Black Skies de-8 Page 22

  Finally the door opened and Sverrir stuck his head out.

  ‘Are you Sigurdur?’ he asked.

  ‘Sigurdur Óli, yes.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘To talk to you about Thorfinnur.’

  ‘Are you from the police?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What do the police want with the case?’

  Sverrir had pointedly not invited him in, so Sigurdur Óli remained seated on the chair in the corridor, which was fixed to another chair and a table with a pile of old magazines from which he had carefully averted his eyes.

  ‘Are you happy to discuss this in the corridor?’ asked Sigurdur Óli.

  ‘No, of course not, sorry, come in.’

  Sverrir’s office was bright and airy, furnished with a new leather suite and two wall-mounted flat screens displaying exchange rates and graphs.

  ‘Did you and Thorfinnur fall out? Is that why you parted ways?’ Sigurdur Óli asked, sitting down to face Sverrir across his desk.

  ‘Fall out? Why are you looking into this now? Has there been a new development? Where did you get the idea that we fell out? Was it you who talked to Knútur downstairs?’

  Sverrir’s questions came so thick and fast that Sigurdur Óli wondered whether to bother answering all of them.

  ‘So he must — Knútur, I mean — must have told you that I was asking questions about Lína. She said you boys had an incredible nerve and were running some kind of scheme. That’s why I’m looking into this now, since you ask; that’s the new development. What scheme was she talking about and why would she say you had an incredible nerve?’

  Sverrir studied Sigurdur Óli impassively.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re implying,’ he said finally. ‘Knútur came in here telling me that you’d been talking to him about Thorfinnur and making all kinds of insinuations that sounded pretty tasteless to me.’

  ‘Did you know Lína?’

  ‘I only remembered her when Knútur started talking about the tour we went on. I had no idea she was the same woman who was attacked the other day.’

  ‘What about you and Thorfinnur? Why did you go back to fetch the car alone? Did you quarrel? What happened?’

  ‘I presume you’ve read the files. I have nothing to add. I was going to pick him up at Beruvík but he never turned up.’

  ‘I gather he could be really stubborn. That’s how one witness put it.’

  ‘He could be, yes. He wanted to go on further than I thought advisable, given how late it was. I wanted to go back but he didn’t, so eventually we agreed that I would fetch the car, then come and pick him up. There are tracks where you can drive through the lava field.’

  ‘So he just charged on regardless and you couldn’t stop him, and then he went missing?’

  ‘It’s all in the files. And he didn’t charge on. He’d never been there before and was very taken with the scenery.’

  ‘But you’ve been there often?

  ‘Naturally. My family comes from Snaefellsnes.’

  ‘And you know this particular area well?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Was it your idea to go there in the first place?’

  Sverrir cast his mind back. ‘Yes, you can probably blame me.’

  ‘And you’ve often walked through the lava field?’

  ‘Not often, no.’

  ‘But you know how dangerous it is. Yet you left him behind on his own.’

  ‘It’s no more dangerous than a hundred other places in Iceland. You just have to be sensible.’

  ‘What was this scheme that Lína overheard you plotting?’ asked Sigurdur Óli.

  ‘There was no scheme, no plot,’ Sverrir replied. ‘I don’t know what she was on about, what the context was. Could it have been some sort of joke?’

  ‘Not according to her husband.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know him. And I didn’t know her either, and I can’t imagine what kind of rubbish she could have been saying about us.’

  ‘Yet not long afterwards, one of your group was killed. That very same autumn.’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can help you any further,’ said Sverrir. ‘I’m extremely busy, so we’d better call it a day.’

  He stood up.

  ‘His body was found washed up in Skardsvík cove,’ persevered Sigurdur Óli. ‘Have you been there?’

  ‘Yes. He had an accident. The case was closed. I don’t need to tell you that.’

  ‘His body was so badly decomposed after so long in the sea that even if there had been injuries, they wouldn’t have been visible,’ observed Sigurdur Óli, standing up as well. ‘So you didn’t get better acquainted with Lína?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘She was promiscuous. Maybe she just liked men; got a kick out of wrapping them round her little finger. Even the most careful of men.’

  ‘Yes, well, I didn’t know her at all,’ Sverrir repeated, opening the door.

  ‘Then how about a couple of individuals called Thórarinn and Hördur, alias Toggi and Höddi? One’s a van driver, the other owns a garage. Animals, the pair of them.’

  ‘No, I don’t know them. Is there any reason I should?’

  ‘They’re debt collectors. One of them killed Lína — Toggi, that is, or Toggi “Sprint” as he’s known. He certainly runs like a mother-fucker. I believe he’s about to start talking. Maybe we’ll have another little chat after that.’

  ‘Are you threatening me?’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ said Sigurdur Óli. ‘Did any of you sleep with her? Lína, I mean.’

  ‘Not me,’ answered Sverrir. ‘And let me repeat that I find these questions deeply offensive. I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve but I’m sure there must be other ways of going about it.’

  43

  Arnar, the fourth member of that fateful trip, worked on the floor above Sverrir. Sigurdur Óli went straight upstairs, asked where he could find him and located a door marked ‘Arnar Jósefsson’. After tapping several times, he pushed it open. Arnar, who was on his feet, phone pressed to his ear, gave Sigurdur Óli a look of puzzled enquiry.

  ‘I’d like to talk to you about your late colleague Thorfinnur,’ announced Sigurdur Óli.

  Arnar apologised to the person on the phone, saying he would call back later, and hung up.

  ‘I don’t believe you have an appointment,’ he said, turning the pages of his desk diary.

  ‘No, I don’t believe I do,’ said Sigurdur Óli and explained briefly who he was and why he was there. ‘Am I right that you were with your colleagues when Thorfinnur was killed?’

  Arnar stopped flicking through his diary, gestured to Sigurdur Óli to sit down and took a seat himself.

  ‘Yes. Have the police reopened the investigation?’

  ‘Could you tell me roughly what happened?’ asked Sigurdur Óli, ignoring his question.

  Arnar resigned himself to answering and started to recount the events surrounding his colleague’s death. His account was consistent with the statements given by Sverrir and Knútur. Arnar confirmed that Sverrir had been the last to see Thorfinnur alive.

  ‘Were you good friends?’ asked Sigurdur Óli. ‘What sort of relationship did you have?’

  ‘I have to ask why you’re questioning me about this now.’

  ‘So the others haven’t talked to you?’

  ‘Knútur has; he’s completely in the dark about what’s going on.’

  ‘Yes, well, maybe things will become clearer in due course. Were the four of you good friends?’

  ‘Friends? I wouldn’t really say that. More like associates.’

  ‘Colleagues?’

  ‘Colleagues, of course, as we all work here. What exactly are you driving at?’

  Sigurdur Óli took a folded piece of paper from his coat pocket.

  ‘Can you tell me who these people are?’ he asked, handing Arnar the list of those who had accompanied Lína and Ebbi on the glacier tour.

  Arnar took the
list and scanned it briefly before passing it back.

  ‘No, except for the people who invited us, the people from the accountancy firm.’

  ‘You don’t know any of the foreigners, the foreign names?’

  ‘No,’ said Arnar.

  ‘Did you know Lína, or Sigurlína Thorgrímsdóttir, from the accountant’s? Apart from meeting her on the tour?’

  ‘No. Was she the one who organised it?’

  ‘That’s right. Did any of you know her?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘None of you?’

  ‘No, unless Thorfinnur did,’ said Arnar, apparently feeling compelled to add: ‘He was single.’

  ‘I don’t suppose that would have mattered to her,’ said Sigurdur Óli. ‘How did he know Lína?’

  ‘All I mean is, if I’ve got the right woman, I have a vague memory of her flirting with him a bit, teasing him and that sort of thing. Thorfinnur was very shy around women, a bit awkward in their company, if you know what I mean. Was there anything else? I don’t want to be rude but I’m afraid I’m really pushed for time.’

  ‘So, did anything happen between them?’

  ‘No,’ said Arnar, ‘not that I know of.’

  ‘What about between her and Sverrir or Knútur?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re implying.’

  ‘Lína was the type,’ Sigurdur Óli said. ‘If you get my drift.’

  ‘Well, you’ll have to ask them.’

  On his way out of the bank, Sigurdur Óli looked in on both Sverrir and Knútur to show them the list and ask them the same questions that he had put to Arnar, including whether they recognised any of the names. He had delayed showing it to them in the hope of catching them off guard and leaving them unsure of exactly how much he knew. Sverrir hardly read the list, merely handed it back saying he had known nobody on the trip. Knútur took more time to assess the names. He was less self-assured in Sigurdur Óli’s presence than the others but gave the same answer, that he had not been acquainted with anyone except his colleagues.

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Sigurdur Óli.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Knútur. ‘Absolutely positive.’

  Sigurdur Óli was walking out of the building when he heard someone call his name and, turning, saw his old school friend Steinunn coming towards him with a smile on her face. He had not seen her since the reunion, when she had mentioned her new job at the bank and advised him that he was not her type.

  ‘What are you doing here — after a loan?’ she asked, looking hotter than ever with her blonde hair, dark eyebrows and tight black trousers.

  ‘No, I …’

  ‘Did you come to see Guffi?’ Steinunn asked. ‘He’s on holiday; he’s gone to Florida.’

  ‘No, I had a meeting on the first floor,’ Sigurdur Óli explained. ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘Fine, thanks. I enjoy working here, not like the tax office. You lot must have more than enough on your plate with two murders. It’s a bit excessive, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, I’m investigating the woman who was battered to death.’

  ‘It sounded horrific. Was it debt collectors? You hear rumours.’

  ‘We’ll get to the bottom of it,’ Sigurdur Óli replied non-committally, relieved that Steinunn did not appear to have heard about Patrekur being called in for interview.

  ‘It’s unbelievable what those debt collectors get away with,’ Steinunn said.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Now, who was it who was talking about guys like that?’ she added, as if to herself.

  ‘About debt collectors?’

  ‘Yes, something about bullying at school. God, my mind’s a blank. Anyway, he soon put a stop to it.’

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘The debt collector? No idea.’

  ‘No, the person who told you.’

  ‘Oh, I can’t remember where I heard it. I’ll let you know when it comes back to me. I have a feeling it was someone we both know, unless I’m getting confused. Or maybe I heard it at the tax office.’

  ‘Call me,’ said Sigurdur Óli.

  ‘It was good to see you. Say hi to Bergthóra, or is it all over?’

  ‘See you,’ said Sigurdur Óli and hurried out.

  44

  Kolfinna, Lína’s friend who had given Sigurdur Óli the guest lists for the company’s glacier tours, recognised him immediately when he went back to see her. She was dashing about in preparation for some meeting and he had to follow her down the corridors before he could persuade her to slow down enough to hand her back the lists of names.

  ‘Could you run through who these people are for me?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m sorry but I’m in a terrible hurry.’

  ‘Is there any more you can tell me about Lína?’

  ‘Are these people connected to her in some way?’ asked Kolfinna, running an eye down the list. ‘Christ, I’ve missed the meeting!’ she exclaimed, looking at her watch.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Sigurdur Óli said. ‘But I know this man,’ he added, pointing at Patrekur’s name. ‘This one too,’ indicating Hermann. ‘And I know who these four are.’ He pointed to the four bankers. ‘And of course I know Lína and Ebeneser, but there are lots of others left. Three foreigners, for example. They are foreigners, aren’t they? These ones here.’

  ‘It looks like it from the names. Are you wondering whether they might be resident in Iceland?’

  ‘Can you fill in any of the gaps?’

  ‘These two, Snorri and Einar, work here with us. I think this guy, Gudmundur, is a VIP client of theirs, and this one here, Ísak, is a big client too. I don’t know the foreigners. Maybe you should talk to Snorri; he might know more.’

  ‘Snorri?’

  ‘He deals with our parent company overseas. Maybe he knows who these foreigners are. Sorry, got to dash. Nice to see you again.’

  Snorri was no less pressed than Kolfinna and Sigurdur Óli had to resign himself to waiting outside his office for twenty minutes before the door finally opened and he was ushered in. During their conversation the phone rang incessantly and Snorri answered some of the calls while ignoring the rest.

  Sigurdur Óli explained the situation and the reason he needed information about the foreigners who had been on the corporate excursion. He did not mention the attack on Lína or Thorfinnur’s death, only that the police were investigating links between individuals in the corporate world. Snorri, a lean, agile man who obviously spent a good deal of time at the gym, answered quickly and concisely. He studied the list.

  ‘These two came to Iceland as our guests,’ he said, pointing to two of the foreign names. ‘We’re only a subsidiary of an international accountancy firm, as our name suggests. These men look after relations between us and their other subsidiaries in Scandinavia. They visit Iceland regularly, so we decided to send them on this tour. I gather they had a great time too.’

  ‘What about this one?’ asked Sigurdur Óli, pointing to the third foreign name.

  ‘No, I don’t know about him,’ said Snorri. ‘I think he must have been with the bankers.’

  ‘Do you know them at all?’

  ‘No. But we were doing a lot of business with the bank at the time, so I assume that’s how they came to be invited. Shall we check out this guy?’

  ‘If you wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘No problem.’

  Snorri opened a search engine on his computer and typed in the man’s name. A number of results appeared and he clicked on the top one, then closed it and tried the next. In under a minute he had the facts.

  ‘He’s some executive at a bank in Luxembourg, not right at the top but in a good position. A middle manager, you might say. Alain Sörensen. Swedish on his father’s side, French on his mother’s, brought up in Sweden. Born 1969. Specialises in derivatives. Wife, two kids. Educated in France. Hobbies: cycling and travelling. Is that him?’ Snorri asked, looking up from the screen.

  ‘It’s the right name,’ Sigurdur Óli said.

&n
bsp; ‘He has nothing to do with our company; I think I can say that with confidence.’

  ‘Isn’t it likely then that he was with the bankers?’

  ‘Very likely. They’re the only people in the group who would have dealings with foreign banks.’

  Sigurdur Óli thought back to the three men who had studied the list and claimed not to know anyone on it.

  ‘What’s it all about?’ asked Snorri. ‘Surely a bankers’ get-together isn’t a police matter?’

  ‘You wouldn’t have thought so,’ said Sigurdur Óli. ‘What do you make of it? What’s going on with all these banks and new billionaires?’

  ‘It’s not complicated,’ said Snorri.

  ‘Are they all financial rocket scientists?’

  ‘If only. The problem is that very few of the people involved in this new big-bucks business have much expertise in finance, and quite frankly some of them aren’t all that bright.’

  ‘Personally I’ve been quite impressed by what they’ve achieved,’ said Sigurdur Óli.

  ‘Yeah, sure, they’re buying up big-name companies in Denmark and the UK and putting Iceland on the map, as they say. Some of them are cleverer than others. And the boost to the banking sector has created a huge amount of work, not least for people in my line of business, as well as bringing plenty of revenue into the country. But they’re no wizards. They’ve simply discovered that there’s a vast supply of cheap credit in the world, short-term borrowing, just there for the taking. They have complex ownership arrangements and scoop up all the credit they can lay their hands on before lending it back to themselves, their companies and each other in order to buy companies, banks and airlines, paying enormous sums for them.’

  ‘So what’s wrong with that?’ asked Sigurdur Óli.

  ‘On the surface it looks as if they’re making money and accumulating businesses,’ explained Snorri, ‘but all that’s happening is that the shares in their companies are rising, so it looks as if they’re making a profit and that their loans are increasing simultaneously in value. There are indications that they’re pushing the share prices way beyond their economic value. Then when the public and so-called professional investors like pension funds see the share price going through the roof, they jump on the bandwagon, and the New Vikings take out even bigger loans against the rise, which is driven by a vastly inflated asset valuation. And so on.’