Oblivion (18 page)

‘An old friend of mine, a woman who used to travel at lot, sent me those ornaments over many years,’ said Marion. ‘No two are alike or come from the same place.’

‘Used to? Has she given up now?’

‘I got a letter the day before yesterday informing me that she was dead,’ said Marion. ‘It came as quite a shock. I … I wasn’t expecting it.’

‘I see,’ said Erlendur. ‘You can’t have felt like coming into work.’

His eyes fell on the photograph of an older man in a black suit, which stood on a table. Beside it burned a candle in a small holder made of lava.

‘A friend of mine,’ said Marion. ‘He rejoiced in the unusual name of Athanasius. Died years ago. Did you see Caroline? I hear you’ve been out to the base.’

Erlendur nodded and put Marion in the picture about his meeting with Caroline, the cocktail waitress Joan and her relationship with Kristvin, and the fact that Kristvin had in all likelihood been with her the evening he fell to his death. He wouldn’t have been able to use the Corolla, so would have had to walk and might conceivably have been attacked by the same individuals who had sabotaged his car. Erlendur admitted that he and Caroline had had a difference of opinion about the presence of the army and that he wasn’t sure she would offer them any further help.

‘It was clever of her to find that woman, that Joan, so quickly,’ said Marion. ‘She’s done us a good turn. We should try and keep her happy. Try not to quarrel with her unnecessarily.’

‘Of course. I did try not to, but she’s got quite a temper on her and knows her own mind. I’m hoping she’s going to check a name for us – the man Joan mentioned, who was at the Animal Locker with Kristvin. Well, I say “name” – Kristvin referred to him as “W”.’

‘Dubya?’

‘That’s all we’ve got,’ said Erlendur. ‘Caroline said it wasn’t much to go on, but the odds are that he’s a member of the Defense Force, or at least associated with it.’

‘And Joan’s husband wasn’t in the country?’

‘So she claims. Caroline was going to check up on that too. His name’s Earl Jones, and if Joan’s to be believed, he doesn’t pay her much attention. She’s pretty outspoken.’

‘Like a lot of Americans,’ said Marion.

‘Probably a racist too, judging by the way she went for Caroline,’ said Erlendur.

‘Oh?’

‘They almost came to blows. Joan thought she was talking down to her.’

‘Caroline must have had her hands full with you two,’ said Marion. ‘I feel quite sorry for her.’

‘Hmm. So, do you reckon Kristvin was already being watched on the base? That people were aware of his movements? Knew about Joan?’

‘I’ve been thinking about what that freak Rúdólf told us. What if Kristvin had uncovered evidence relating to arms shipments in that hangar? Something earth-shattering that would really cause a stir if it leaked out. What if he drew attention to himself by asking questions? Could information about the shipments be so sensitive that they’d actually be prepared to kill Kristvin to shut him up?’

‘It’s like a whole different country out there on Midnesheidi,’ said Erlendur. ‘What do we know about how they do things? Look at Vietnam. Or Watergate. What are we supposed to think?’

‘Do you drink port, by the way? It’s all I have,’ said Marion, pouring another glass.

‘No, thanks.’

‘They put a man on the moon,’ Marion pointed out.

‘Sure, I’m not knocking their achievements.’

Erlendur had a lot of time for Marion, though he never admitted as much. Since joining CID he had been given a completely free hand, though Marion kept an eye on what he was doing and at times criticised his work in a manner that Erlendur found pedantic, even downright harsh. So it was a surprise to find himself sitting in Marion’s living room all of a sudden. He didn’t know what he’d done to earn this honour and didn’t enquire.

‘How’s your other case progressing?’ asked Marion.

‘Dagbjört, you mean?’

‘Yes.’

Erlendur delved in his pocket for the pages he had found in the girl’s bedroom and handed them over.

‘I found these hidden in her room. The house is for sale and they let me look round. The neighbour she appears to be referring to still lives next door. Bit of an oddball. Grew up alone with his mother – Mrs Kruse, as he calls her.’

Marion read the pages twice.

‘Was he the peeping Tom?’

‘I asked him straight out,’ said Erlendur, ‘and he shut the door in my face. Name’s Rasmus. Rasmus Kruse. Mother was Danish. He doesn’t have a police record, not that that tells us much. I want to give him time to think it over before I pay him another visit.’

‘She was scared of him,’ said Marion, looking at the pages, ‘but didn’t want to tell anyone.’

‘She must have been embarrassed.’

‘She was obviously pretty innocent. She sounds so bewildered.’

‘Yes. She doesn’t understand what he’s up to. Mind you, a brief comment like that’s not much to go on.’

‘So no one knew? That this man was spying on her?’

‘No, I doubt it,’ said Erlendur. ‘I’m guessing Dagbjört never let on to her parents or friends. And the man’s name doesn’t crop up anywhere in the case files. No one seems to have interviewed him or, if they did, there’s no note of it.’

‘Of course you can never interview everyone.’

‘No, true.’

‘This is quite a significant discovery,’ said Marion, handing back the pages. ‘Have you told her aunt?’

‘No, not yet. I want to look into it a bit more before I start raising any false hopes.’

‘You’re right,’ said Marion, eyes resting meditatively on the little figurines on the bookshelves. ‘It’s not fair to go around raising false hopes.’

THERE SEEMED NO
point in detaining Ellert and Vignir any longer. Despite their continued denials of any wrongdoing, they were going to be charged, so there were no further grounds for keeping them locked up. They would be placed under a travel ban until their case came to court. They smirked at Erlendur as they walked out of Sídumúli Prison, as if they had won a major victory against the police. Erlendur was only too glad to see the back of them.

When he returned to Kópavogur, there was a message for him to call Caroline. He knew the number of her workplace but didn’t recognise the one she had given this time. It turned out to be her home phone. She answered after one ring.

‘What the hell have you gotten me into?’ she said the moment she heard Erlendur’s voice.

‘Why, what’s the matter?’

‘I need to see you. Not here on the base. Down in the village.’

‘The village? You mean Keflavík?’

‘Yeah, Keflavík. Know the place?’

‘Not very well,’ Erlendur admitted.

‘Meet me by the soccer field,’ said Caroline. ‘In the parking lot. You ought to be able to find that. Get going. Now!’

She hung up and Erlendur was left staring at the receiver, not knowing what had hit him. Caroline had sounded in a real state, spitting out the words in a frantic whisper. He thought he had detected genuine fear in her voice.

This was the day after his visit to Marion, who still didn’t feel up to coming into the office, so Erlendur drove out to Keflavík alone, ignoring the speed limit. He hadn’t been lying when he said he didn’t know the town, so after driving aimlessly up and down the main street, he stopped a pedestrian who directed him to the football ground. When he arrived, there were only a handful of vehicles in the car park and he saw Caroline step out of one and walk towards him. She jerked open the passenger door and got in.

‘Drive somewhere out of town,’ she said.

‘What’s wrong? What are you afraid of?’

‘Just drive!’

Caroline was wearing an army jacket with the hood up. It had a fur ruff that almost completely hid her face. Neither said a word while Erlendur found his way to a road leading west out of town and eventually came to a sign pointing to Sandgerdi and Gardur. He opted for Gardur and they drove in tense silence until finally he pulled up beside the Gardskagi lighthouse. Beyond it, foaming white breakers were crashing onto the rocks and they could hear the booming as the waves rolled up the shore.

‘Is everything all right?’ asked Erlendur warily, once he had switched off the engine.

‘I should never have gotten involved,’ said Caroline.

‘With what?’

‘Your case – what do you think? I should have left well alone.’

‘What’s going on?’

‘The shit’s hit the fan, that’s what,’ said Caroline, twisting in her seat to look through the back windscreen in case they’d been followed. She’d done this several times on the way. ‘I have a friend in Military Intelligence in Washington,’ she explained. ‘I called him up because he’s an old boyfriend of mine and I trust him, and anyhow I didn’t think the information I was requesting was anything special. But he got real jumpy and started demanding to know why I was calling him from Iceland to ask about an airline called Northern Cargo Transport. He wanted to know where I’d come across the name, why I was asking about it, what I intended to do with the information and whether my superior officers knew about my enquiries. My superior officers! And he’s my friend! I asked if he was going to report me. That stopped him in his tracks.’

‘Did he know right away what you were talking about?’ asked Erlendur.

‘Right away. He’s quite high up and he’s told me before that he has access to all kinds of information. He wanted to know if I was in the office and when I said I was, he told me to go home. Took my number and said he’d call me there. See what I mean? It’s that kind of situation. We had to change phones. He’s worried about wiretapping and all I did was mention the name of that airline.’

‘Did you call him at work?’

‘No, at home. He was about to go to the office.’

‘Did he call back?’

Caroline nodded and adjusted the rear-view mirror so she could see out of the back.

‘When he arrived at the office. I told him that –’

‘Hang on a minute, do you think you might actually be in some kind of danger?’ asked Erlendur.

‘I don’t know. He told me to watch my back and steer clear of you guys. To forget about Northern Cargo Transport and all that crap.’

‘Your boyfriend?’

‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ said Caroline. ‘He’s my ex. Try to keep up.’

‘Who’s supposed to be following you?’

‘I’ve been real careful. I didn’t tell anyone I’m helping you except my friend in Washington this morning. Not even my superior officer. My friend told me to keep it that way and to stop helping you right now. And that all phones are risky. I didn’t know that. I took mine apart – couldn’t find anything but that’s not saying much because I don’t even know what I’m looking for. I’m not sure about my work phone. Haven’t checked that yet. But you have to stop calling me. We can’t talk on the phone any more.’

‘What did you tell your man in Washington?’

‘I told him an Icelandic civilian had been killed, most likely murdered, and that you believe it happened in one of our hangars. I told him the man was a flight mechanic with temporary access to Hangar 885 where the Icelandic airline’s permitted to use the facilities from time to time. That he’d serviced a C-130 Hercules for a company called Northern Cargo Transport and discovered that it was carrying artillery. And that he found it kind of strange that a civilian operator should be involved in arms shipments so he started asking around about the company, and that you guys believe this might have cost him his life. That he’d been pushed off a platform in the hangar and afterward his body had been taken off base and dumped in a lava field.’

‘And what did he say?’

‘He asked me how the hell I’d gotten dragged into this,’ said Caroline. ‘I told him I was ordered to assist you and that you’d asked me to run a few checks to save you the time and paperwork and avoid unnecessary political hassle or however it was you sold it to me. He said you were just using me and that I shouldn’t be doing this and must stop at once.’

‘Did he imply you’d lose your job?’

‘I guess so. Or worse. Actually I think he was talking more like treason and court martial and all that shit.’

‘But you managed to persuade him to help you in spite of that?’

‘Yes, in the end. We
…
let’s just say he decided to do me a favour.’

‘What about Northern Cargo Transport? What did he say about that?’

‘He said it was run by the CIA.’

‘Did you say CIA?’

‘You heard me.’

‘Of course, that explains it,’ said Erlendur.

‘What? What does it explain?’

‘The company uses the same call sign as the American air force when they land at Keflavík,’ said Erlendur, remembering the conversation with Kristvin’s boss, Engilbert. ‘Their planes land here under cover of the army. When they enter Icelandic airspace they’re not distinguished in any way from the military jets. That’s how they slip in and out of the country unseen.’

‘That’s exactly what my friend said. How did you know?’

‘I gather that Icelandic air traffic control has noticed. But I don’t think they realise the CIA are using the company as a front to fly in here under military call signs. They’d be bound to comment on that. Especially if a civilian airline’s being sheltered by the military.’

‘Yeah, they would, right?’

‘Though I can’t be certain,’ said Erlendur, a little shamefaced. ‘Our relationship with the army is a bit unusual, as we’ve been trying to explain. It’s all tied up with money and Cold War politics and the fight for independence, and everyone’s at each other’s throats.’

Caroline gazed at the surf by the lighthouse, listening to the boom and hiss as the waves rolled ashore, then were sucked back out again. She wound down the window to hear better as they rose and fell as rhythmically as if the sea were breathing. She seemed much calmer now and had stopped checking the rear-view mirror.

‘But that’s the least of it,’ she said at last.

‘What?’

‘I heard some news about the Hercules that landed here in transit two weeks ago,’ said Caroline. ‘I found out that three men boarded the plane and travelled on to Greenland. After we … parted yesterday, I tried to find out what was going on, the little information that exists. Called up a couple people I know. Tried not to seem too interested. Said I’d received a request about a package for the States that was supposed to go by military transport.’