Michael Ridpath - Where the Shadows Lie

A possibility.

There was no doubt about it, Magnus had screwed up.

At least that meant that the National Police Commissioner wouldn’t demand that he stay in Iceland for the full two years that he had originally expected. They would be glad to be rid of him next week.

And he would be glad to go.

Wouldn’t he?

It was true what he had said to Ingileif, the memories of his early life in Iceland were painful, made more so by the chance meeting with his cousin. And clearly things were not going well with Baldur. But there were things he liked about his brief time in Iceland. He did have an affinity with the country. More than that – it was a loyalty, a sense of duty. The pride that Icelanders felt for their homeland, their determination to work their butts off to make the place function, was infectious.

The Commissioner’s idea to recruit someone like Magnus wasn’t a bad one. The police officers he had met were smart, honest, hard working. They were good guys, even Baldur. They just lacked experience in big-city crime and that was something he knew he could help them with.

And then there was Ingileif.

He had no desire to go back to Colby, and he was quite sure that she had no desire to go back to him.

But Ingileif.

He had really screwed that up. She had a point, their relationship was more than a quick roll in the hay. How much more, Magnus didn’t know, and neither did she, but that didn’t matter, he shouldn’t have made it matter.

He ordered another beer.

He would try again. Say he was sorry. He wanted to see her again before he went home. She might just tell him to get lost, but it was worth the risk. There was nothing to lose.

He gulped down half his beer and left the bar.

Diego had found himself a good spot, in the smokers’ tent pitched outside in the front yard of the Grand Rokk. He had strolled in to get himself a beer at the bar, and had seen the big cop alone with his drink, absorbed in his own thoughts.

Perfect.

There was one problem; Diego’s car was still parked a couple of blocks from the bus station. He had followed Jonson on foot. There was no way that he was going to carry out the hit in daylight. He needed darkness to make good his escape.

But it was still light. He checked his watch. It was nearly nine-thirty. What was with this country? It was still only April, back home it would have gotten dark hours ago.

So he would follow Jonson. If he was still on the streets when darkness eventually fell he would do it then, otherwise he would follow him home and break in in the small hours of the morning.

Then he saw the big cop walk purposefully out of the bar, past the tent and out on to the street.

Diego followed.

Finally, it was getting dark, or at least dusk. Not quite dark enough. But if Jonson had a long walk before he got home, there might be a chance to do something. Diego would rather pump a couple of shots into Jonson’s head on a quiet street than lumber around in a strange house, with God knows who else there.

Magnus made his way to Ingileif’s house. There was a light on upstairs in her apartment. He hesitated. Would she listen to him?

There was only one way to find out.

He rang the bell at the side entrance of the house, which was where the stairs led up to her flat.

She answered the door. ‘Oh, it’s you.’

‘I’ve come to say I’m sorry,’ Magnus said. ‘I acted like a jerk.’

‘You did.’ Ingileif’s face was cool, almost expressionless. Not hostile, but certainly not pleased to see him.

‘May I come in?’ he asked.

‘No,’ said Ingileif. ‘You did act like a jerk. But your basic point was correct. You are leaving Iceland in a couple of days. It doesn’t make sense for us to get more emotionally involved with each other.’

Magnus blinked. ‘I understand that. It was what I told you, after all, but much less tactfully. But…?’

Ingileif raised her eyebrows. ‘But?’

Magnus wanted to tell her that he really liked her, that he wanted to get to know her better, that it might not make sense but that it was the right thing to do, he knew it was the right thing to do. But her grey eyes were cold. No, they said. No.

He sighed. ‘I’m very glad I met you, Ingileif,’ he said. He bent down, kissed her quickly on the cheek and turned into the gathering gloom.

Arni sat in his car, parked illegally just outside Eymundsson’s Bookshop in Austurstraeti, and called the station. Magnus had left for the evening. Then he called Magnus’s mobile number. No reply – the phone was switched off. So then he called his sister’s house.

‘Oh, hi Arni,’ Katrin said.

‘Have you seen Magnus?’

‘Not this evening. But he might be in. Let me check.’ Arni tapped his fingers on the dashboard while his sister looked in Magnus’s room. ‘No, he’s not here.’

‘Any idea where he might be?’

‘How the hell should I know?’ Katrin protested.

‘Please, Katrin. Where does he go in the evening, do you know?’

‘Not really. Wait, I think he goes to the Grand Rokk sometimes.’

‘Thanks.’ Arni hung up and drove rapidly up to the Grand Rokk. He was there in two minutes.

He had to speak to Magnus. He had checked. He had made a mistake. He knew who had killed Agnar.

He stopped the car in the street right outside the bar and ran in. He flashed his badge at the barman and asked if he had seen Magnus. He had. The big man had left fifteen minutes before.

Arni jumped back into his car and headed up the hill towards the Hallgrimskirkja. He stopped at a junction. A man crossed in front of him wearing a baggy hooded sweatshirt. The man was fairly tall, slim, with brown skin, walking determinedly. Arni knew him from somewhere.

He was the guy in the arrivals hall at Keflavik Airport. The American who had been met by the Lithuanian drug dealer.

It was a quiet road. The Hispanic guy had increased his pace to a brisk walk. He lifted up his hood.

As Arni crossed the junction heading uphill, he glimpsed Magnus shambling slowly further along the street, head down, deep in thought. Arni was tired. It took him a couple of seconds to realize what was happening. He braked, slammed the car into reverse, and sped backwards down the hill. He crashed into a parked car, threw open the door and jumped out.

‘Magnus!’ he shouted.

Magnus spun around when he heard the sound of smashing metal. So did the Hispanic guy.

The guy was only twenty metres away, maximum. He was gripping something in the front pocket of his sweatshirt.

Arni charged.

He saw the Hispanic’s eyes widen. He saw him pull the gun out of his pocket. Raise it.

Arni launched himself into mid air just as the gun went off.

Magnus saw Arni leap out of his vehicle, heard him shout, saw him run towards the tall figure in the grey hoodie.

He rushed forward just as Arni bowled the man over. He heard the sound of a gunshot, muffled by Arni’s body. The man rolled away from Arni, and turned towards Magnus. Raised his gun from a prone position.

Magnus was about twenty feet away. No chance of reaching the man before he pulled the trigger.

There was a gap between two houses on his left. He jinked and dived through. Another gunshot and a ricochet of a bullet off metal siding.

Magnus found himself in a back yard, other back yards ahead and to one side. He turned right and leapt at a six-foot-high fence. Swung his body over just as another shot rang out.

But Magnus didn’t want to run away from this guy.

He wanted to nail him.

A floodlight burst into life, dazzling Magnus. This yard backed on to a more prosperous looking house. Magnus searched for somewhere to hide.

Before it had erupted, Magnus had noticed that the floodlight was a couple of feet forward from the fence bordering the next yard along. He ran directly towards it, reached the fence and crouched down. He was in deep shadow. No chance of the man seeing him through the dazzling light.