Arnaldur Indridason - Oblivion

‘Why not?’ asked Marion.

‘I’m against the army,’ said Vernhardur. ‘All that black-market shit associated with it. I’m totally against all that. I hate the fact that every time I go to work I have to pass through a bloody military checkpoint. Hate it.’

‘If your friend was scoring drugs for himself and his sister,’ said Marion, ‘why are you so surprised he got into trouble? It’s hardly like popping down to the shop for a can of Coke.’

‘Well, of course you never know what sort you’ll run up against in that scene,’ said Vernhardur, ‘what kind of scumbags they have in the army. He said it wasn’t risky. The quantities were so small it was no big deal.’

‘How did you find out? Did he tell you?’

Vernhardur nodded again. ‘You mustn’t think I was involved — I wasn’t. No way. You may think that but I assure you I wasn’t. Just to be clear.’

It was the day Kristvin told Vernhardur about his sister’s illness. They used to take turns driving to and from work in Keflavík. One day when Kristvin was in the grey Corolla and they were about to head home, he said he needed to run a quick errand and asked Vernhardur to wait for him by the PX — he would only be ten minutes. Vernhardur protested but Kristvin was insistent and set him down by the store. Vernhardur had never set foot in the PX and had no wish to go inside now. Besides, he knew Icelanders needed a sponsor — a member of the Defense Force to sign them in — if they wanted to use any of the facilities or visit the clubs on the base. Vernhardur had never got to know any of the Americans and wasn’t interested in doing so. He hung about outside the PX for almost half an hour, feeling like a bum, and was fuming by the time Kristvin came to pick him up. As they drove down to the gate, Vernhardur gave him an earful and Kristvin apologised profusely and promised to explain. Vernhardur thought Kristvin seemed jittery for some reason. As a rule the guards on the gate were fairly lax and the Icelanders who worked on the base and passed this way regularly were waved through. But occasionally there was an unexpected crackdown, as seemed to be the case now.

It was the end of the working day, a queue had formed at the gate and they noticed that a car had been called out for closer inspection. There were three vehicles ahead of them and the first was also signalled to pull over. The next car was waved through, as was the one in front of them. A US serviceman and an Icelandic police officer were manning the gate while another pair searched the cars. Kristvin drove slowly through the barrier, then was given a sign to stop. ‘Shit! They’re never going to search me?’ Vernhardur heard him mutter in a panic. The policeman scrutinised them both through the windscreen, then waved them on. Kristvin heaved a sigh of relief. When they looked back they saw the car behind them being pulled over.

It was blatantly obvious that Kristvin was smuggling something off base — presumably whatever it was that he had fetched while he made his workmate wait for him outside the PX. Vernhardur demanded to know what he was carrying and Kristvin was evasive, insisting he had only fetched a couple of cigarette cartons from the vending machines in the barracks. Vernhardur didn’t believe this for a minute — Kristvin wouldn’t have been that stressed out about something so trivial — and said he had a right to know. Kristvin had put him at risk without warning him. He had narrowly escaped being arrested for Kristvin’s crime and might even have had to do time in prison as a result. It was unbelievably irresponsible and Vernhardur was furious that Kristvin would be so selfish and such a total fucking dickhead as to mix him up in that sort of crap. In the end, Kristvin pulled over in the Hvassahraun lava field and switched off the engine. He explained to Vernhardur that his sister had cancer and that he was supplying her with marijuana to make her life more bearable. He refused to reveal his source but admitted that the drugs were concealed in the passenger door on Vernhardur’s side. He had tampered with the panel on the door so it was easy to prise off, and there was a compartment inside. It couldn’t be simpler. ‘I’m really sorry, mate,’ said Kristvin. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking of. I didn’t stop to consider that you were with me. It just didn’t cross my mind. Honest!’

‘The poor guy, he was mortified,’ Vernhardur said. ‘Kristvin wasn’t the type to get involved in big-league stuff, quite frankly, but he was prepared to do it for his sister.’

‘Were there other times, do you know?’ said Marion.

‘Not that I’m aware of. After that we drove to work in our own cars. Separately. We never referred to the incident again.’

‘But he carried on?’

‘I wouldn’t know.’

‘You must have gone ballistic,’ said Erlendur.

‘I did. He had no right to risk my neck like that. I told him he was crazy — the door was the first place they’d look.’

‘So you had no part in it?’ said Marion.

‘No way,’ said Vernhardur.

‘And you don’t know if he scored any more drugs, or how he financed them, or who he supplied, other than his sister?’

‘No.’

‘And we’re just supposed to believe you.’

‘I knew you’d try and implicate me, I said so at the beginning, didn’t I? I’m not lying. I’m telling you exactly how it was. I didn’t have to mention it but I did. I thought the information might help you.’

He looked at them both, his face grave. ‘The marijuana wasn’t only for Nanna. Kristvin had picked up the habit long before. But I don’t believe he was dealing or making any money out of it. He wasn’t the type. He was only buying for himself and his sister.’

‘Did he pay for it in dollars?’ asked Erlendur.

‘I didn’t ask. But he must have done if he bought it on the base.’

‘Were you working with him in Hangar 885?’ asked Erlendur.

‘No, I haven’t been there in a while.’

‘But you know it, of course?’

‘Sure.’

‘Are you familiar with an airline whose planes are serviced there — American, called Northern Cargo Transport?’

‘Yes, I’ve... I know we serviced a Hercules for them recently. Faulty landing gear. In fact Kristvin was working on that in the big hangar — Hangar 885.’

‘He didn’t happen to mention anything about it, did he?’ asked Marion.

‘No. What... like what?’

‘I don’t know, anything. Like, for example, what cargo it was carrying, or what he’d seen in the hold?’

‘No, he didn’t. Did something happen there? In the hangar?’

‘Not as far as we know,’ said Marion.

‘There was another thing Kristvin told me while we were parked up in Hvassahraun,’ added Vernhardur hesitantly.

‘Oh?’

‘I don’t know if it has any bearing.’

‘What was it?’

‘He was rattled after the near miss at the gate and the bollocking I’d given him. And he’d just told me about his sister’s illness. He seemed at the end of his tether and let something slip that you should maybe know about.’

‘What was it?’ asked Marion again.

‘He didn’t say it in as many words but he implied that he was seeing a woman and that she lived on the base.’

‘Really?’

‘And she wasn’t Icelandic either.’

‘An American?’

Vernhardur nodded.

‘What were his exact words?’ asked Erlendur. ‘Can you remember?’

‘He didn’t come right out with it. I just read between the lines. He was very embarrassed and only hinted at it, like I said, but I twigged at once. He’d got into some kind of relationship with a woman on the base. We didn’t discuss it again and I didn’t ask any questions. Besides, we saw a lot less of each other after the smuggling incident. But from what Kristvin said, he was going to have to break it off and I assume he did.’