Quentin Bates - Cold Steal

‘Well, I suppose.’

‘Keep your nose clean. You’ll probably get a year when it finally comes to court and you’ll be out in six months. After that I hope never to have to cross your path again in a professional capacity.’

Orri sat up and looked happier as Gunna accelerated and then didn’t speak again until she had taken the turning along Nýbýlavegur towards the far end of Kópavogur.

‘And if you do?’ he asked suddenly.

‘If I do what?’

‘If we have to meet in your professional capacity?’

‘Then I’ll throw the book at you and hang every unsolved break-in I can find for the last twenty years on you. Does that answer your question?’

Orri finally allowed himself a wan smile. ‘Yeah. It does.’

‘Go to work tomorrow. Make it up with with Lísa. Keep your fingers clean,’ Gunna said, turning off down the rutted road leading to the block where Orri lived and checking as she did so that Eiríkur had driven past. She pulled up next to Lísa’s Ka. ‘Now piss off and make the most of your few weeks of freedom before the courts get round to your case.’

Gunna lay in the dark and wondered if she’d done the right thing. Sævaldur was furious, not least because of his complete failure to uncover any leads on the murder of Vilhelm Thorleifsson, his frustration compounded by Eiríkur finding the culprit behind the wave of burglaries around the city that had become his own personal mission over the last eighteen months. Gunna’s decision to release Orri when Sævaldur would have relished grilling him for hours in an uncomfortable interview room at Litla Hraun had practically given him palpitations. Much as she disliked working with Sævaldur Bogason, she could understand his feelings.

She knew she should be asleep, but the makeshift bed was unfamiliar and the flat was a small one. Gunna stretched out, feeling something hard digging into her back through the sofa bed’s thin upholstery. Thoughts of Sunna María, Orri and Jóhann kept nagging her, especially Jóhann’s chagrin at being asked to stay in hospital instead of going home, and his bewilderment when Gunna had told him how important it might be not to let anyone know he had survived his ordeal in the wilderness.

Eventually she had relented and Jóhann’s sons, one a younger version of their lanky, curly haired father and the other a bearded barrel of a man, had both been told that their father was alive, but sworn to silence.

Gunna padded across to the kitchen and keyed a message into her phone: Anything yet?

She toyed with the idea of making herself a cup of coffee, but immediately decided against it, knowing that a hint of caffeine would definitely rule out sleep.

In the other room, ten-month-old Ari Gíslason moaned in his sleep and Gunna could hear Soffía clucking and cooing to him as she rocked him back to sleep. Her phone buzzed discreetly on the kitchen table.

Nothing so far, she read. Had she made a huge mistake? She was sure this time Ívar Laxdal’s head would be on the block along with her own and she wondered why he had allowed her to take such a chance. She punched in another message.

Seen anything?

This time the reply came back almost instantly.

Silent as the grave, she read and smiled grimly to herself, wondering how Eiríkur was feeling outside on a cold night like this.

I’ll come and relieve you in a couple of hours, she wrote back and looked up as Soffía appeared with Ari on her shoulder.

‘He won’t go back to sleep?’

‘He’s hungry,’ Soffía said, yawning, and sat down, cradling the little boy and lifting her shirt to attach him to a nipple. ‘Can’t you sleep?’

‘No. I had a couple of hours, but woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep again.’

‘Something big going on?’ Soffía asked. ‘I know I shouldn’t ask. .’

‘I’m really not sure. I may be barking completely up the wrong tree, but I expect we’ll find out in the morning. All right, is he?’

‘He’s fine,’ Soffía said fondly. ‘He normally needs a feed around this time.’

‘So when did you last get a full night’s sleep?’

‘About this time last year.’

‘I remember all that like it was yesterday.’

‘I spoke to Drífa yesterday. I’m going to drive out to Hvalvík and see her again at the weekend. We need to let these two little reprobates get to know each other,’ she said. ‘I think he’s asleep already,’ she added, shifting the baby gently. ‘And it was lovely to see Laufey and Steini again. It’s a long time since I saw them. I’ve missed Hvalvík,’ she said wistfully. ‘I like being back in Reykjavík again, but I miss the quietness in Hvalvík.’

‘Laufey spends a lot of time with Drífa these days.’

‘Good. She must be lonely. I don’t envy her being in that position.’

‘We tend to be difficult in my family, I’m afraid, and my Gísli is no exception,’ Gunna said and started as her communicator buzzed.

‘You there, Gunna?’ She heard Eiríkur’s voice in the earpiece she hastily stuffed into one ear.

‘I’m here. What’s going on?’

‘Not sure. There’s someone moving around.’

‘Can you see who it is?’

‘No. Just a shadow in the dark. What do you want me to do?’

‘Do what you think’s best. Observe but don’t take any chances. I’m on my way.’ Gunna stood up. ‘Time to go, I’m afraid.’

‘A short night for you.’

‘Yep. Someone’s going to be grumpy in the morning.’ She grinned. ‘So feel sorry for any villains who have to deal with me tomorrow. Thanks for letting me stay.’

‘You’re welcome. I won’t make the sofa up, in case you need somewhere to crash in the morning.’

Eiríkur was swaddled in a coat that came up to his chin and a hat that came down to his eyebrows.

‘Where’s Tinna?’ Gunna asked as soon as she saw him.

‘She went to check the street.’

‘All right, what did you see?’

‘Someone came along the street, walking towards the car. Dark clothes, tallish. Disappeared between the houses.’

Gunna peered into the gloom between the patches of light cast by the few street lamps erected in the half-finished length of Kópavogsbakki. ‘Between which houses?’

‘There and there,’ Eiríkur said, pointing to one of the two houses being built for Sunna María and the completed villa next to it. ‘Tinna went that way and I went to check Sunna María’s place.’

‘All quiet?’

‘Nothing to be seen. Any luck?’ he asked as Tinna, the uniformed officer he had been paired with for the night’s surveillance, appeared from the darkness.

‘Nothing,’ she said with a shake of her head. Nothing to be seen and nothing to be heard.’

‘No movement or lights at Sunna María’s house?’

‘The lights went off not long after midnight.’

‘No visitors before that?’ Gunna said.

‘No, looks like she’s been there all evening.’

‘Unlike her to be home alone, I’d have thought. Oh well, keep an eye out and see what happens, but watch that back door,’ she warned as her phone buzzed.

Something’s going on. Give me a call, she read on the screen, and immediately dialled, walking along the street away from Tinna and Eiríkur as she did so.

The phone rang once before it was answered.

‘Communications. Siggi speaking.’

‘Hæ. Gunna. What’s going on? Any calls to any of those numbers?’

The communications officer on the other end of the line muttered to himself and she could hear him shuffling sheets of paper. ‘Your friend in Kópavogur had a text message, in English. It reads: Meet tomorrow? Does that make sense to you?’