Meltwater (34 page)

Tom Bryant.

Magnus sent Árni back to the station and went down the road to meet him. Bryant lowered his
Tribune
and smiled at Magnus. ‘Want a lift?’

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

B
RYANT DROVE MAGNUS
up to the Pearl, the globular exhibition building set atop geothermal hot-water tanks on a low hill overlooking the city. It was still early; there were few cars in the parking lot. They sat in the car, staring out over the scrappy trees that surrounded the hill towards the jumble of brightly coloured toy houses of Thingholt. In the foreground commuter aeroplanes manoeuvred around the taxiways of Reykjavík City Airport. It was a clear, breezy day – no sign of any ash.

‘Do you have some questions for me?’ Bryant asked.

‘You’ve studied Freeflow?’ Magnus asked.

‘I have.’

‘Who do
you
think hates it enough to kill?’

‘The Zimbabwe government. The Italian mafia. Maybe some individuals who have been bruised along the way. And the Israelis. Perhaps.’

‘Zimbabwe!’ cried Magnus. ‘Not another goddamned country. At least we don’t have any black suspects.’

‘They could pay white guys,’ Bryant said.

‘Don’t,’ said Magnus. ‘What about the Gruppo Cavour scandal? Is that real?’

‘That one will run and run,’ said Bryant. ‘It will keep the Italian courts busy for years. The key thing there is that powerful people in Italy believe there is more to come out from Freeflow. Implicating other politicians beyond Tretto.’

‘So they might be trying to shut down Freeflow before it publishes?’

‘Could be.’

‘Did you know that Nico Andreose was a plant? He was working for Tretto all along.’

‘Yes.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘You didn’t want me to. You were very specific: no sharing of information.’

Magnus sighed. ‘OK. Is there anything else you know?’

Bryant didn’t answer at first. Over Reykjavík a little black cloud was gathering itself, ready to dump water on to the Hallgrímskirkja below.

‘That depends,’ the agent said at last.

‘On what?’

‘On what Freeflow is working on now.’

‘I can’t tell you that.’

‘But you know?’

Magnus nodded. ‘I know.’

‘OK,’ said Bryant. ‘We have information that there is a videotape floating around. A video of the shooting of some UN workers in Gaza in January 2009.’

‘Is there?’

‘Yes there is. What we don’t know is whether this video has found its way to Freeflow. And whether Freeflow is planning to publish it in the next few days. That would be very useful information to have.’

‘I imagine it would.’

‘Come on, Magnus, help me out here. I’ve helped you.’

‘Not very much.’

Bryant was silent. The little black cloud a mile away opened up, dropping a grey curtain of rain on to the town below.

‘OK,’ Bryant said. ‘We believe it’s a fake.’

‘What, so Tamara Wilton and the others weren’t really killed?’ Magnus knew that he was more or less admitting that Bryant was on the right track.

‘Have you seen it?’

Magnus nodded. ‘It didn’t look fake to me.’

‘It wouldn’t,’ Bryant said. ‘But our information is that it’s not the actual video which is fake. It’s the audio.’

‘Oh,’ said Magnus.

‘Would that make a difference?’

‘Yes,’ Magnus said. ‘Yes, it would.’ He thought about the images. Part of what had made them so disturbing, a big part, was the callousness of the crew. And that had only come across in the words they had spoken, or the translation Erika had given him of the Hebrew, and the laughter, the smug chuckles. What if the soldiers had actually been discussing how they were sure they were firing at an anti-tank crew? Or even if they had said nothing?

The video was still pretty disturbing, but the incident would be easier to dismiss as part of the confusion of war. Possibly a downgrade from ‘war crime’ to ‘war accident’. That would be an important distinction.

‘Who faked it? Not Freeflow?’

‘No, definitely not Freeflow,’ Bryant said.

‘The Palestinians?’ Magnus said.

‘Could be. Obviously they want to make the Israelis look bad. Or it could be the Israelis themselves – or rather right-wing extremists in Israel.’

‘Why?’

‘There are a number of elements within Israel who don’t like the peace process. You remember I told you that the Israeli government and the Palestinians are close to a peace accord?’

Magnus nodded.

‘Well, there are some concessions in there from the Israelis about halting settlement on the West Bank. Some on the Israeli right wing think that those concessions go too far. If the video is released, the peace process is screwed, and Jews can continue to settle the West Bank.’

‘You guys don’t make things simple,’ said Magnus.

Bryant smiled. ‘Welcome to my world.’

‘So is there any chance that Mossad is behind Nico Andreose’s death?’

‘You tell me. Mossad are pros. Was the guy who killed Andreose a pro?’

Magnus thought of the botched attack on the volcano. The failure to kill Erika again the day before. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not professionals. We’re dealing with an amateur here. What about the Italians? You are saying it is more than just the minister Tretto involved?’

‘Oh, yes. It’s one of the Italian mafia organizations. Not as professional as Mossad, of course, but still professionals.’

That still didn’t quite fit. ‘Thank you, Tom,’ said Magnus. ‘Now, can you give me a lift back to my car?’

‘Can you tell me when Freeflow is going to publish the video?’

‘No,’ said Magnus.

‘Why not?’ said Bryant, his voice edged with anger.

‘They don’t know themselves. Whenever the volcano lets them, I guess.’

‘They are planning a press conference?’

Magnus shrugged. ‘I think this conversation is over now. Thanks for your help.’

They drove back to Magnus’s car in silence. Bryant paused at the bottom of Thórsgata to let Magnus out. ‘Remember what I said. About the video. You may want to tell Freeflow.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ said Magnus.

Erika, Dieter and Apex were online in the chat room. She was ten feet away from Dieter and many thousands of miles away from Apex.

Erika began to type:
did dieter tell you about asta?

She found it very hard to type that last word. She stared at the line she had just written and was overwhelmed by a desire to burst into tears. She tried to press
Send
but she just couldn’t.

She pushed her chair back from the desk and hurried over to the window. She stared out at the house’s scrappy yard, her back to the others, and took some deep breaths.

She was finding it really difficult to hold it together. She was used to high-pressure situations, to high stakes; she thrived on them. Freeflow had received all sorts of threats over the years and she had never backed down. Never.

But this time . . .

She had been able to handle the murder of her lover. It had been hard, but she had dealt with it. But then there was the attack on herself. And the discovery that Nico had betrayed her all along. And finally the death of Ásta.

Ásta was innocent. She reminded Erika of a more innocent version of herself. Ásta hadn’t deserved to die.

Erika’s credo was that however much pressure Freeflow came under, they would always publish.

Now she wasn’t so sure.

She felt a touch on her shoulder. She wanted to shrug it off, but she took one last deep breath and turned.

It was Dieter. ‘Are you OK, Erika?’

His face was full of concern. Of tenderness. Dieter was always there for her, for Freeflow. He would do anything for the cause,
her
cause.

She couldn’t let him down. Not now. Couldn’t show weakness.

She took another breath. Somehow, miraculously, she had been able to hold back the tears. ‘Yes. Yes, Dieter, of course I am.’

She pushed past him and back to her desk, sending her last message on its way as she sat down. She only waited a few seconds for a response.

Apex:
yes. presumably the police haven’t found who killed her.

Erika:
the police are useless. they asked whether she might have submitted her own leak in the last couple of days. anyone seen anything?

Apex:
i checked the new stuff last night. yet another fraternity handbook. cornell. and something about waste dumping in the amazon in peru.

Erika:
none of that sounds like asta.

Apex:
what are we going to do?

Erika:
what do you think we should do?

Apex:
i think you should get the hell out of iceland.

Dieter:
we can’t. the volcano.

Apex:
you could fly west. to america. get the hell out of there.

Erika:
if we leave now, these people will have died for nothing.

Apex:
if you don’t leave you will die for nothing.

Erika stared at her screen. Apex had a point. But so had she. She wished she could get out of the damn house, go for a run or something, get some perspective.

Erika:
let’s leave tomorrow. the websites are ready, the video is edited. we can publish on sunday.

Apex:
we haven’t verified it properly yet. presumably gareth hasn’t got to iceland?

Dieter:
no flights. no it hasn’t been properly verified.

Erika:
and we could use gareth’s help to identify some of the objects in the stills. but he isn’t here. we have to do the best we can.

Apex:
if it isn’t verified, we shouldn’t publish.

Erika:
have you checked out the helicopter noise?

Apex:
i’ve tried: i can’t find any proof that there’s anything wrong. it just doesn’t sound right to me.

Erika:
we’ve come this far. we have to publish. it really would be abandoning nico and asta just to drop everything and run away. i couldn’t do that. could you?

Dieter:
erika’s right, apex
.
this is the biggest leak freeflow has ever had. we have been working for something like this for four years. we have to take the risk.

The screen was still for a minute.

Apex:
ok. we do it. what about the press conference?

Erika:
we’ll do something in london with samantha wilton if I can get there. otherwise let’s fly west as apex suggested. do a press conference in washington.

Apex:
they think there’s a chance airspace might be opened up over the north of britain and norway.

Erika:
it will be tough to get tickets though.

Apex:
i can help with that.

Erika:
thanks apex.

Erika knew what Apex meant: he would hack into the airline reservation systems to get them seats.

Erika:
okay. it’s decided. i’ll get hold of alan in london to see what he can do about a press conference either there or in washington, depending on the volcano. and we will have the video ready tomorrow, ready for publication sunday. agreed?

Dieter:
agreed.

Apex:
agreed.

Erika:
thanks guys.

Erika picked up the phone to call Alan in London. She felt better. Her breathing was steady, her eyes still dry. Only one more day holed up here in Iceland.

She could manage that.

Ollie staggered out of the house on to Njálsgata. He and Katrín had been out late the night before, had had a good time, and he had missed his brother entirely. He thought he had heard a door banging shortly after he had gone to sleep, Katrín beside him, but he wasn’t sure. She had abandoned him earlier that morning, claiming she had to go to work somewhere. Ollie had had trouble believing that she could actually have something as mundane as a day job, but everyone had to earn money and she seemed pretty determined to leave the house by nine.

A stiff breeze was blowing and the sky was divided into complicated layers of clouds, underneath which a tight ball of grey was rolling towards him. Ollie climbed the hill to where the great penis-shaped church stood and scurried inside when the cloud burst. The shower only lasted a few minutes, and once it had gone, he escaped the church and headed down the other side of the hill.

Ollie had dreaded coming to Iceland, but he had to admit it wasn’t so bad. All those brightly coloured little tin houses were cute, and the people were cool. He had met a load of random strangers in the bar the night before, many of them female, all of them friendly. Katrín had woman-handled him away from a couple of promising situations, but that was fair enough, he supposed.