Майкл Ридпат - The Wanderer

‘No they won’t,’ said Eygló.

Magnus ignored her.

They passed by a small pond. The pass reminded Magnus a little of the road from one side of Snaefellsnes to the other, just by the family farm at Bjarnarhöfn. Except Greenland was the land of icebergs, not lava.

‘Anya knows Einar didn’t do it,’ Eygló said.

‘Anya knows nothing about the case.’

‘Anya is a smart woman. She said that it must have something to do with what Carlotta had discovered.’

‘That was just her opinion.’

‘And you didn’t even tell her about Nancy Fishburn’s murder. That must be linked to the hoax somehow.’

Magnus didn’t respond.

‘You’re not comfortable about this, are you, Magnús? You know something’s not right.’

Magnus had had enough. He stopped and turned to face Eygló. But she was grinning at him.

She was right, damn it! Magnus wasn’t happy about it. And he didn’t know why.

They stood facing each other. ‘OK, look,’ Eygló said. ‘It’s going to be at least an hour until we get back to Brattahlíd. Just do me a favour. Assume that Rósa’s death had something to do with the hoax and whatever Carlotta had discovered about it. Think it through.’

Magnus’s initial reaction was not to do Eygló a favour. But he knew that what really irritated him about Eygló’s comments was that some part of him shared her doubts, and he wasn’t prepared to admit that either to her or to himself.

Those doubts wouldn’t go away until he dealt with them.

‘All right,’ said Magnus. ‘Let’s walk.’

‘So. What do you think Carlotta had discovered that made her want to contact Anya? It was something she wanted to tell Einar that was worth flying all the way to Iceland for. Something about the letter.’

‘OK, let’s say she suspected it was a fake,’ said Magnus. ‘Why would she do that?’

Eygló trudged on. ‘She found another expert? Someone who disagreed with Professor Beccari?’

‘Who might that be?’

‘Another Italian academic?’

‘Or someone at the Vatican,’ Magnus said. ‘Maybe they had a better reason than she originally thought to doubt the letter.’

‘You could ask them,’ Eygló said.

‘We could,’ said Magnus. ‘But let’s say that an expert at the Vatican did have proof that the letter was a fake. I’m really not sure why that would mean she was killed. The proof would come out from this expert anyway, whether Carlotta was alive or dead; nobody gains.’

They walked on. Magnus’s brain was working. To some extent, Eygló was correct. Although he had considered Carlotta and the wampum, he hadn’t thought much about her involvement with the Columbus letter. All those years ago, a rare-book dealer had forged it and inserted it into the Vatican Secret Archives.

‘You know Anya said just now that Carlotta had figured out who had forged it? What exactly did she say, can you remember?’

‘Oh, let me think,’ said Eygló. ‘She said that Carlotta “suspected who had forged it, whatever ‘it’ was, and who had planted it”. I think those were her words.’

‘So do I,’ said Magnus. ‘ We know who forged it: Nancy Fishburn’s rare-book dealer friend. I think his name was Emilio. But from what Anya said, Carlotta was implying someone else planted it in the Vatican Secret Archives.’

‘Did she imply that?’ said Eygló.

‘Yeah, I know,’ said Magnus. ‘It’s vague. I’m trying to remember exactly what Kelly told me about who her grandmother had said had planted it, but I can’t. I suppose I assumed it was Emilio. But maybe it was an accomplice. Let’s assume for a moment that it was someone else, how could Carlotta have discovered who?’

They pondered that. ‘I have no idea,’ said Eygló after a minute.

‘What about you?’

‘I’m thinking.’

‘I’ll shut up, then.’

Kelly had said that the book had scarcely been taken out since the hoax was hatched. Maybe the Vatican Secret Archives kept records of who had taken the book out and when. It seemed like the kind of thing an ancient library might do. Or maybe not: lots of people, lots of books, many years. Worth checking, though.

‘You’ve thought of something,’ Eygló said.

‘I have,’ said Magnus.

‘Well?’

Magnus told her.

‘OK. Let’s call them. The Vatican.’

‘When we get back to Narsarsuaq.’

‘No, now.’

‘How would we do that?’

‘Look.’

Although they were still out of sight of Brattahlíd and the fjord, Eygló pointed to a couple of towers on a hilltop two miles away, no doubt providing phone coverage to the village. She pulled out her phone. ‘See?’ she said, showing him the screen. ‘Three bars. And 4G.’

She sat on a rock and worked her phone. ‘The Vatican Secret Archives, right?’

In less than a minute, she tapped a key triumphantly and put the phone to her ear. ‘Yes, good afternoon,’ Eygló said in English. ‘I have Inspector Magnús Ragnarsson of the Reykjavík police here. He is investigating a murder, and he would like to speak to the head librarian.’

She nodded and then looked up at Magnus. ‘There you go.’

So Magnus sat on a rock in the wilderness of Greenland and spoke to the keeper of one of the world’s most exclusive libraries in Rome.

Magnus repeated Eygló’s introduction. ‘I am investigating the murder of Carlotta Mondini in Iceland on August twenty-first She was an Italian postgraduate student.’

‘Oh, yes, I remember her.’ The head librarian had a soft Italian accent, but his English was clear and precise. ‘She has been murdered? I am very sorry to hear that.’

Magnus’s heart beat faster. Eygló had placed herself next to him on the rock and could hear what the librarian was saying. She gave Magnus the thumbs up.

‘You say you remember her? Have you seen her recently?’

‘Short hair with blonde stripes? A postgraduate? From Padua, I think?’

‘That’s right,’ said Magnus.

‘Yes, then I certainly remember her. She came into the library last year. She was asking about a volume of memoirs written by a Genoese sea captain in the seventeenth century. Another student, a friend of hers, had found a letter crammed in the back pages of the book. It purported to be from Christopher Columbus to his brother. My colleagues analysed it: a fake of course, and we told him that. My impression was that this Carlotta Mondini believed that the letter was real. Absurd.’

‘So she asked to look at the book herself?’

‘No. She just wanted to know who had ordered the book up from the stacks in the past.’

‘And were you able to provide her with that information?’

‘With difficulty,’ said the librarian. ‘But we keep comprehensive records here.’

‘I don’t suppose you wrote the names down somewhere?’ said Magnus. ‘Or perhaps you could check your records again for me.’

‘There were three names,’ said the librarian. ‘Two of them I would have to look up, but one of them I remember. It is a famous one, at least in our country. Probably all over the world. In fact, he came back to look at the letter earlier this year. He seems to think it is genuine too.’

‘And what name is that?’ said Magnus. Although now he knew the answer.

‘Beccari. Marco Beccari.’

‘See?’ said Eygló.

‘Professor Beccari,’ said Magnus.

‘Carlotta discovered he inserted the fake letter.’

‘It could be a coincidence.’

‘Oh, come on!’ said Eygló. ‘How likely is that?’

‘Very unlikely. But I can find out.’ Magnus checked his notebook for Kelly Fishburn’s cell number. He dialled it.