Arnaldur Indridason - Oblivion

Quickly adjusting to the gloom in the hangar, Marion followed Caroline in the direction of the giant work platform that towered up to the rafters. There was no one else around and the only illumination came from the dim fluorescent lights along the side walls. No work seemed to be in progress at present. Marion made out what looked like two fighter aircraft at the other end of the hangar. There were various aeroplane parts lying on the floor along the walls to the right. A jet engine was suspended from a pulley.

Marion’s eyes travelled up the scaffolding, tall as a block of flats. It consisted of countless steel platforms slotted together, with a ladder in the middle providing access to the top level. The plumbers’ paraphernalia had been removed as their job here was finished. Marion calculated that if Kristvin had fallen from the scaffolding there would be evidence on the floor below, but the concrete was so filthy and stained with oil and years’ of other accumulated grime that without proper forensic analysis it would be impossible to determine if any of it was Kristvin’s blood. There was certainly no way of telling in the present circumstances.

All was quiet in the hangar. Caroline stood stock-still, listening and peering around in the semi-darkness, alert as a wild animal. Only when she was absolutely sure they were alone did she gesture to Marion to follow her up the ladder. She felt her way slowly, rung by rung.

‘Hope you don’t get vertigo,’ whispered Marion.

‘I’ve always been shit-scared of heights — flying too — but right now I’m just shit-scared,’ Caroline whispered back.

She reached the top surprisingly quickly, nevertheless, with Marion close behind. They stood on the platform, their legs trembling and jelly-like with the effort. It gave a good view of the hangar.

‘Isn’t the place guarded?’ asked Marion in a low voice.

‘I’d have thought so.’

‘Haven’t you ever been in here before?’

‘No, never had any reason to. I had no idea how vast it was.’

‘It’s mind-boggling.’

Marion surveyed the platform. It was fenced in on all sides by a handrail a metre or so high. The new fire-extinguisher system was right in front of them. From the pipes, which ran along the steel girders, gold-coloured sprinklers hung like colossal Christmas decorations. There were two smaller wheeled platforms that reached right up under the roof. Marion assumed the plumbers must have stood on these while fixing the water pipes to the girders.

‘Do you think they store bombs in here?’ asked Marion.

‘I wouldn’t know where,’ said Caroline, surveying the largely empty space. ‘Maybe they keep them in different hangars, or underground.’

‘Shouldn’t they be stored within easy reach for loading? Isn’t speed the main object?’

‘Sure. Maybe Kristvin saw them in here and they’ve been moved since then. They might not even be in the country any longer.’

‘True.’

‘Could Kristvin have fallen off here?’ asked Caroline, peeping gingerly over the edge. ‘It’s a hell of a drop. It’s making me giddy.’

‘He’d have died instantly,’ said Marion. ‘That’s clear. No one could survive a drop like that, straight down onto a concrete floor. It would go a long way to explaining his injuries. We’ve been working on the assumption all along that they were the result of a major fall.’

‘What can he have been doing all the way up here?’ whispered Caroline. ‘It’s only been used for installing the fire extinguishers and I’m guessing that all the people who worked up here were Icelandics. Surely it’s just as likely that it was a quarrel between locals that went badly wrong?’

‘But the men working up here claim they didn’t know Kristvin,’ said Marion, ‘though naturally there’s a chance they were lying. But we couldn’t find any obvious links. No, I’m thinking he may have fled up here. To hide.’

‘This is the last place I’d hide,’ said Caroline, snatching another nervous glance over the rail.

‘I don’t suppose he had much choice. If he was trying to escape.’

‘Maybe someone thought this would be a good place to meet,’ said Caroline, ‘especially if he was planning to push Kristvin off.’

‘I’m guessing it would’ve been from this side then,’ said Marion, walking to the edge of the platform where there was a narrow gap, no more than a couple of metres wide, separating it from the northern wall of the hangar. It was also furthest from the lights. Marion peered down at the floor.

Caroline was far from happy up here and the feeling only intensified as the minutes passed. She had not been lying when she said she hated heights and it was obvious she could hardly bring herself to look down. She ran a hand along the rail.

‘It would be no problem to push a man over this. It wouldn’t even require a struggle. Just a good shove.’

‘The pathologist said he’d almost certainly received a blow to the head before he fell,’ said Marion.

‘OK,’ said Caroline. ‘So it goes something like this: Kristvin’s poking around in the hangar, maybe searching for missiles from Thule. Or he’s come to meet a man who’s promised him information, maybe even to show them to him. If he had any other reason for being in here, we don’t know what it was. Then either something happens that forces Kristvin to seek refuge up here, or they meet up here to talk. I’d never agree to that but then I’m not Kristvin. They quarrel. Kristvin’s hit on the head and falls off the platform.’

‘Who’s up here with him?’

‘Wilbur Cain?’

‘So it all comes down to the presence of nuclear weapons from Thule?’

‘Looks like it,’ said Caroline.

‘We’d better get out of here,’ said Marion, testing the rail in several places to check if it was loose. ‘There’s nothing to see up here. I’ll try and take some samples from the floor over by the wall, then we’d better beat it.’

‘Jesus, I’ll be glad to get down from here,’ said Caroline.

‘Getting to you, is it?’ said Marion, bending over the rail.

‘I can’t stand it. In my worst nightmares I’m falling off a cliff and there’s no one to save me.’

‘You should find yourself a man,’ said Marion, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

‘Yeah, right,’ said Caroline.

She inched her way down the ladder with Marion just behind. Before long, weak with relief, she had her feet planted on terra firma again. Marion went round the corner of the scaffolding tower to the north wall and craned upwards, still marvelling at the height of the roof. Then Caroline called in a low voice and Marion saw she was pointing at some stains spattered up the foot of the wall. Moving closer, Marion crouched down, discerned four dark spots and tested one with a finger.

‘Is it paint?’ asked Caroline.

‘Not sure.’

‘You should take a sample.’

‘It may have nothing to do with Kristvin,’ said Marion. ‘We’re probably too late to collect any evidence in here.’

Nevertheless, Marion scraped at the marks with a knife and wrapped the scrapings in a handkerchief. Then straightened up again, gauged the position of the stains in relation to the scaffolding, and walked over to examine the floor for any signs of the blood that might have splashed from there onto the wall. But it was impossible to tell if any of the accumulated grime was blood.

‘We should get out of here,’ muttered Caroline.

‘Martinez made a comment about Joan and her husband, Earl, when we were talking in the bar,’ said Marion distractedly. ‘I forgot to mention it. By the way, I think you’ve got a better friend in Martinez than you realise.’

‘What are you implying?’

‘Haven’t you... hasn’t it struck you?’