Far North - Michael Ridpath [103]
‘Why did he do this to you, Óli?’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘Yes, you can. I won’t tell anyone else.’
Then Óli began to sob. ‘I can’t tell you, Magnús. I won’t tell you. Please don’t make me tell you.’
‘OK, Óli. OK. I won’t make you tell me anything. And I won’t make you leave this room. I’ll just sit with you.’
And Magnus sat with his brother, who soon fell asleep, until he guessed it was close to morning and he crept back to his own bed.
Tuesday 22 September 2009
Magnus fell silent, lying on his back in Ingileif’s bed.
‘God. That’s dreadful,’ she said. ‘How did you cope?’
‘I was a tough little kid, I suppose,’ Magnus said. ‘I used to think about my father. I knew he would want me to stand up for Ollie, so I did. And I knew that one day he would come over from America to rescue us. And one day he did. But only after my mother had driven her car into a rock.’
‘It’s amazing you are not totally screwed up.’
‘No one goes through that kind of thing unscathed,’ said Magnus. ‘Like my mother and my grandfather I have tendencies to drink, which worries me. And sometimes I get so angry I just want to beat the shit out of people. Bad people.’ He paused. ‘I have got myself in trouble for that a couple times. It’s not the kind of thing you should do if you’re a cop. I scare myself sometimes.’
‘Ollie must have been a mess. He must still be a mess.’
‘He was pretty bad when he came to the States. My father did his best. Took him to see a shrink – that helped a lot. But Ollie’s had problems all through his life, with relationships, with jobs, with drugs. I think he still sees a shrink.’
‘Did you?’ Ingileif asked.
‘See a psychiatrist? No. No need.’
‘Uh huh.’
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Magnus said. ‘That I should get help with my issues. But frankly I’m quite happy burying all this stuff. I managed very well for twenty years without thinking about it.’
‘Sure. You obsessed about your father instead.’
‘Maybe,’ said Magnus. ‘I set him up as my saviour. He was my saviour. And then some bastard killed him.’
For the first time, Magnus’s voice faltered.
‘Come here,’ said Ingileif. ‘Come here.’ He rolled over into her arms and she held him tight.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
MAGNUS, VIGDÍS AND Árni were crowded around Árni’s computer. With some difficulty, Árni had managed to get hold of footage from RÚV, the national TV company, of the demonstration.
They were looking at a segment taken in the dark. Faces were indistinct.
‘OK, that’s the three of them there,’ said Árni. ‘You can see Sindri’s ponytail silhouetted against the flare.’
Magnus squinted at the figures – a big man, a thinner man and a woman. ‘Yes, you can see the curls on Harpa’s hair. And that must be Björn.’
‘And you see there’s a guy next to them, with no shirt on, talking to Sindri?’
‘Yes, but you can’t make anything out of his features. It’s not Ísak, though, is it? Too tall.’
‘No, it’s not Ísak,’ said Árni. ‘But let’s go back a bit.’
‘OK.’ Árni played the footage in reverse. Harpa and Björn walked backwards away from Sindri and the tall newcomer, who plunged his head into a bucket of water and put on his football shirt. Then he stretched himself out on the ground in front of the camera. A nurse was treating his eyes. The TV crew’s lights picked up the features here. The man was not much more than a kid, eighteen or nineteen perhaps. He had spiky red hair. The nurse treating him had a round face, pink cheeks and a button nose. You could just make out Sindri in the crowd surrounding them. He seemed to be shouting encouragement to the kid.
‘I see,’ said Magnus. ‘But we know Sindri spoke to lots of people at the demo. He says he always does. What’s so special about this guy?’
‘Hang on a minute,’ said Árni. ‘And you will see.’ He tapped away at his keyboard and called up the police surveillance video. ‘OK. Here are the three of them leaving the demonstration, and I think that’s Ísak with them.’
‘You can’t really see, can you?’
‘No, but the build