Arnaldur Indridason - Oblivion

‘May I ask what you were doing in the barracks?’ said the officer.

Caroline bit back her initial impulse to ask what business it was of his. Instead she gave her name and rank. She also explained who Marion and Joan were, and said that the military police were helping Icelandic CID with their inquiry into a death on the base.

‘We had a meeting with a witness, Joan here,’ said Marion, ‘who we fear may be at risk. She knows who was responsible and—’

‘Joan has to file charges for aggravated domestic assault,’ chipped in Caroline. ‘I’m taking her to the hospital. She needs medical attention.’

‘Are you conducting this inquiry with full authorisation from Fleet Air Command, Sergeant?’ asked the officer, his face still expressionless.

‘There hasn’t been time for permission to come through yet,’ said Caroline. ‘May I ask who you are?’

‘Master Sergeant Roberts,’ said the officer. ‘Do you have the required authorisation to interview base personnel?’ he asked them again, glancing at Joan.

‘No, like I said, it hasn’t come through yet, sir,’ said Caroline. ‘What’s your unit, if I may—?’

‘I’m with 57th Fighter Squadron,’ said Roberts, and stepped up to Marion. ‘You’re from the Icelandic police?’

‘Yes.’

‘If I’m correctly informed, your request to conduct an inquiry on the base was refused, so authorisation is not in the pipeline, as your lady friend here seems to think. That’s bullshit. What are you two playing at?’

‘Playing at?’ said Marion.

‘Yes, Detective. What are you playing at?’

‘We tried to get the Defense Force to work with us,’ said Marion. ‘But you people refused all cooperation.’

‘Would you follow me, please?’ said Roberts. ‘I’ll have to ask you to surrender your weapon, Sergeant,’ he added to Caroline, then turned back to Marion. ‘I gather the Icelandic police don’t carry firearms.’

Caroline looked at Marion, who shrugged.

‘What about Joan?’ said Caroline. ‘She needs to see a doctor. She also needs protection from her husband. I can’t leave her.’

‘You have no say in the matter, Sergeant. My men will escort her to the hospital,’ said Roberts, indicating the two airmen accompanying him. ‘They’ll protect her.’

‘Protect her?’

‘Yes. You can rely on us.’

‘I want to go with her, sir,’ insisted Caroline. ‘To see everything’s OK.’

‘You’re coming with me, Sergeant,’ said Roberts. ‘You have no choice. She’ll be fine. She has no reason to be afraid.’

‘Where are you taking us?’ asked Caroline. ‘I don’t see why we need to go anywhere at all with you.’

‘You’re coming with me, Sergeant,’ repeated the officer, holding out his hand for Caroline’s gun.

She hesitated.

‘Your weapon!’ ordered Roberts.

Caroline made eye contact with Marion, who nodded. She took the pistol out of its holster and handed it over. Then she turned to Joan and told her to go with the men to the hospital. Joan protested but Caroline assured her she would be safe. The men escorted Joan to a military jeep parked a stone’s throw from the barracks, and Caroline walked along with her, reassuring her, telling her everything would be all right, nothing would happen to her and they would see each other again very soon.

‘There’s nothing we can do,’ said Caroline. ‘We simply have to trust these men.’

‘What’ll happen to you?’ asked Joan.

‘I’ll be OK,’ said Caroline. ‘I’ll see you later. I promise.’

She watched the jeep drive off down the street.

‘Follow me,’ ordered Roberts, leading the way to another jeep.

‘Where are you taking us, sir?’ asked Caroline as they headed in a westerly direction towards the airport runways.

‘You’ll see,’ replied Roberts.

‘If anything happens to Joan—’

‘Nothing’s going to happen to her. What do you think we are?’

‘How did you know where we were?’

‘It wasn’t hard to track you down. This isn’t a big area.’

‘Were you watching Joan’s apartment?’

Roberts didn’t answer.

‘Why? Because of Earl Jones?’

Still no response.

‘Do you know what happened in the hangar?’

‘You’d better be quiet, Sergeant.’

Caroline lost her temper. ‘Maybe you were with Jones?’

Roberts turned to her. ‘Do you think it was right to go behind the backs of your colleagues and friends in the military? To collaborate with these people’ — he jerked his head at Marion — ‘without reporting the fact? Doesn’t your part in all this seem rather irregular? What is it you want, Sergeant? You can hardly expect to continue your career in the military. In fact, you can forget all about that. And I advise you to keep your mouth shut from now on.’

Seeing that Caroline was poised to fly off the handle, Marion unobtrusively grabbed her hand, silently warning her to let it drop; there was no point quarrelling with this man. Hurt and angry, Caroline kept her eyes on the road ahead.

‘Where are you taking us?’ It was Marion’s turn to ask.

‘Here,’ said Roberts.

In front of them were two hangars currently under construction for the accommodation of F-16 fighters. They consisted of steel-frame skeletons with walls, roof and vast doors attached, but as yet no fittings, insulation or equipment inside. Roberts parked by one of the hangars and Marion and Caroline climbed out. He ordered them to follow him. Two guards were standing there, armed with rifles. Roberts opened a door in the side wall, ushered Marion and Caroline through, then closed the door behind them, remaining outside himself.

Inside it was cold and bare. Two powerful lamps hanging from the ceiling cast a harsh glare into every corner of the empty building. In the middle stood a tall, lean man, aged about fifty, dressed in khaki trousers and shirt, with a square jaw and a thick, greying crew cut. He had the air of a man who let little disturb his composure, and regarded them with small, weary eyes, as if he had far more pressing and important business to deal with. He neither greeted them nor introduced himself but came straight to the point.

‘What were you two doing in Hangar 885?’

‘Who are you?’ retorted Caroline, as she had to Roberts earlier.

‘I am in charge of security on the base.’

‘Are you in Military Intelligence?’

‘I repeat: what were you doing in Hangar 885?’

‘As a military police officer I can go where I like,’ said Caroline. ‘What do you mean by bringing us here? Who are you? And who’s Master Sergeant Roberts?’

‘A delegation will be sent to the base to look for me if I don’t report back soon,’ said Marion, which was not a complete lie. ‘I’m a detective with the Icelandic Criminal Investigation Department. My colleagues are aware I had business in the hangar. I don’t know if you’re Wilbur Cain or if you’re working for him, but the Icelandic police have his name. We gather he was acquainted with an Icelander called Kristvin. They were spotted together at a bar here called the Animal Locker, also known as the Zoo. We have reason to believe that Kristvin was pushed off the scaffolding in Hangar 885. And we are now reasonably confident that a marine called Earl Jones was involved, so we would request that you deliver him into our custody. Caroline has been assisting us. That seems to be public knowledge now. We owe her a great debt of gratitude. If anything were to happen to the two of us — if our bodies were found smashed up in the lava field outside the base, for example — you should be aware that the information about Kristvin, Wilbur Cain, Earl Jones and Hangar 885 is on record.’

‘Why are you telling me this?’ asked the man.