Sun on Fire (7 page)

“Exactly,” Gunnar said. “But instead the witnesses scatter in all directions and get plenty of time to synchronize their stories. The killer is at large and capable of doing anything.”

“That’s right,” Fischer said, nodding.

16:00

Birkir and Anna were eating their sandwiches in an office on the second floor when Konrad arrived at the embassy. The ambassador was a shortish, stout man with thin, gray hair, combed straight back and smoothed down with gel. He had a slight limp, taking noticeably shorter steps with his right foot.

“Guten appetit,”
he said, and waved Birkir away when the latter started to put down his sandwich in order to greet him. “Don’t let me interrupt your meal,” he said with a weary smile and sat down in an unoccupied chair.

While he finished his snack, Birkir studied the ambassador. He’d seen his type before. Here was a man suffering the consequences of excessive alcohol the night before, who was so used to this malaise that it was more or less natural to him. His face was puffed and etched with deep wrinkles. Though his eyes were clear and awake, they were bloodshot, with bags under them.

Birkir’s cell phone rang. It was Gunnar, telling him about the commissar’s offer to help with the forensics. Anna was hugely relieved to hear this. She had been anticipating many days’ work alone in the building. When Birkir explained to him that otherwise the office would be closed for several days, the ambassador also voiced his approval.

Anna put down her half-eaten sandwich and went out for a cigarette. Birkir took a recorder from his pocket and looked at the ambassador. “Do you mind if I tape our conversation on this?” he asked. “It’s important for me to get all the details straight.”

“Of course that’s OK,” the ambassador said.

“Tell me about Sunday,” Birkir said, after dictating the usual preliminaries about place, time, and persons present.

“Where should I start?”

“When did you arrive at the embassy that day? What was the occasion?”

“I arrived at the Felleshus around two thirty. The reading of works by my friend Jón—the Sun Poet—was scheduled for three o’clock in the main auditorium. A translation of his poetry anthology was recently published in Germany, and he’s here to promote it.”

“Was this event only for an invited audience?”

“No, not at all. The reading was open to the public, and had been promoted in the cultural sections of some of the local newspapers. Also in a group mail to Icelanders living in Berlin, and a number of German Icelandophiles. Then I specifically invited a few visiting Icelanders I know, and some folks also accompanied Jón, or were invited by him. Around sixty people in total. It began with a half-hour reading of the translations by a German actor. Then, after a short intermission, Jón himself read the Icelandic originals for another half hour or so.” Konrad grimaced. “A terribly tedious program, to be honest, but there are things you have to endure in this job. We diplomats need a strong bladder and high boredom threshold to survive.”

The ambassador briefly grinned, until he saw that Birkir was not amused. “During the intermission, I mingled with those I know among the group, and invited them to drinks after the readings. About thirty people, I guess. They waited with me outside the auditorium while the Sun Poet signed books, and then we went upstairs to the second floor, where there were light refreshments. Gradually people began to leave, and there were just eight of us left by six o’clock, which marked the end of the Felleshus
caterers’ scheduled time. I still had some personal things to discuss with some of the group, so I invited them over to the embassy building. You have the guest list, don’t you?”

Birkir nodded.

“Soon folks got hungry, so I ordered delivery from a Chinese restaurant, and we ate in the conference room.”

“Why didn’t you invite them over to your residence?”

Konrad smiled weakly. “Under normal circumstances I would have, but my in-laws are visiting me right now. I hate to say it, but they are so insufferably fussy that I couldn’t inflict them on my guests.”

“That bad?”

“It’s mainly that they don’t like being around folks who are drinking alcohol,” Konrad admitted. “And I can’t just send them to bed when we have guests.”

Birkir frowned. “But couldn’t you go to a restaurant?”

The ambassador patiently replied, “That would have been a good idea if it hadn’t been for my friend, the Sun Poet Jón Sváfnisson. He insists on reciting poetry to everybody, and often gets up on a chair or even a table to do so. I’ve twice been asked to leave a restaurant when dining with that fellow. No, it was a logical decision to use this room in the embassy for our dinner. All it should have involved was cleaning a single conference room afterward. We have people to take care of that sort of thing.”

“But you didn’t just stick to that part of the building, did you?”

“No. As I told you, I needed to meet privately with certain individuals in the group, which I did in my office on the fourth floor. I also went up to the third floor to fetch utensils and glasses from the kitchenette. And some people went to the restrooms on the upper floors when they found the nearest one occupied.”

“What were these meetings that you needed to have?”

“First of all there was Helgi Kárason, the pottery artist—and his exhibition manager, Lúdvík Bjarnason. They have booked some weeks in the Felleshus’s main gallery in the new year, and were checking it out. Our meeting was just a confirmation of the embassy participation in the exhibition, as my staff will be dealing with the practical issues. Counselor Arngrímur is in charge of that, and he should have attended this meeting, but, because of other duties, he was unable to.”

“Why was this meeting held on a Sunday?”

“It was a convenient arrangement, as they’d planned to attend the reading anyway. We scheduled our meeting some time in advance.”

“What about the other meetings? Were they also planned ahead?”

“No. They were really just chats after the reception. I spoke with Jón and his companion about the Frankfurt Book Fair. They wanted me to go there and attend a reception to celebrate his anthology’s publication. They were probably hoping I’d offer to pay for the refreshments, too. And finally there was a brief meeting for me to introduce Anton to David, the fashion designer. Anton had some extremely good connections in Asia that have been very useful for our clothing manufacturers. He sources good quality and very cheap producers, which is valuable at this time, when capital is scarce everywhere. Starkadur, David’s partner, was also at our meeting.”

“Did Anton stay in your office?”

“I left the three of them there so they could exchange information, but they all came back downstairs shortly afterward. Anton ate with us. I don’t know when he went back upstairs—he asked me two or three times if he could use my office phone, and may have gone up more times than that. A new workday had started in
the part of the world where he’s got projects, I guess. The last time he went was probably a little while before we left the building.”

“So you don’t know who would have been the last person with him in your office?”

“No, damn it. I’ve gone over it again and again over the past twenty-four hours, but the picture doesn’t get any clearer.”

“How come you didn’t notice Anton was still in the building when you left the embassy?”

“One really shouldn’t speak ill of one’s wife, but—in confidence—my dear Hulda kind of made herself the center of attention when she joined us. She sometimes gets goddamned cranky with me for wanting to enjoy myself in good company. When it was time for the guests to leave, I had security call three taxis. I thought Anton went in the first cab, and I wasn’t aware of anything unusual when my wife and I left the embassy—we were the last ones to go. I have a feeling somebody said that Anton had left, but I can’t remember who. Four of the guests were with us when Hulda and I checked out of the Felleshus.”

“Are you sure you don’t know who said that Anton had left? That could be really important.”

Konrad shook his head. “I know it’s important, but I’m not sure that anybody did mention it. Maybe I just thought I’d seen him leave with David and Starkadur.”

“And the security guards didn’t notice that one of the visitors was missing when you left?”

“No, but there was a reason. Jón was making a ruckus—he’d lost his guest pass, and I had to vouch for him so he could get his passport back. Then he offended the cab driver, and the security guard had to handle things because Hulda and I had already gone in the second cab. The head of security told me all this yesterday.”

“How did you know Anton?”

“He’s been a political supporter of mine for thirty years, and he’s a good buddy. His roots were in my constituency, and he was a useful ward heeler back in the day. Then he started up this foreign business, after which he was just a contributor to party funds. I sometimes introduced him to potential customers. Our friendship helped his credibility.”

“What was his business?”

“He was very familiar with the Asian scene. Early on he started going there to check out various kinds of factories. He was particularly good at finding manufacturers who could deliver high-quality but cost-effective products. Lots of entrepreneurs have used his services as a go-between.”

“Entrepreneurs?”

“Yes—hardworking innovators with good ideas. They can use a guy with good connections and who knows the culture. At one point there was talk of making Anton Icelandic ambassador to East Asia, but the minister demurred on account of some gossip.”

“Gossip?”

“It’s not something that I can repeat.”

“Did Anton have any family?”

“He was unmarried, and had no children.”

“Was he in this business by himself?”

“Yes, but he had an assistant who traveled with him.”

“So the assistant wasn’t with him here at the embassy on Sunday?”

“No. Anton came on his own—after the reading, in fact.”

“Have you heard from this assistant?”

“Yes, he contacted us yesterday when Anton didn’t show up at their hotel. Arngrímur informed him of Anton’s death and took the guy’s information. The man also agreed to wait for our
police to contact him at the hotel. Arngrímur has his name and cell phone number.”

“Who knew that Anton would be visiting here?”

“I have no idea. I only found out myself shortly before the reading, when he called to invite me out to dinner. He said he was in Berlin unexpectedly for one night and wanted to see me. I told him to come to the embassy, which he did.”

“So the killer must have had some other way of finding out that Anton was expected at the embassy?”

The ambassador hesitated. “Yes, if he actually did have that information in advance.”

“He must have known it, since he brought his weapon with him. He couldn’t have found the knife here in the building, could he?”

“No.” Konrad shook his head. “I understand it was some kind of hunting knife.”

“Which one of your guests is most likely to carry a knife like that?”

“I have no idea.”

“You’re certain you didn’t keep such a knife in your office desk?”

“Absolutely certain.”

16:50

Arngrímur, Gunnar, and Commissar Fischer met the German forensic team’s van outside the Felleshus. Arngrímur directed them to the basement parking lot’s entrance beneath the plaza, and opened it with a remote control. The van drove cautiously down the ramp, with the three of them following on foot. Arngrímur pointed out where the entrance to the Icelandic embassy was, at the far end of the basement. It was quicker to move the equipment this way than to carry it through the Felleshus and across the plaza. This was the same route taken when the body was removed from the crime scene twenty-four hours earlier.

Fischer said, “I assume the security people will have all the entrance systems here professionally tested.”

“I’ll look into that,” Arngrímur replied, opening the door to the embassy basement.

Four forensic specialists clad in white coveralls had climbed out of the van and were fishing out bags of equipment. In the meantime, Fischer was writing something in a notebook. Finally he tore the page from the book and handed it to Gunnar. “For form’s sake, here are the names of these four colleagues of mine,” he said.

Gunnar took the piece of paper and shook hands with the men. “Thank you for your help,” he said.

They all took the elevator up to the fourth floor, where Anna was waiting for them, also dressed in white coveralls.

“Hello,” she said, coughing.

Gunnar heard the youngest German whisper to his buddy, “He brought his grandma with him.”

Fischer evidently heard this, too, because he grabbed the guy’s arm and said quietly, “You better show these people some respect. They are your colleagues.”

The young man blushed. “Sorry, sir,” he whispered.

Gunnar introduced Anna to the team. “She will be overseeing your work and countersigning all samples. I’ll be available to do any necessary interpreting.”

Tobias Fischer turned to Gunnar and said, “Well, it looks like I’m finished here for the day. Please contact me if you need my help.”

He wrote a telephone number on a business card and gave it to Gunnar. “Here are all my details and also my personal cell phone number.”

“Thanks very much for all your help,” Gunnar said.

Fischer smiled. “Will you be doing anything here in Berlin other than working on this investigation?”

“Um, I’m going to go to the zoo.”

“The zoo? Any particular reason?”

“I’ve never seen an elephant.”

Fischer laughed. “I see. My daughter works at the aquarium there. I sometimes pick her up after work, so I happen to know that today is the last day of summer hours. It’s open till six thirty, so you may get there this evening, but you would only have time to see the elephant. Tomorrow, the zoo is open from nine to five thirty.”

Gunnar looked at his watch and said, “Then I’ll wait until tomorrow. But tonight I’m going to treat myself to a good Wiener schnitzel. Is there anyplace you recommend?”