Michael Ridpath: Where the Shadows Lie

Silence again.

He examined the ring. Hakon had kept it in very good shape. It didn’t look a thousand years old, but then gold didn’t necessarily. He peered at the inside rim. He could make out the shapes of runes. What was it they were supposed to say? Andvaranautur. The Ring of Andvari.

The ring. It was the ring that had destroyed his family. Once Hogni had found it, they were doomed.

It had obsessed his father and caused his death. It had briefly obsessed Petur before he had tried to put it behind him. It had obsessed Agnar and the foreign Lord of the Rings fans, and it had obsessed Hakon. No possessed Hakon.

Only his grandfather, Hogni, had had the courage to put the ring back where it belonged. Out of reach of men.

Petur had spent his whole life struggling against the power of the ring. He should face facts. He had lost. The ring had won.

Petur slipped the ring on his finger.

If Inga refused to keep quiet, she would have to die. That was all there was to it.

Petur checked his watch. An hour to go. He put his BMW in gear and headed on to the rendezvous with his sister.

Magnus drove fast to Fludir. The driveway in front of Ingileif’s house was empty. He jumped out of his car and rang the doorbell. Nothing. He stood back and examined the windows. No signs of life. It was a gloomy day, and if there was anyone inside they would have needed at least one light on.

Damn! Where the hell was she?

He looked around, searching for inspiration. An old man in dungarees and a flat cap was pottering about in the next door garden.

Magnus hailed him. ‘Good morning!’

‘Good afternoon,’ the man corrected him.

‘Have you seen Ingileif?’ Magnus was quite sure that in a village the size of Fludir, the man would know who Ingileif was, even if she hadn’t lived there herself for years.

‘You just missed her.’

‘How long ago?’

The man stood up straight. Stretched. Took his cap off, displaying spiky grey hair. Examined Magnus. Put his cap back on. Scratched his chin. He wasn’t necessarily that old, but from his face, Magnus could tell he had spent decades outside in the cold and rain. And he wasn’t rightly sure whether to help this stranger.

‘How long ago did she leave?’ Magnus repeated.

‘I heard you. I’m not deaf.’

Magnus forced a smile. ‘I’m a friend of hers. It’s urgent I find her.’

‘About ten minutes ago,’ the man replied eventually. ‘She didn’t stay long.’

‘Which way did she go?’

‘Couldn’t say for sure.’

‘What kind of car does she drive?’ Magnus asked. He had no clue himself.

‘Seems to me,’ the man said. ‘If you are her friend, you would know that.’

Magnus fought to control his impatience. ‘This might sound melodramatic, but I believe she’s in danger. I really need to find her.’

The man just grunted and turned back to his yard.

Magnus leaped over the fence, grabbed the old man’s arm and twisted it behind his back. ‘Tell me what kind of car she drives or I’ll break it!’

The man grunted in pain. ‘I won’t tell you anything. Dr Asgrimur was a good friend of mine, and I’m not going to help anyone harm his daughter.’

‘Goddamn Icelanders!’ Magnus muttered in English and threw the man to the ground. Stubborn bastards the lot of them.

He climbed back in his car. Where to? If she had driven back to meet Petur in Reykjavik Magnus should have spotted her – he had kept an eye out for her among the drivers he had met coming the other way. There wasn’t much to the north of Fludir. But to the east was Hruni. Perhaps she had gone there. Either to meet Petur, or to look for the ring.

The turn-off to Hruni was just to the south of the village. He sped the three kilometres in two minutes. As he expected there was a police car in the car park in front of the church, with a single officer reading a book in the front seat.

The book was Crime and Punishment. The policeman had nearly finished.

He recognized Magnus and greeted him.

‘Have you seen Ingileif Asgrimsdottir?’ Magnus asked. ‘Blonde woman, late twenties?’

‘No. And I’ve been here since eight this morning.’

‘Damn!’

‘Did you hear they think they’ve found Hakon’s body?’ the constable said.

‘Yeah, I’ve seen it, at the bottom of Hjalparfoss. He’s dead, there’s not much doubt about that. But I’m worried about Ingileif. I think whoever killed the pastor is after her.’

‘I’ll radio in if I see her.’

‘Can you call me on my cell?’ Magnus said, giving the constable his number.

‘You could ask those guys back there.’

Magnus turned. A car was parked by the side of the road over-looking the church and the rectory.

‘Who are they?’

‘Three men. One Icelander and two foreigners. I asked them what they were doing, they didn’t have an answer, or not one that made any sense.’

Feldman and Jubb, Magnus thought. ‘They’re waiting for you to leave so they can search the church,’ he said. ‘But thank you, I’ll go speak with them.’

He drove up to the car. There was a small Icelander in the driver’s seat, with Jubb next to him and Feldman in the back. They looked distinctly uncomfortable to see Magnus.

Magnus got out of his own vehicle and approached theirs. The Icelander wound down his window.

‘Hello, Lawrence, Steve,’ Magnus said in English, nodding to the two foreigners.

‘Afternoon, officer,’ said Lawrence from the back seat.

‘And you are?’ Magnus asked the Icelander.

‘Axel Bjarnason. I’m a private investigator. I’m working for Mr Feldman.’

‘To do what?’

Axel shrugged.

‘He’s helping us with some research,’ Feldman said.

Magnus was about to tell them they were wasting their time, the church had been thoroughly searched and there was no ring there, when he thought better of it. Let them spend all day on this godforsaken heath in the mist.

‘Have any of you seen Ingileif Asgrimsdottir?’ he asked.

Axel’s expression of patient disinterest didn’t change. But he didn’t answer the question. Jubb frowned.

‘No, officer, we haven’t,’ Feldman said. ‘At least not today. We tried to speak with her yesterday, but she wasn’t real excited to see us.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ said Magnus. ‘If you do see her, let me know.’ He scribbled his number on to a piece of paper torn from his note-book and gave it to Feldman. ‘The pastor has just been found. Murdered. I’m pretty sure the guy who did it is after Ingileif right now.’

Feldman took the card. ‘We’ll be sure to call you,’ he said.

Magnus turned to look at the church, squatting beneath the crags in the mist. A raven descended out of the cloud and landed by the side of the road a few feet ahead. It strutted along, eyeing the two cars.

‘Enjoy your day,’ Magnus said, and jumped back into his vehicle. He sped off down the hill back to the main road.

He must have missed her coming the other way. Reykjavik. His best bet was Reykjavik.

Steve Jubb watched the cop’s car disappear over the hill. ‘You know this isn’t right.’

‘What isn’t right, Gimli?’ Feldman said.

‘For a start, my name isn’t Gimli, it’s Steve.’

‘We discussed this before. We should use our nicknames.’

‘No, Lawrence. My name isn’t Gimli, it’s Steve. Your name isn’t Isildur, it’s Lawrence. This isn’t Middle Earth, it’s Iceland. Lord of the Rings isn’t real, it’s a story. A bloody good story, but a story none the less.’

‘But Gimli, the ring could be in that church! The ring from the Volsung Saga. The ring that Tolkien wrote about. Don’t you realise how cool that is!’