The Silence of the Sea (19 page)

Thóra thanked him and said goodbye, satisfied even though she was none the wiser.

Although the police were very understanding, Thóra had a tough time persuading them to answer any of her questions. She supposed they would need to double-check what information could be released to her. But at least the officers she spoke to seemed to appreciate the gravity of the situation and were keen to make things easy for her out of sympathy for Ægir’s parents and their little granddaughter. Admittedly, eyebrows were raised when she mentioned the life insurance policies, especially when it came to revealing the level of cover. She could have kept quiet about it, but that wouldn’t have been in her clients’ long-term interests. She persisted for a while in trying to find out whether the body recovered from the sea had any connection to the yacht, but gave up when she realised the police’s patience was wearing thin.

‘I appreciate that you can’t hand over the papers today, but would you be able to give me an idea of what there is? I’m particularly interested to know if the ship’s documents were on board and, if so, which ones?’ She decided to mention a few essential items but avoid listing them in detail in case she left something out. ‘I’m particularly interested in the official logbook, any other logbooks and any certificates of seaworthiness. As well as any compliance certificates connected to the yacht’s safety equipment.’

‘That I can tell you.’ The detective to whom she had finally been passed unwrapped a piece of chewing gum and put it in his mouth. ‘I’d offer you some if it wasn’t nicotine gum. I’ve just given up smoking. Apparently you just get addicted to this stuff instead but it’s not as bad for you as cigarettes, or so they claim.’ From his expression it would obviously be some time before he became reconciled to the flavour. ‘Most of the ship’s papers were on board and we should be able to release copies to you shortly. Just bear in mind that there are a few pages missing here and there, so the versions you receive will be incomplete.’

‘Pages missing?’ The ship’s documents were official papers that the vessel was required to carry by law. Removing material from them would be highly irregular. ‘Were they the ones relating to the Iceland trip?’

‘Yes, in all likelihood. Though there’s no way of telling when they were torn out; it may have happened before the captain took over, in which case they wouldn’t have included his notes. The problem is, we don’t know when the captain disappeared. There are a few entries from the beginning of the voyage, but it looks as if some of the older ones – if that’s what they were – have been ripped out. At any rate, the pages haven’t turned up. There’s no telling whether it’s significant, but it certainly looks odd.’

Thóra noted this down. ‘Next, have you had a chance to examine any cameras or phones? It would help my report if I could establish when the passengers were indisputably still alive.’

‘No.’ The detective kept chomping at the gum, his jaw muscles bunching.

‘Do you have any idea when you might have a chance to look into it?’

‘Never.’

‘Never?’ Thóra was taken aback.

‘That’s right.’ His facial muscles relaxed as he shifted the gum to lodge under his upper lip. ‘There were no mobile phones or cameras on board.’

‘Isn’t that a bit odd?’

‘I don’t know. They probably took all that stuff with them when they abandoned ship, or didn’t bring any along in the first place – though I admit that’s unlikely.’

‘Very.’ Thóra hastily scribbled ‘phone’ and ‘camera’ in her notebook, followed by three question marks. Ægir and Lára had included their mobile numbers on the list they gave his parents, so they must have intended to take them. And Lára had rung them from on deck, hadn’t she, as they were leaving port? So they could hardly have forgotten them in the hotel, or anywhere else in Lisbon. The crew must have had theirs with them too – there was hardly anyone under seventy who didn’t own a mobile phone these days. It was more than a little suspicious. ‘Another thing that would be helpful, if it’s available, would be the data from the yacht’s GPS system. Though I can’t work out what format I could access it in.’

‘We’ve already plotted their course using the GPS data. If we’re permitted to release this to you, it would probably make sense to give you a printout of the maps. That would save you the effort of duplicating our work.’

‘That would be great. Then there’s one further matter and after that I promise not to bother you any more for the time being. Do you have a summary of the yacht’s communications with shore or other vessels after she left port, including the dates and times? If I don’t submit exhaustive records, I’m afraid the insurance company will take advantage of the fact to delay proceedings.’

‘Hmm. Good question.’ He pushed his tongue under his lip to reassure himself that the gum was still there. ‘That’s a bit of a funny one too, actually.’

‘Oh?’ Thóra’s first thought was that the yacht’s communications system must be missing. Nothing about this case was quite as it ought to be.

‘Either the radiotelephones broke down or gremlins got into them during the voyage. Or so we gather from what the captain wrote in the logbook. The satellite phone wasn’t working either, though according to the captain’s notes that was because they hadn’t set up an account for the trip. We’re in the process of examining both radios but we do know they were working when the yacht left port. At least, the captain ticked the box stating that they had been tested and were in working order. What hasn’t yet emerged is whether they were sabotaged or it was simply coincidence that both broke down.’

‘Don’t they have two radios precisely to avoid that kind of communications breakdown?’

‘Possibly, but I gather they also have different ranges. The short-range radio or VHF can only communicate with nearby ships but there is also a long-range one, although I’m not really clued-up on the technology. At any rate, they managed to make contact at least once. The connection was poor so the message was a bit garbled, but about thirty hours out of port the captain spoke to a mate on a British freighter. The conversation took place in English, so there may have been a misunderstanding due to language difficulties, but we aren’t ruling out the possibility that the message was correct.’

‘What was it exactly?’ Thóra resisted the urge to cross her fingers.

The detective dislodged the gum from under his lip and began to chew with renewed vigour. ‘The captain asked the British ship to report the discovery of a body on board to the Icelandic authorities because their own long-range radio was broken and their satellite phone was out of action. From what the English mate could understand, the body was female. Their conversation touched on some other matters too, which I’m not presently able to divulge. Going by what was said, it seems unlikely the woman was Lára, though we can’t completely rule it out. And whoever it was, we have absolutely no idea how she died.’ The policeman stopped chewing and regarded Thóra levelly. ‘In other words, since we’ve found no trace of the dead woman, we may be dealing with not seven but eight missing people.’

‘It’ll have to wait till morning.’ Thráinn hauled himself back on deck after leaning so perilously far over the rail that Ægir moved instinctively closer to grab him if he fell. ‘I can’t get a good enough view. It looks like it’s that sodding container, or at least part of it. You should have called me sooner, Loftur. When there’s debris like that in the sea you’re lucky if it shows up on the radar, as you should know. We might have been able to avoid the collision if we’d spotted it at the point when it became visible. This isn’t what we need right now.’

‘It was too late.’ Loftur looked shamefaced. ‘We hit it almost immediately after the radar picked it up. I was keeping an eye out but then he came in and distracted me.’ He indicated Ægir, his expression distinctly unfriendly.

‘Don’t try and blame it on him.’ Thráinn wiped his hands on his trousers.

Ægir ignored them, not wanting to create trouble between the two men. The outcome was inevitable; sooner or later they would make up and then they would both resent him even more than they did before. He bent over the rail and peered into the gloom below, where he could see the gleam of water but little else. ‘Won’t it have drifted free by morning?’

‘Maybe. That would be the best outcome.’ Thráinn turned to Loftur. ‘I think we should let her drift tonight rather than trying to hold our position. But Halli had better keep watch with me in case there’s any more wreckage about. You go to bed and we’ll take it in turns to keep an eye on the bugger and see if we can get any sense out of the VHF. The transmission you heard was probably someone repeating a warning about the container.’ He looked over the side again. ‘With any luck it’ll break away during the night; if not, we’ll sort it out by daylight.’

Loftur nodded, still looking sullen. The moment they spotted the container he had sent Ægir to wake the captain. The thud when they struck it had not been loud, nor had it noticeably checked the vessel’s progress, but Loftur was alarmed and insisted on putting the engines in neutral until Thráinn had assessed the situation. The captain had taken it seriously too, which did nothing to reassure Ægir. If Thráinn was worried, there was every reason to be afraid: he didn’t seem the type to make a fuss about nothing.

‘If we’re just going to idle, I could take the watch with you.’ Ægir let go of the rail and instinctively stood up straighter. ‘Wouldn’t that make more sense? Loftur and Halli need their sleep and this may be the only time on this trip that you can trust me with a night watch.’ The two men said nothing; their expressions were hard to read. ‘If it turns out that you do need to sort it out tomorrow, wouldn’t the sleep do them good? We can always wake them if anything happens.’ Still neither man broke the silence. Loftur was apparently waiting for Thráinn to come to a decision, but it was unclear whether he hoped the captain would choose Ægir over Halli, or vice versa.

A wave drove the flotsam against the side and another low boom broke the silence. Ægir couldn’t help wondering how strong the hull was and how many blows of that magnitude it could withstand. Perhaps his idea of taking the watch was foolish; if the yacht was holed his presence on the bridge would be worse than useless. Even as these reservations occurred to him, Thráinn accepted his offer with a decisive nod. ‘If anything goes wrong, Loftur, we’ll wake you or Halli. With any luck the current will carry it away and solve the problem for us, so there’s no need to have two men on watch. It’s probably an unnecessary precaution, but you never know when it comes to junk like this.’

‘No problem.’ It wouldn’t be the first time Ægir had stayed up all night. ‘I’ll just nip below and fetch my book.’

Lára was asleep in the cabin with the duvet bunched up around her. Her breathing was heavy and her eyelids flickered as if in a dream. Ægir perched gently on the side of the bed and whispered that he would be on the bridge for the rest of the night. She murmured something incomprehensible and turned over. He doubted she had taken in the message and wondered if he should wake her, but then she might not be able to get back to sleep and would lie awake for the rest of the night. On his way out he stuck his head into the girls’ cabin and saw that they were lying oddly entwined in the middle of the double bed. Sigga Dögg beamed at him from the headboard as if to reassure him that everything would be all right; she would watch over her twin sisters while he did the same for the yacht.

He closed the door, plunging their cabin back into darkness.

Ægir hesitated and considered opening the door again, either to turn on the light or at least to leave it open a crack so that the blackness would not be so profound. But neither was a good idea. If he turned on the light, the girls might wake up, and the constant motion of the yacht would make the door bang if he left it open. After a brief pause he set off down the corridor, only to stop by the door at the end. Everything looked as it should; the ceiling lights glowed dimly and all the doors were closed. They fitted so tightly that not a sound could be heard from the cabins and even the drone of the engines seemed more muffled down here than in any other part of the yacht. Even so, Ægir couldn’t rid himself of the unsettling feeling that he was abandoning them somehow. Perhaps it was instinct warning him to make the most of every second he could spend with them while they were on board this boat. As if the future was measured in minutes, not years.

Thráinn was waiting for him in the pilot house. His back was turned and Ægir had the impression that he had been speaking into the radiotelephone but was now trying to hide the fact. ‘Was there another message?’

‘What?’ Thráinn frowned as if he didn’t understand the question. Then realising what Ægir was referring to, he said: ‘You mean on the VHF? Oh, no.’ He ran a hand lightly over the screen. ‘It seems to be buggered – at least, I’m having trouble getting through. It’s a pain in the arse that the long-range radio’s playing up as well. I expect what you heard before was the result of a short circuit. Maybe a fuse has blown and affected both radios. On the plus side, it means you won’t have to worry about them. You won’t hear a peep out of them, not until I’ve given them the once-over tomorrow with the boys. The problem’s too complicated for me to fix tonight.’

‘I won’t mind that.’ Ægir stared at the VHF, fervently hoping the captain was right; the last thing he wanted to hear when he was alone was that sinister voice echoing through the bridge. The captain’s explanation struck him as a little odd, though; how could a short circuit cause the ship’s name to be transmitted over the loudspeaker? But the man must know what he was talking about. Ægir couldn’t afford to start doubting his expertise at this stage.

He watched as the captain checked the screens, and wondered about the man. He still hadn’t come to any conclusion about his character; one minute he was friendly, the next gruff. Even his age was hard to guess. His appearance offered only vague, contradictory clues; thick, dark hair contrasted with a lined or weather-beaten face, and his powerful frame made his height even more striking; Ægir only reached up to his ears. His arms were tanned a dark brown and the back of his right hand was criss-crossed by a network of mysterious white scars. Perhaps they were an accumulation of many different small cuts. Ægir was too ignorant about life at sea to know whether they went with the territory. As he stood beside this big, strong man it occurred to him how sheltered his own life had been – how different from the life of a sailor. Every morning he went to the office where the greatest peril he faced was paper cuts, while this man wrestled with unpredictable currents and ferocious storms. There must have been times when he doubted he would make it home alive. Nothing like that had ever happened to Ægir in his line of work. He cleared his throat. ‘Do you want me to start outside or inside?’