Майкл Ридпат - The Wanderer

‘Of course, I agreed. But then she said if she or Einar ever became serious suspects for Carlotta’s murder, she would have to tell the police she had seen me. And if the hoax did come out she would tell the police too.

‘I wasn’t happy with that, but I didn’t think I had much of a choice.’

Beccari glanced quickly at Magnus and then back at his feet.

‘That night, I couldn’t sleep. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since Glaumbaer. But the more I thought about it, the less I thought I could trust Rósa. She was a smart lawyer; somehow she had gotten herself in a position where she had a hold over me. She seemed like the kind of woman who was always going to use that pressure. And at that point, she didn’t even know that Nancy had died. Once she found that out, she might put two and two together and realize I had killed the old lady as well.

‘All kinds of things could go wrong. I just couldn’t trust her to keep quiet.

‘It was clever of her to wait until I had left Narsarsuaq. With me at a distance, she was safe. If she had told me while we were all together, I could have figured out a way of catching her alone and then dealing with her permanently.

‘You know I told you she and I had a conversation on the boat crossing the fjord back to Narsarsuaq?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, we didn’t talk about her expecting someone to kill her — I just threw that in because Eygló had already told me Einar was a suspect for Rósa’s murder, and I wanted to put him further in the frame with you. What we did talk about was her plan to hike to the Blomsterdalen the following day.

‘She was going to be alone, miles from anywhere. I got out of bed and checked the Blomsterdalen online. It was a remote valley. I looked at the flight schedules and realized I could get a flight from Qaqortoq to Narsarsuaq first thing, and then fly back here in the afternoon. It was risky, but doing nothing was risky.

‘I went to the supermarket as soon as it opened and bought a knife. Then I flew out to Narsarsuaq and hiked to the Blomsterdalen myself to wait for her. And I killed her.’

So Eygló was right: Rósa hadn’t been stupid enough to arrange to meet Beccari alone in the valley. ‘Was that really necessary?’

‘I think so. Besides, she was going to die anyway. I just made it quicker. And once you have killed twice, it’s kind of easier to kill again.’

‘I’ve heard that before.’

Beccari sighed. He looked up at Magnus, tears in his eyes. Magnus had the feeling that Beccari was very sorry — sorry for himself.

‘So what happens now?’ Beccari asked.

‘Inspector Paulsen arrests you. You get tried for murder in two countries; we get to fight with the Greenlanders about who goes first. You spend a long time in jail.’

Beccari nodded.

‘You know, Marco,’ said Magnus. ‘It is a shame that your father never knew what you are really like.’

Anger flashed through the tears. Magnus didn’t care. Beccari deserved to be locked away for a long, long time. Magnus’s only regret was that he would be tried in Greenland or Iceland: he really needed to spend the rest of his life in a US penitentiary.

Magnus stood up, turned away from Beccari towards the airport, and called Paulsen, telling her he had found Beccari by the playground and she should come and arrest him.

He heard the scrabble of falling stones behind him, and saw Beccari slide down the rocks to the road below.

Magnus yelled as Beccari bounded across the road and leaped into the air.

It was only ten or fifteen feet to the sea below. Magnus heard the splash as he followed Beccari down the rocks and over the narrow road.

He could still see the ripples where Beccari had hit the water below him, but no sign of the man himself. Magnus stared at the slow swirl of the sea. Beccari didn’t look like much of a swimmer, but perhaps he had struck out under water. The surface broke as the long neck of a cormorant bobbed up. The bird looked around for a couple of seconds and then dived down.

People usually floated, didn’t they? Could Beccari have got stuck down there somewhere?

Then, slowly, the hump of Beccari’s light brown jacket broke the surface, his pink hooped scarf training behind it. He was face down.

His body was only a few yards from the rocky shore line.

Magnus couldn’t understand why Beccari hadn’t broken the surface face up.

Magnus was a good swimmer. He knew CPR; he knew mouth-to-mouth. If he got to Beccari quickly, he had a good chance of saving him.

But the water was cold, dangerously cold. He had no idea how long a healthy body could survive in water that cold before hypothermia kicked in, but he thought it must be at least ten minutes. Probably half an hour. Paulsen was on her way and there were helicopters and motorboats galore close by.

Was it worth risking his own life for Beccari? Eight years before Magnus had watched as a murderer had drowned in the waters of a powerful waterfall. Even though there was nothing he could reasonably have done to save the man once he had fallen in, he had relived the moment with regret: no, with guilt.

He could save Beccari.

He laid his phone on the rock, took off his coat and his shoes, paused for a moment and jumped.

As he was in mid-air the realization hit Magnus he had no idea how deep the water was. Perhaps Beccari had banged his head on a rock just below the surface. Too late to do anything about that now, except to resolve to bunch his legs as soon as he hit the water to slow his descent.

Impact was like a giant fist smashing against his body, clutching him and squeezing. It wasn’t the resistance, it was the cold: cold like nothing he had ever felt before. All the nerves, all the muscles in his body seemed to convulse. He could feel his mouth attempting to open in an involuntary gasp; somehow he managed to keep it closed. His lungs exploded.

He did pull up his legs but he had no idea where he was, or even which way up. He opened his eyes. The sea was green; white bubbles from his splash surrounded him. His lungs demanded air immediately — holding his breath was not an option. He hadn’t quite managed to keep his mouth completely closed in the moment after impact; some water had trickled in, stimulating a coughing reflex. A surge of panic overwhelmed him, and a compulsion to flap his arms and legs. But which way?

He told himself to stay still, just for a couple of seconds so that he could tell which way was up. The bubbles cleared, slipping off together. Up. Sand, rock and seaweed appeared in one direction, a lighter shade of green and blue in another. He pushed with his arms to change his attitude so that his head was towards the surface and kicked and flapped.

Ordinarily, Magnus could hold his breath under water for a minute or more. Now he only had a few seconds. His chest was exploding. His clothes were dragging him down.

He couldn’t keep his mouth shut any more. It opened just as he broke the surface, he took two lungs full of air and then he was under again. He resisted the insistent messages from his body to flail wildly and took a couple of deliberate strokes upwards.

Once again, his face broke the surface and he kicked and flapped with arms and legs to keep his face above the surface.

The explosion in his lungs was joined by his heart. His heartbeat galloped, the blood roaring in his ears. Despite his face being above water and free to gasp air, his lungs were telling him that he didn’t have enough oxygen. He seemed to be breathing in without having time to breathe out.

Panic was tugging at his heels, pulling him down towards the bottom.

Hyperventilation.

Slow down. Calm down.

He held his breath. Froze his limbs. Let his body sink and his head go underwater just for a couple of seconds before kicking back to the surface.