The Day is Dark (3 page)

‘Yes,’ said Matthew. ‘I’d like to send you the construction contract and the details of the performance bond if you’re interested, but I hope you understand that I can’t do so unless you’ve accepted the project.’

Thóra thought it over for a moment. ‘Am I to understand that the work is being done overseas?’ She was quite prepared to get out of Iceland for a few days. The winter had been the hardest she could remember for a while, and although it was March it was still one storm after another.

‘Yes, you would have to go abroad,’ he said, without elaborating.

The tone of his voice suggested someplace rather unexciting. She was fairly sure there were no Icelandic contractors working in Gaza, Iraq, Afghanistan or any other war zone, so it couldn’t be too bad. ‘What type of work is this precisely, and where?’ she asked, crossing her fingers in the hope that it involved building a hotel in the Caribbean. She had a great bikini that she hadn’t had the chance to saunter around in since God knows when, and it was conceivable that the mining company wanted to branch out and try its luck in the tourist industry.

‘They’re doing preliminary studies and constructing infrastructure facilities on behalf of Arctic Mining for a mining operation in Greenland. Berg Technology made the lowest bid for the project and has had workers there for nearly a year. Until now everything has gone without a hitch, though the results haven’t been exemplary. But now something has happened to unsettle the workers.’

Thóra’s mind had begun to wander when she heard the name. Greenland. One of the few countries that was colder and more unbearable at this time of year than Iceland. Her bikini would be of no use if she took this job – what she’d need would be sealskin trousers. She swallowed her disappointment. ‘Are the workers in Greenland?’

‘No, they’re in Iceland. All but two people who are probably still on site. The others came home during their allotted leave, but now refuse to return.’

‘What do you mean when you say that the two who remained behind are
probably
still on site?’

‘Nothing’s been heard from them for around ten days, and they can’t get hold of anyone there to go and find out what’s happening. It’s possible that the camp’s communication system has simply failed, but apparently the only way to find out is to go there. If a logical explanation is found for their silence, it’s conceivable that the other employees can be persuaded to return. That of course would be the best solution for the bank.’

‘Could something have happened to them? Could they have been trapped outside, or something along those lines?’

‘That’s one possible explanation,’ said Matthew. ‘It’s happened before. About six months ago a geologist there disappeared from the camp, a young woman, now presumed dead. She was never found, but it’s most likely that she got lost in a storm and froze to death.’

‘She was out taking a walk in a
snowstorm
?’

‘Nobody knows,’ he replied. ‘She disappeared, so she could have committed suicide. People tend to get depressed in that kind of isolation.’ Thóra was silent, not knowing how to respond. Matthew was quick to add: ‘That incident has nothing to do with your task, nor with the disappearance of the two others. In the best-case scenario, they’re still alive; the camp’s transmitter has failed and they simply haven’t been able to get it working again. Other explanations for their fate are rather more gloomy: the weather there has been like it’s been here recently, only worse. They wouldn’t have been able to survive it if they were anywhere but indoors. In any case, things have become serious, both with regard to these men and to the interests of Berg Technology – and, by association, the bank.’

‘Isn’t it simpler to call on a Greenlandic emergency rescue team, or the police there?’ she asked. ‘This all sounds rather frightening, and if something
has
happened, it’ll be up to law enforcement there to investigate it.’

‘The site is in the wilderness on the east coast. Of course there’s a small village nearby, but it doesn’t have a regular police force, and the locals can’t be persuaded to go and investigate either for us or for Arctic Mining. If the men have suffered food poisoning or become ill in some other way, every day makes a difference and we can’t waste any time trying to get the Greenlanders to help.’

‘I’m not going to be of much help if this is about a disease,’ said Thóra. ‘And I’m not sure I want to go if I’m going to find people who are seriously ill – or even dying.’

‘You wouldn’t be going alone,’ said Matthew. ‘A doctor has already joined the team, as well as a highly experienced rescuer and a former employee of Berg Technology who knows her way around the place. The team will also include an information systems technician, to get the connection working again.’ He paused. ‘And me.’

‘Ahh,’ said Thóra. That was certainly a plus. The location was a minus, at least in winter. ‘When is the team leaving, and for how long?’ Judging by the number of people involved, this would be no overnight camping trip.

‘We’re scheduled to leave tomorrow morning,’ he told her. ‘The forecast is favourable – for once. We aim to be there for as short a time as possible, but that’ll become clearer when we get there. The weather will have a lot to do with it, of course.’

‘Where would we be staying?’ she asked, suspecting she knew what the answer would be. It was unlikely that a five-star hotel of the kind you might see in the Caribbean was to be found in those parts.

Matthew cleared his throat. ‘At the work camp. If it’s considered safe. If not, then we have to negotiate with the villagers for accommodation.’

Thóra looked at her computer screen and the boring document glowing back at her. She’d just been offered a little adventure, barely five minutes after she’d mentally complained about her unexciting work. She could easily leave the office for several days if the young lawyers took up the slack. They’d just have to spend less time on the Internet during her absence. ‘I’ll go with you,’ she said, but hurriedly added: ‘Actually, I need to see about getting Hannes or my mother to look after the kids before I can give you a definite answer, but I don’t expect it to be a problem.’

‘Fantastic,’ said Matthew, and the satisfaction in his voice was plain to hear. ‘We can get it all arranged if you drop in here and speak to the person responsible. You’ll be well paid for it, that I can guarantee.’

‘Why aren’t any of your lawyers going?’ asked Thóra.

‘Their hands are full at the moment, and anyway they’re not that interested. It doesn’t suit them. You, on the other hand, are perfect for the job.’

Thóra couldn’t understand why. She was no good at skiing or hiking, and didn’t care much for outdoor activities beyond short walks in good weather. However, the reason was irrelevant. Matthew saw the world differently to her, and as close as they were, he might very well be under the impression that Thóra dreamed of being the first grandma under forty to reach the North Pole with a grandchild in her arms, for all she knew. ‘Those men,’ she said, adding what was pressing most heavily on her mind: ‘Do you think they’re dead?’

Matthew inhaled sharply. ‘One of them has probably died, but hopefully not both.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Thóra, startled. It was unlike Matthew to be so vague.

‘One of the employees of Berg Technology here in Iceland made repeated attempts to gain remote access to the system and seems to have got in, although attempts by others since then haven’t produced any result. So there was a computer connection for a time, even though it was patchy, but now it appears to have been lost for good. In any case, the man managed to look up the latest files and among them he found a particularly interesting one that was created after the rest of the group left the site. The man saved it and then sent it to others in the group, and it seems the e-mail is the main reason why the staff refuse to return.’

‘What did this file contain, then?’ asked Thóra.

‘Everything in it suggests that one of the men is alive, or at least that someone is still at the work site. It’s what caused the matter to be put on highest priority.’

‘What was in the file?’ insisted Thóra.

‘I’ll just send it to you. Some of it is actually impossible to put into words,’ he said. ‘Are you sure you want to see it? I’m warning you, the contents are not for the faint-hearted.’

Naturally Thóra had to see the file, and as quickly as possible. They said goodbye and hung up, and she waited impatiently for the e-mail and clicked on it immediately when it appeared. The attachment was a wmp. file, its name made up of an indecipherable sequence of numbers. The numbers could not refer to the date, and must have been made up by the video camera itself. Thóra right-clicked on the file and saw that it had been created four days ago, just before midnight on 13 March. She couldn’t determine whether this information had been added by the camera, or the computer onto which the file had been transferred. A wrongly set clock or different time zone could of course have confused this information. She shut the window and opened the attachment itself.

Chapter 2

18 March 2008

The video was short but powerful. It took Thóra a few moments to figure out what was being filmed; the quality was poor and the image appeared in an impractically small window on the screen. When Thóra tried to enlarge it the image became grainy and even less distinguishable as a result. The sound was also of rather poor quality, characterized by a continual low buzz. It would have been little problem for the characters in an episode of
CSI
to clean it up, but since the legal firm had no research lab at its disposal Thóra had to make do with the unclear sound. That was unfortunate, because it was what could be heard through the buzzing that affected her most. The clip was shot indoors, but it was difficult to determine in what sort of building the camera’s operator was located, since his or her hands were extremely unsteady. Thóra caught a glimpse of a bookshelf and chair at the start of the clip, but then the camera was pointed almost immediately down towards the speckled linoleum. That was pretty much the perspective until the end of the clip. Apart from the linoleum, nothing else could be seen but two feet and legs up to the knees. The owner of the legs was lying or sitting on the floor, which in itself was peculiar. Whoever it was also appeared to be completely immobile, which made the scene even stranger. Thóra hadn’t seen anyone lying so still since her days of going out on the town when she was younger. Sometimes a guest or two at a late-night post-club party would be lying in the same position, but judging by the footwear this hadn’t been any sort of party. The feet were in thick, probably woollen, socks and open slippers that had never been and would never be in style; hardly appropriate for a social get-together. The person in the video sat or lay flat on the floor in jeans, his or her legs splayed in either direction. Thóra had the feeling that it was a man, without being able to explain why, since it was impossible to determine the size of the feet or shoes.

In the three minutes and twenty-two seconds that the video played, the legs jerked weirdly four times. Just before each time a whistling sound momentarily rose above the buzzing, ending with a muffled thud. Then the legs would jerk, and a dark liquid sprayed across the middle of the frame. Over the years Thóra had found herself forced to watch numerous horror films with her son Gylfi, which is probably why she imagined the worst possible scenario. To her it seemed as if a body were being dismembered, or someone was being killed with an axe or a heavy club. But it couldn’t be the latter, since there was no screaming or any other sound of anguish. There was only the whistling, a thump – and what sounded like the strange crooning of a child. Thóra could distinguish a melody, but could make nothing of the words. Either the child was babbling nonsense or its language was totally alien to her. She reached for her phone and rang Bragi’s extension. ‘Come here for a second,’ she said, squinting as she watched the video for the third time. ‘I need to get your opinion on something.’ She stopped the video and leaned back in her chair, thinking it over. It had clearly been a mistake to say that she would go along, even though she could always change her mind. She looked askance at the paperwork on her desk and glanced at the documents for the name-change case at the top of a thick stack of other papers. She looked back at the computer screen. Judging from the video, this Greenlandic case would certainly be different.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Bragi curiously as he appeared in the doorway. He was a large man with a teddy bear-ish manner who wore his age well. He was wearing a dark suit with a tie, since he was one of the generation of lawyers who thought it brought shame to the profession to dress in comfortable clothes. His orthodoxy, however, was not strong enough to prevent him from loosening the knot of his tie and leaving the top button of his shirt undone, which slightly diminished his respectability.

‘Take a look at this,’ said Thóra, pointing to the screen. ‘And tell me what you think is going on there.’ She started the video and pushed the desk chair aside to allow him to come closer for a better view. Bragi enjoyed anything strange, so this should be right up his alley. She waited until it was over and the peculiar chanting had stopped. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘let’s hear it.’

Bragi’s eyes flashed. ‘If this is related to a divorce, then I have dibs on the case, as the kids say.’ He fumbled for the mouse to replay the video. ‘This is great.’

Thóra interrupted him and told him the basics about Matthew’s offer and the origin of the video. She watched his smile fade as he realized this probably had nothing to do with a marriage at death’s door. ‘But what do you think this is?’ she asked.

‘Best case scenario, assault. Worst, murder,’ replied Bragi, making no attempt to hide his disappointment that this wasn’t a divorce case.

‘That’s what I thought,’ said Thóra, exhaling. ‘I don’t know, maybe I should pull out of this one. It’s more than a little bit strange, and much more serious than a loss of insurance money.’