’

‘But what about Sindri? You remember what he was saying. About how the Icelandic people aren’t violent enough. About how they should take physical action.’

‘He was just talking big,’ said Harpa. ‘He was half-drunk. We all were. In fact you were talking loudest of the lot.’

‘I know,’ said Frikki.

‘And anyway, those people were shot abroad, weren’t they? England, France.’

‘It wouldn’t take long to fly there and back,’ Magda said. ‘A fisherman could do it when he said he was out at sea. Go to Keflavík. London or Paris. No problem.’

‘That’s absurd. I know Björn didn’t do that.’

Magda shrugged. There was silence for a moment.

Frikki flinched as he received another kick under the table. Harpa glanced at the Polish girl. She had an open, honest face. Harpa didn’t trust her.

Frikki spoke. ‘The thing is, Harpa. I’m thinking about going to the police.’

‘What! Why would you do that?’

‘Well. Anonymously perhaps. But if all these people are being killed, then who’s to say it will stop now?’

‘No one. But it’s got nothing to do with us.’

‘It has. Believe me, I feel guilty already. If I don’t do something to stop them…’

‘You’re making a massive assumption here,’ Harpa said. ‘It would be one thing if we knew that Sindri or one of the others had killed these people, but we don’t. All we know is that you and I killed someone. And I feel quite strongly we should keep quiet about that.’

Frikki took a deep breath. ‘I wanted to warn you first.’

Harpa turned to the Polish woman.

‘Magda, is it?’

Magda nodded.

‘Listen. I know you think you are Frikki’s conscience, but this isn’t up to you. He’s a good kid. He doesn’t deserve to go to prison for years, which he will do. Maybe I do deserve to be locked up, but I have a three-year-old son. And the others helped us, me and Frikki, cover everything up. Björn in particular helped us. He shouldn’t go to jail.’

‘But we have a duty to stop any more people being murdered,’ Magda said.

‘We don’t know why these people were murdered! We don’t know there is a connection. Óskar and Lister weren’t even in Iceland. We just keep quiet, Frikki, do you understand me?’ Harpa was surprised by the authority she heard in her own voice. ‘And we don’t become friends. We keep well clear of each other. Otherwise we both wind up in jail and achieve nothing. Do you agree? Frikki, do you agree?’

Frikki glanced at Magda who was frowning. Harpa could see how torn she was, between doing what she thought was the right thing, and sending the boy she loved to jail. But it wasn’t up to her. It was up to Harpa and Frikki.

‘Frikki, you’ll never forget what happened,’ Harpa said. ‘But you are still young. You’re not a murderer, you didn’t mean to kill Gabríel Örn. You can still turn your life around. Focus on that.’

Frikki glanced at Magda. She closed her eyes and nodded. ‘OK,’ Frikki said. ‘OK.’

The moment Magnus saw Sindri he remembered where he recognized him from.

Oh, shit.

He wished he had brought Árni along, rather than Vigdís. This could get embarrassing, and Árni was an easier person to be embarrassed in front of.

But Sindri didn’t recognize him. He was full of indignation at being harassed by police in his own home. Magnus could tell that Sindri wasn’t surprised by the visit. On the other hand Sindri was probably used to unannounced visits by the police.

The flat was a dump, and smelled faintly of marijuana, stale tobacco and rotten food. Sindri reluctantly led them into the living room. There was a pile of dirty plates by the sink in the kitchen alcove. A computer in one corner was surrounded by paper on the desk and on the floor. Sindri was obviously working on something which involved a lot of pages.

Sindri sat down at the dining table and folded his arms. ‘All right, what do you want?’ he said. His deep voice was defiant, but there was something friendly about his puffy eyes that he couldn’t quite hide.

Magnus glanced up at the big painting on the wall by the table. ‘Did you do that?’ he asked.

‘I did.’

‘Is it Bjartur of Summerhouses?’

‘Amazing. A cop who reads.’

‘ Independent People is a good book.’

‘It’s a great book. Everyone in Iceland should be forced to read it now. In fact they should have read it five years ago. If there were more Bjarturs around and fewer Ólafur Tómassons, this country would be one of the great survivors of the credit crunch.’

‘There’s something in that,’ said Magnus.

Sindri grunted. He obviously didn’t like policemen agreeing with him.

‘We want to ask you about the protests over the winter,’ Magnus said.

‘Oh, yes? It’s a bit late to round up the usual suspects, isn’t it? But there will be more of them, you know,’ Sindri said. ‘The people won’t put up with this Icesave agreement. Why should our grandchildren and great-grandchildren have to repay debts that were incurred by a bunch of crooks we had no knowledge of?’

‘Why indeed?’ said Magnus.

Sindri was off. ‘The government are just bending over backwards for the British and the Dutch. What is all this crap? “The Icelandic nation will always stand by its obligations.” Why the fuck should we? That’s what I want to know. We should tell the British to get their money off the bankers themselves and leave the rest of us out of it.’

Sindri nodded, encouraging himself. ‘I knew this would happen. We have a socialist government now, but what’s the point? They are just like the last lot, but weaker. They haven’t actually done anything. It’s nearly a year since the banks went bust and they still haven’t brought a banker to justice. Not one single one. Yet you guys raided the squat around the corner and threw ordinary people out on to the streets.’

Magnus had heard of the raid, although it took place just before he arrived in Iceland. Drug-dealers, he had heard, and some of them dangerous at that. But he didn’t defend his colleagues.

‘I get it,’ said Sindri. ‘You’re trying to take me out before the new protests start.’

‘Actually, no,’ said Magnus. ‘We want to ask you about one protest in particular. Tuesday the twentieth of January. The day Parliament came back from its recess.’

‘Oh, I remember that one. Or at least the beginning of it. I missed some of the fun later on that night. Left too early. I went out the next day, the Wednesday, though.’

‘Do you know Harpa Einarsdóttir and Björn Helgason?’ Vigdís asked.

‘No.’

‘You were seen with both of them at the demonstration that day. They stuck with you most of the afternoon.’