Arnaldur Indriðason - Operation Napoleon

‘Hello,’ she heard a voice say at the other end. ‘Is that Kristín? This is Júlíus. I’m in charge of the team here on Vatnajökull. Can you hear me okay?’

‘Loud and clear,’ Kristín said hurriedly. ‘Is Elías with you? Is he all right?’

‘I’m afraid Elías is missing.’

‘He’s missing? How come? Where is he?’

‘He and Jóhann left camp about seven hours ago and haven’t returned yet. But we’ve traced a signal from Elías’s phone and expect to find them as soon as it gets light. They may have got lost – it’s very dark here. But I can’t rule out the possibility that they’ve had an accident. Elías has plenty of experience on glaciers though, so there’s no need to panic.’

‘Have you noticed any soldiers in the area?’ Kristín asked.

‘Soldiers? No. What do you mean, soldiers?’

‘Elías phoned me from the glacier and said there were soldiers coming towards him.’

‘When did Elías call you?’

‘It must have been about three or four hours ago. We were cut off seconds after he saw the soldiers.’

‘No, we haven’t noticed any movements up here. The boys were test-driving our new snowmobiles and could have covered quite a distance in that time, but there’s no one around except us.’

‘Didn’t they give you any idea of where they were going? Do you think Elías could be in danger?’

‘They didn’t, and I can’t imagine so, not unless he’s travelling in the dark. There’s a large belt of crevasses several hours to the west of us, but he’s careful, and so’s Jóhann. I expect they’ve stopped somewhere and their phone’s out of range. If they stay where they are, we’ll find them quickly once it gets light. What on earth made you call about Elías? Did you have some kind of premonition?’

‘I was informed that Elías was dead,’ Kristín said, ‘and that it was connected somehow to the soldiers he saw on the glacier.’

‘Elías isn’t dead. He’s missing but he’s alive.’

‘Kristín.’ Steve was looking out of the living room window, the curtain pushed to one side. He was staring down at the car park in front of the building.

‘Can I get hold of you on this number later?’ Kristín asked, ignoring Steve.

‘Who told you Elías was dead? Who would do a thing like that?’

‘It’s too complicated to explain now. I’ll talk to you later.’

She took down his number and rang off. Júlíus had a manner of natural authority that in any other context would have been reassuring, she thought; he spoke confidently and precisely. But the conversation had done nothing to allay her fears.

‘How did you get here?’ Steve asked.

‘By taxi.’

‘Did anyone else know you were coming here?’

‘No, no one.’

‘Did you pay using cash?’

‘No, by debit card.’

‘Those men, did they have fair hair?’ Steve asked in a level voice.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Actually, it can’t be, these guys aren’t wearing jackets and ties, they’re in ski-suits and boots.’

‘Steve, what the hell are you on about?’

‘There are two men standing outside, staring up at my window.’

‘What do you mean?’ Kristín said, the colour draining from her face.

She ran to the window, peered down at the car park and gasped in horror.

‘Jesus, it’s them. How the hell did they find me here?’

Steve leapt back from the window as if he had been struck. ‘They’ve seen us. Come on!’

Kristín was still wearing her coat. Steve yanked on boots and a thick down jacket; seconds later they were outside on the landing. Peering down the stairwell, they saw Ripley and Bateman entering the hall below and running towards the stairs.

‘Shit,’ muttered Steve.

‘Have you got a gun?’ Kristín asked.

‘Why would I have a gun?’

‘Just my luck to meet the only bloody American who doesn’t carry a gun,’ she swore in Icelandic.

‘Come on,’ he cried, running back into the apartment and locking the door behind them. They dashed out on to the little balcony. It was a six-metre drop to the ground – too high. Nor could they swing down to the balcony below, but there was a chance they could jump on to the one next door. From the front door to the apartment came the sound of hammering. Steve helped Kristín climb on to the rail and, grasping the ice-cold metal, she pushed herself up, almost succumbing to vertigo when she looked down, convinced for a moment that she was going to fall. Large lumps of snow slithered off the balcony, vanishing into the darkness below. Conquering her dizziness and ignoring the pain from her hands as the cold bit into them, she jumped over to the next balcony, dropping to the cement floor with a thud and a gasp. Steve followed just as the door to his apartment burst open.

He snatched up a heavy plant pot from the floor of his neighbour’s balcony and used it to smash the glass of the veranda door, before opening it from the inside. They hurried in, straight through the apartment, kicking children’s toys out of the way and almost falling over a vacuum cleaner, and out on to the landing, then raced down the stairs.

Ripley and Bateman ran through Steve’s apartment and, hearing the sound of smashing glass, out on to the balcony where they saw that the veranda door of the neighbouring apartment was open. Spinning round, they rushed back through the apartment, only to spot Steve and Kristín vanishing into the stairwell. A fat man wearing nothing but his underpants emerged from the neighbouring flat and walked straight into Ripley and Bateman’s path. They collided with him, knocking him to the ground where Ripley tripped over him.

Steve and Kristín made the most of their head-start, hurtling out of the front door of the building as the two men regained their feet. Steve ran to his car, Kristín following close behind. It was unlocked and Steve got behind the wheel, Kristín jumping in beside him.

‘Keys… keys!’ Steve shouted, slapping his jeans frantically, then digging his hand into a pocket.

‘Where are the keys?’ Kristín shouted back.

‘Got them!’ Steve replied, extracting a bunch from his pocket and shoving the correct key in the ignition. He pressed the accelerator to the floor as he turned the key. Nothing happened. The ignition hissed but the engine failed to catch.

‘Jesus!’ Steve swore between clenched teeth.

He tried again, thumping the steering wheel, stamping his foot down and switching on the ignition. The engine coughed for a few long seconds, then roared into life. He rammed it into drive and the car took a bound, hurling Kristín back in her seat. The stench of petrol filled her nose as the wheels spun in the snow, the engine screeching as the tyres tried to get a purchase, the back of the car skidding sideways, but just as the two men raced out of the building the wheels caught, the car jumped forwards and they were away.

Looking back, Kristín saw them chase the car briefly before giving up and standing at a loss, watching the vehicle disappear from view.

Steve turned his eyes from the road to look at Kristín. ‘I thought you were crazy when you arrived at my place. Out of your mind.’

‘Thanks, I noticed.’

‘I don’t think so any more. Sorry.’

He drove on, checking the mirrors every few seconds. Kristín noticed that he was gripping the steering wheel hard to stop his hands from shaking.

‘There’s only one way they could know about you,’ Kristín said after a minute’s silence.

‘What’s that?’

‘Elías. They’re connected to what’s happening on the glacier. They’ve got your name from Elías. That has to be it. They must think he’s told me something; that he’s told me about them. And about the plane, whatever it’s doing up there. The men are in contact with the soldiers and they got my phone number from Elías’s mobile. That’s how they knew. They know I’m his sister. And they think I know something; that Elías told me something. That’s why they’re after me.’