The Silence of the Sea (31 page)

He ceased his tapping. ‘The postmortem revealed that the body had suffered frost damage.’

‘Frost damage?’ Thóra had to admit that in spite of what she had just said, she was nonplussed. ‘Did the temperature drop below freezing at any point during the voyage?’

He shook his head. ‘No. There was a storm but no really cold weather. A more likely explanation is that the body was stored in one of the freezers on board. But since we’ve found no traces of DNA or fibres from the tarpaulin, there may be some other explanation. Alternatively, the body may have been wrapped in plastic. Since I’ve told you this much, I may as well add that the woman’s body was apparently found in a freezer – if the captain’s message was understood correctly. But forensics can’t find any evidence of that either.’

Thóra would have given a great deal to see her own dumbfounded expression in a mirror. ‘I don’t know what to say. Nothing I’ve discovered has suggested anything like this.’ She longed for some sensible, concrete information. ‘Do you know when Halldór died?’

The detective shook his head again. ‘I’m afraid not. Most if not all of the methods used to establish time of death take account of conditions after the person has died. In this case the body seems to have been stored in a variety of environments, so we don’t have much to go on. It’s been submerged in the sea, kept in a freezer and maybe in a crate as well, so unfortunately the time of death is very imprecise. He could have died at any point on the voyage, though it’s obvious he can’t have been murdered after the yacht reached harbour. The postmortem showed too advanced a breakdown of various biological compounds that I’m not qualified to explain. So it can’t have been submerged there for long, at least not while the yacht was moving, or it would have been in a much worse state. In fact, it would be a miracle if it had still been there when the yacht reached the harbour.’

‘I’m afraid this is outside my area of expertise.’ Thóra was boiling by now and experiencing a desperate desire to fling off her coat.

‘Of course.’ He studied her as she sat there, her face scarlet, dreaming of the cold air outside. ‘Well. That just about wraps up what I have to say, so now I can get on with reprimanding the officers who conducted the original inspection. I try to do so at least once a day.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘It beggars belief that not one of them noticed the rope or realised it didn’t belong there. Of course, they should have taken along an experienced sailor or at least someone who was remotely acquainted with boats, but I don’t tell them that because I enjoy giving them a bollocking. It’s good for the circulation.’ He stood up and escorted Thóra to the door.

She drove up Skólavördustígur in a daze, then went into her office and sat there for a while deep in thought. Eventually, she leant over her desk and shouted: ‘Bella! Could you pop in here a minute?’ It was time to abandon all conventional approaches. Since common sense had proved nothing but a hindrance in this case, it was time for some muddled, left-field thinking, and when it came to that Bella was an expert.

Mother and daughters were deep in slumber in the big double bed. They lay cuddled up together, their hair mingling on the pillows so that Ægir couldn’t tell their locks apart. Their cheeks were flushed, not from fever but almost certainly because someone had finally turned up the heating to compensate for the onset of chillier weather. Ægir had no idea who had done so and, to be honest, he didn’t really care. Beside him lay his family, the only thing that mattered. Arna murmured but he couldn’t distinguish the words. Her eyes were quivering under their pale lids and her legs twitched. Then all was quiet again. He hoped she wasn’t having a nightmare. He and Lára had done their best to behave as if nothing was wrong, masking their fear and apprehension, but perhaps their manner had seemed too forced. Neither could bear the thought that the girls might sense the sudden seriousness of their situation. At least not yet. Soon, though, they would be forced to tell them exactly what was going on, to ensure the girls never left their side.

Ægir listened to the sound of footsteps overhead. He stared up at the ceiling as if he expected the man to start sawing through it at any minute, showering them with plaster. Although the cabin door was locked, the security it provided was illusory as a full-grown man could easily force his way in. Besides, they must keep a master key somewhere safe; perhaps on the bridge. If the man wanted to get in, he wouldn’t need to break the door down. But Ægir was not worried about this eventuality; he didn’t believe the man had the slightest interest in them – for the moment.

More than seven hours had passed since he had dragged Lára and the girls down to the cabin where they had locked themselves in. In all that time no one had so much as knocked on the door or called out, as if the crew had forgotten their existence. Which suited them fine. Even though it would mean going hungry, Ægir was almost prepared to lie low in their cabin until they reached port. The water in the bathroom taps would be sufficient for him, but he was less sure about the girls; they probably wouldn’t be willing to go without food for days on end. Besides, he would have to put in an appearance at some point, not to appease his daughters’ complaints so much as to prevent the crew from wondering what was up. If they did, someone was bound to put two and two together and conclude that the family knew more than they were letting on. It would be pathetically easy for that person to finish them off here in the cabin, especially when they were defenceless in sleep.

The footsteps ceased and Ægir felt the adrenaline start to course through his veins. When the man stood still it was even worse than when he was pacing. It suggested that he was plotting. Ægir knew the idea was ludicrous but that didn’t change how he felt. He even held his breath while he waited for the man to start moving again. Nothing happened. Then there was a scraping sound from what he took to be a chair or sofa, and he tried to work out which room was directly overhead. Most likely the saloon, which suggested that there were two men up and about, one on the bridge, the other busy with something in the saloon. Ægir sat up and pushed the duvet aside gently so as not to wake his wife and daughters. It might make sense to go out and talk to the men; then the family wouldn’t have to show their faces again until lunchtime tomorrow. Their absence must appear as natural as possible; for example, he could go up at regular intervals to complain that the girls were seasick. That way he would be able to fetch the necessities – as long as he disciplined himself to appear relaxed, as if nothing had happened, as if it hadn’t occurred to them that one of the men must be linked to the dead woman in the freezer. Although such naivety would seem pretty far-fetched in the light of recent events, it would have to suffice. If he betrayed the slightest fear, there was a danger he would do or say something with irreversible consequences.

He climbed out of bed and balanced for a moment to accustom himself to the motion. About an hour after they had locked themselves in, the engines had abruptly kicked into life again. Perhaps the crew had managed to free the yacht from the container, or the captain had simply decided to chance it before the situation on board deteriorated even further. There was no question now of hanging around in the middle of nowhere, waiting for rescue: with their communications system crippled, they couldn’t even send out a distress signal, and it was so long since they had seen another ship that Ægir believed, admittedly without good grounds, that they might wait there for weeks without being spotted. Then he remembered the emergency button Thráinn had shown him, which was designed to transmit an SOS with their location. Thanks to that, their fate was unlikely to consist of drifting over the ocean for the rest of their days. Perhaps he should simply go up to the bridge and activate the button right now, and take the gamble that the foreign crew who responded to their call would believe him. But supposing they weren’t convinced and refused to take the family on board? In that case it would be better not to chance it. If things got any worse, at least there was security in knowing the button was there.

Ægir scribbled a quick note to Lára, explaining where he was going and stressing that neither she nor the girls should come looking for him. Then he slipped on his shoes and quietly left the cabin. As he was closing the door, he wondered if he ought to wake his wife. She and the girls had been sleeping for over two hours and might find it hard to drop off tonight if they slept for much longer now. Their eyelids had begun to droop during the second film and Ægir alone had managed to stay awake. He would have liked to have followed suit but felt compelled to stay on guard in case one of the crew tried to enter the cabin. How he was to make it through the night was another matter; clearly, he couldn’t stay awake for days on end and even if he did, he would be of little use exhausted if it came to a fight. Lára would have to share the watches with him, so it would be better to allow her some more sleep now. The incident with Karítas’s perfume bottle had shaken her badly. When she had gone to fetch it in order to convince him that the smell was the same as the one in the freezer, the bottle had gone. What’s more, it was nowhere to be found in their cabin or bathroom, and Lára had started imagining all kinds of conspiracies. Ægir, on the other hand, had signally failed to work up any concern. He had other, more pressing matters on his mind than missing perfume bottles. As he closed the door, he took care not to click the lock too loudly.

On his way upstairs he found himself keenly aware of every step. Until now his body had moved about the ship on autopilot, but now he sensed the gleaming wood under his soles and was acutely conscious of lifting his feet. For the first time he noticed the handrail, cold and hard under his palm. The sounds that carried from above also seemed more distinct than before, though none were particularly loud or penetrating: a squeak, a low humming which, though his ears had not picked it up until now, had no doubt been there since the beginning of the voyage; the scraping of a chair. This sudden hypersensitivity must result from a primitive urge to protect his family, for he quickly realised that his taut nerves were not for himself; all that mattered now was to bring his wife and daughters safely home. The realisation gave him courage and he walked up the stairs full of a new self-confidence. The man who was not afraid for himself had a definite advantage.

He decided to check the pilot house first. There he would at least learn what progress they were making and what the weather forecast had in store. Despite hoping fervently that the crew would have found some means of repairing the telecommunications system, he knew this was unlikely. It was a safe bet that whoever had thrown the body overboard had also sabotaged the equipment. It would have been too great a coincidence otherwise. And that was a bad sign. How was the perpetrator intending to enforce their silence after they reached land? There was only one sure method that Ægir could think of.

Thráinn turned out to be alone on the bridge. He sat in the pilot’s chair, staring into space as if in a trance. Ægir had to cough to attract his attention. The older man looked round, his eyes bloodshot. There was no sign that he had gone for a rest after lunch, which meant that he must have been awake for thirty-six hours straight. ‘Hello. I’d begun to think you lot weren’t going to show your faces again.’ Thráinn stretched and rubbed his jaw as if to loosen it up for conversation.

‘Lára and the girls are a bit under the weather. Seasick again.’

‘Right.’ Thráinn was not deceived. ‘Let’s hope they feel better soon.’

Ægir saw there was no point in trying to convince him; he would believe whatever he wanted to. ‘Yes, let’s hope so. I was just fetching them some Coke and a bite to eat in case they get their appetites back, so I decided to look in and see how it’s going. Find out if there’s any good news for a change.’

Thráinn grunted. ‘Good news.’ He shook his head slowly, suppressing a yawn. ‘As you’ve no doubt noticed, we’re under way again – that should count as good news.’

‘Yes. I realised. What happened?’

‘The container sank. Presumably because you loosened the door. It must have shaken open with the movement, letting the air escape. So you fixed it. Bravo.’ From the taciturn Thráinn, this was high praise. ‘Anyway, the main thing isn’t how it happened but the fact that we’re on our way home. I’m going to push her faster than I have up to now, since it’s vital we get to port as soon as possible.’

Ægir opened his mouth to ask if he was referring to the discovery of the body and its subsequent disappearance, but the answer was glaringly obvious. ‘How far have we got left?’

Thráinn reached for the chart and showed him their most recent position. Iceland was further away than Ægir had hoped; in fact they were more or less equidistant from all the nearest landmasses, which meant they would have nothing to gain by heading anywhere but home. ‘All being well, we’re about forty-eight hours from home.’ Thráinn put down the chart. ‘All being well.’ He regarded Ægir levelly. ‘Actually, I’m glad you came up. I was thinking of looking in on you. We need to have a chat.’

‘Oh?’ The yacht plunged sickeningly and Ægir gripped the handle on the wall.

When the captain finally released Ægir’s gaze, he turned back to stare at the black expanse of glass that extended the width of the bridge. ‘As you’re aware, we’re in a serious situation. There’s something very strange going on and, as matters stand, I can’t trust Halli or Loftur.’

‘So?’ Ægir hoped Thráinn wasn’t going to propose they join forces to overpower the other men and lock them up. He had no way of determining which of the three crew members was guilty. What on earth would he do if there were only the two of them left and it turned out to be Thráinn? Tackle him with Lára’s help? Hardly.

‘I haven’t a clue who moved the body and chucked it overboard – Halli, Loftur, your wife? The girls?’ He silenced Ægir’s protests with a wave of his hand. ‘All I know for sure is that it wasn’t me and it wasn’t you. I didn’t leave the rail the entire time you were underwater, but Halli did, and so did Loftur, who had come to watch. I know nothing about your wife, though I admit it’s far less likely that she was responsible than one of the boys, if only because your daughters seem to follow her everywhere. And they can hardly have done it.’