Майкл Ридпат - The Wanderer

After Gudrid returned from Vinland she had stayed with her father-in-law Erik the Red at Brattahlíd — Gudrid had been married to Erik’s son Thorstein before Thorfinn Karlsefni. The site had been excavated in the 1930s, and Nancy knew that the trenches they had dug then were still open.

The difficulty with planting new archaeological material was placing it in the correct ‘context’, the layer of soil that represented the appropriate era. Finds from Gudrid’s time would be in the deepest layer. It would be tricky to insert the wampum shells that deep without disturbing the contexts above, and impossible to ensure that the shells were all placed in the correct context. But during the 1930s excavation, the contexts would have become jumbled up.

So one evening, when there was no one else around, they were able to insert the wampum shells laterally in the side of the trench, so that anyone finding them would think they had been disturbed but not discovered by a previous generation of archaeologists.

Then they waited. And waited. They had assumed that the letter and the wampum would be found within a few months. But the proposed excavation of Brattahlíd scheduled for the following year was cancelled, and the volume in which Emilio had placed the letter was just not taken out of the Vatican Library.

A week after Nancy and John received a letter from Emilio announcing he was intending to move the letter to another book next time he was in Rome, they got some bad news. Emilio had had a heart attack at his home in Tuscany. He was dead.

Six months later, John had a stroke, which crippled him. A year after that another stroke killed him.

By that stage, Nancy regretted the whole thing. Once Emilio and John were gone, the hoax had no point. Nancy just forgot it.

And then in 2011 she read about the discovery of the Nantucket wampum in the paper. She had told herself that if anything was discovered, she would announce to the world that it was a fake. But by that stage she was already over eighty. She told herself she didn’t have the energy, but truthfully, she didn’t have the courage. She might have written a letter to the archaeologists who discovered the wampum if the consequences had just stayed in Greenland and one or two universities. But the find had caused great excitement in Nantucket among the Historical Association, and if Nancy had admitted John and she had planted it, it would have ruined their reputations. John’s reputation in particular; she cared about John’s reputation.

When an Icelandic archaeologist and his Italian assistant had tracked her down the year before as a local historian and an expert on Gudrid, she decided to go along with their questions and pretend that the wampum and the letter were real. She missed John, and she missed Emilio. The hoax was their legacy, and she thought she might as well enjoy it for them. By that stage she was in her mid eighties. What the hell, she thought, she was going to die soon anyway.

Then the archaeologist had returned with a film crew in tow and she had agreed to be interviewed. She could almost see Emilio’s broad grin as she answered the Icelandic woman’s questions at Sesachacha Pond, hear John’s familiar chuckle.

But then, after the crew had packed up and left the island for Canada and Leif’s Booths, the guilt had set in. Although she had thought the archaeologist arrogant, she had liked Eygló; the hoax, when it was discovered, and it surely would be discovered, would ruin her career. Who knew how many historians would be sent off on wild goose chases?

So Nancy had decided to travel to Iceland to tell them the truth.

Over Vigdís’s objections, Magnus allowed the filming to go ahead on Snaefellsnes, but over Suzy’s objections he refused to allow the crew to leave for Greenland without permission from the police. He had persuaded Einar to give up his computer and phone and he and Vigdís had driven back to Reykjavík with them for analysis.

As they were entering police headquarters, Árni called.

‘What have you got?’

‘Nothing from the phone companies yet,’ said Árni. ‘But I had an idea.’

Magnus’s heart sank a few inches. That was not normally a good sign.

‘I checked with the Hótel Tindastóll. They have free Wi-Fi, but you have to log in every time you use it, and their system monitors usage by room and records every time a guest signs in.’

‘Really? Did you check Eygló?’

‘I did. She logged into the system at eight-oh-two and again at ten-oh-eight. And then once again at eleven-forty-one.’

‘So that pretty much means she must have been in her room when she says she was?’

‘She didn’t have time to drive to Glaumbaer, kill Carlotta and return.’

‘What about Einar?’

‘Einar logged on at seven-fifty-nine and then again at eleven-twelve.’

‘When he came back from the church square. That’s consistent with his story too. And the others?’

‘Suzy, Tom and Ajay all logged on around eight, right after they had checked in. But none of them were on Wi-Fi afterwards.’

‘OK, Árni. Good work. Any news on Ajay from Britain?’

‘That’s going to take a while,’ Ajay said.

There was something in Ajay’s voice that Magnus recognized of old. It was the sound of Árni screwing up.

‘Árni?’

Árni sighed. ‘The British cop promised he would look, but he did point out that Ajay was a Hindu name, if that was any help.’

‘So he’s unlikely to be a jihadi hitman, then?’

‘I suppose not,’ said Ajay. ‘But there is no reason why there shouldn’t be a Hindu hitman, is there?’

Magnus decided to put Árni out of his misery, something he should have done earlier. ‘Call the guy back and tell him we are withdrawing the inquiry. There is no point in wasting his time. It’s just about possible that Carlotta was murdered by a paid killer, but Ajay does not fit that profile and frankly neither does the method. Professional killers don’t rely on finding pickaxes lying about.’

‘Yes. Sorry.’ Árni sounded chastened.

‘Good work on the hotel Wi-Fi, though, Árni.’

Magnus had reached his desk as he hung up. ‘Did you get that?’ he said to Vigdís who had been listening to his half of the conversation.

‘I think so. Eygló was logged on to the hotel’s Wi-Fi when Carlotta was killed.’

‘Looks like it.’

Vigdís made no attempt to hide her disappointment.

There was a note prominently displayed on Magnus’s desk telling him to report to Thelma as soon as he arrived. He grabbed a cup of coffee and headed for her office. She was deep in conversation with Snorri, the National Police Commissioner. The conversation stopped abruptly as Magnus appeared.

‘I’ll come back,’ Magnus said.

The Commissioner got up from his chair and gave Magnus a friendly grin. ‘No, no, I was just leaving. Go ahead, Magnús.’

Magnus couldn’t help wondering what they had been discussing. He hoped it had nothing to do with him.

‘Any progress?’ Thelma asked when the senior officer had left the room.

‘Some,’ said Magnus. ‘We’ve established that Einar Thorsteinsson and Carlotta Mondini carried on a relationship several years ago. And she was unofficially helping him research the television documentary they were filming at Glaumbaer.’

‘Is there a connection between the documentary and her death?’

‘Not sure yet. There are still some leads to chase up.’

‘Is Einar a suspect?’

‘He has a strong alibi for when Carlotta was killed. But he keeps on hiding things from us. I’m not convinced that he is telling us the whole truth.’

‘What about Eygló, the presenter?’

‘She has been lying to us too, probably covering for him. But she also has an alibi for the time of death: she was logged on to the hotel Wi-Fi.’