Arnaldur Indridason - Oblivion

‘I wonder if we could order his arrest in connection with the investigation into Kristvin’s death.’

‘On what grounds?’ asked Caroline. ‘You have nothing on him. All you have are vague suspicions. You’d need direct proof. The fact he may’ve been seen at a bar with Kristvin isn’t enough. We don’t even know if it was him.’

‘Perhaps we could get permission to interview him.’

‘You can put in a request,’ said Caroline, ‘but I’m guessing it’ll be held up in the system and ultimately refused. On the grounds, of course, that the army has no record of any such person. You can be pretty confident that Wilbur Cain’s an alias.’

‘Where can we find evidence then?’ asked Marion.

‘In the hangar, maybe.’

‘So shouldn’t we head over there?’

‘Right now?’

‘Why not?’

Caroline sat up. ‘Isn’t that a bit...?’

‘Do we have any alternative?’ asked Marion.

‘Well...’

‘Not the way I see it.’

‘Let’s do it then,’ said Caroline after a brief pause. ‘Better get it over with before I’m arrested, dragged before a court martial and shot.’

Marion started the car, backed out of the parking space and drove over to military police headquarters, stopping a little way off. Caroline scanned the surroundings, checking out the traffic, any nearby cars and pedestrians. It was ten minutes before she summoned up the courage to dash over to the station and in through the door. Quarter of an hour later she emerged again, in uniform. She walked over to a row of squad cars, climbed into one and drove over to where Marion was waiting. She stopped and Marion got in beside her.

‘How did it go?’ asked Marion.

‘Like a dream,’ said Caroline, permitting herself a smile. ‘I hear you were in earlier asking for me.’

She set off in the direction of Hangar 885. There were few cars on the roads and in no time she was approaching the gate by the hangar. Caroline slowed to a standstill.

‘I know him!’ she said with a sigh of relief, as a soldier came over. There were three guards on the gate. The other two remained at their post. ‘Don’t say a word,’ she warned.

She wound down the window.

‘Hi, Spence, how’re you doing?’ she said with a broad grin.

Spence, who was black like her, grinned in return. He shot a glance at the passenger seat where Marion had grabbed an instruction manual from the glove compartment and was poring over it, pretending not to pay any attention to what was happening.

‘You on duty all night, poor soul?’ asked Caroline.

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Spence. ‘Do you need access to the hangar?’

‘Aerospace engineer,’ she said, nodding at her passenger. ‘So I won’t be seeing you at the Zoo later?’

‘Maybe tomorrow,’ said Spence and waved her through.

‘See ya,’ called Caroline and drove through the gate towards the hangar.

‘Spence?’ said Marion once they were through.

‘Yeah, don’t ask,’ said Caroline.

She drove round the northern side of the vast building and parked out of sight of the guards. The hangar was situated on the edge of the airport; floodlights mounted on the roof illuminated the entire area. Further to the north, beyond the moors, they could see Keflavík and the lights of other settlements on the Reykjanes Peninsula. And there, far off in the distance, was Reykjavík. The glow from the city lit up the sky, revealing just how far the capital now sprawled to the east.

‘Coming?’ called Caroline in a low voice as Marion stood motionless, arrested by the view.

‘Pretty, isn’t it?’

‘We’re not here to admire the scenery,’ snapped Caroline, visibly on edge. She was clearly having second thoughts. ‘I don’t know how you talked me into this,’ she grumbled. ‘I’m such a damn fool. Always the same damn fool.’

She ushered Marion to a door at the northern end of the building, which turned out to be locked. Caroline kept walking, rounded the western corner, then marched briskly alongside the hangar with Marion on her heels. Massive doors extended the length of this side, set into which were smaller doors for staff. Coming to one of these smaller entrances, Caroline tried the handle. It was locked as well. She was about to keep going when she heard a noise inside and shoved Marion back into a shallow recess formed where the full-size doors overlapped one another. Two soldiers emerged and marched off towards the other end of the building. The door swung to behind them but before it could click shut Caroline ran over and caught it. She peered inside to make sure no other personnel were near, then beckoned to Marion to follow.

Erlendur watched Mensalder attending to the lorry. He exchanged a few words with the driver, flicking the occasional surreptitious glance in Erlendur’s direction. The young man on the till had nipped out to the gents. When he came back, Erlendur asked if Mensalder had been working there long.

‘Mensi?’ said the young man. ‘About five years, I suppose. What... Do you know him?’

‘No,’ said Erlendur. ‘Not really. Is he known as Mensi?’

‘He’s all right,’ said the young man and picked up the phone that was ringing behind the counter. Erlendur went outside and crossed the forecourt towards Mensalder. On the way he passed the lorry driver who was heading for the shop.

‘Bloody cold,’ commented the driver and hurried into the warmth.

‘I haven’t been quite straight with you,’ said Erlendur when he was within speaking distance of Mensalder. ‘I’m trying to find out what happened to the girl I mentioned. Dagbjört. She went missing. I’m a detective, and I’m re-examining the case, talking to people, trying to come up with some answers. Your cousin Rósanna thinks you might have met Dagbjört. Talked to her. I wanted to know if you ever did. That’s all.’

Mensalder was stooping over the fuel tank that was mounted on the side of the lorry. He held the nozzle in the tank, wiped the drip off his nose with the back of his hand and avoided looking at Erlendur. Acted as if he wasn’t there. Erlendur thought perhaps the noise of the diesel pump had drowned out his words and stepped closer.

‘Did you by any chance talk to Dagbjört shortly before she vanished?’ he asked, raising his voice.

The man still didn’t answer and kept his eyes averted.

‘Mensalder? You’re going to have to talk to me. You can’t dodge the issue forever.’

‘I have nothing to say to you,’ he heard Mensalder mutter. ‘You come here, pretending... come here and... I have nothing to say to you.’

Erlendur decided to back off for the moment. Before long the tank was full and Mensalder hung the hose up by the pump just as the driver returned. They spoke briefly. The driver, who apparently had an account at the garage, was on his way north and intended to drive all night. He said goodbye and the lorry pulled away amid roars and a cloud of exhaust fumes.

The two of them were left standing there in the cold.

‘What are you frightened of?’ asked Erlendur.

‘Frightened?’ said Mensalder. ‘I’m not frightened.’

‘Did you speak to Dagbjört?’

‘I didn’t do anything to her,’ said Mensalder, hunching his back against the wind.

‘Did you speak to her?’

‘Why are you asking me this? Do you think I harmed the girl? That’s crazy. Completely crazy! I don’t know what Rósanna’s been telling you but if she claims... if she claims... I don’t believe it. Just don’t believe it...’

‘Do you remember when Dagbjört went missing? Do you remember the search for her?’

‘Yes, I do. I knew she was at school with Rósanna.’

‘But you don’t know what happened to her?’