Far North - Michael Ridpath [114]
‘Did you do it?’ asked Árni.
‘Of course not,’ said the nurse, glancing at Árni as if he was an idiot.
Árni smiled encouragingly. That happened to him quite a lot. Smile and move on, was his motto.
‘I gave him a solution of water and sodium bisulphate. Tear gas wears off of its own accord in a few minutes.’
‘Did the boy say what his name was?’ Árni asked.
‘He may have done. I don’t remember it if he did.’
‘You didn’t keep a record anywhere? Notes?’
‘No. Just treat one and move on to the next one.’
Pity, Árni thought. ‘Do you recognize any of these people?’ Árni asked, showing the nurse photos of Harpa, Björn and Sindri.
‘No,’ said Íris, studying them. ‘Actually, I think I recognize the big guy with the ponytail. I saw him wandering around in some of those protests.’
‘But you didn’t see him talking to the boy?’
‘No.’ The woman shook her head.
Árni pulled out another photograph, a still from the RÚV video showing Sindri standing behind the nurse as she tended the boy.
‘I see him now, but I didn’t notice him then,’ she said. ‘Or hear what he said.’
Árni replaced the photographs. ‘Thank you for your help.’ As he walked away from the nurse, he considered the next step. He wasn’t actually any closer to identifying the boy.
Suddenly he had a brainwave.
He turned. The nurse was just disappearing around a corner of the corridor.
‘Íris?’ He ran after her.
‘Yes?’
‘One last question. Where did the boy think he could get the steak?’
‘Oh, I remember that. The 101 Hotel. He said he used to work there as a chef.’
Björn drove the pickup to the bakery on Nordurströnd. He knew that what he was about to do would change his relationship with Harpa for ever.
But he had no choice.
Of course Ísak was right. Once Ingólfur Arnarson had been dealt with, there would be the problem of what to do with Harpa. But Björn had a plan for that. It was probably wishful thinking, but he would give it a try.
He loved Harpa, and he was sure that she loved him. They shared similar values. She hated the credit crunch and the people who had caused it as much as he did. She would understand what he had done. Perhaps she would join him.
In the hut where he was taking her there would be a lot of time to talk. Perhaps he could persuade her. Yes, he could persuade her. He had to.
He remembered the chance meeting with Sindri in the Grand Rokk three months before. Things would have been very different if he had just walked away then. But he didn’t regret what he and the others had done over the last couple of weeks. Someone had to bring the bastards to justice.
Björn and Gulli were having a beer in the tent outside the Grand Rokk, so Gulli could smoke. Although it was eleven o’clock it was June, and so still light. The drinkers were full of the midsummer hyperactivity that strikes Iceland at that time of year: a nation running faster and faster without sleep.
‘Björn? Is that Björn?’
Björn turned to see a large figure with a broad leather hat and a ponytail. ‘Sindri!’ He stood up and shook the big man’s hand.
Sindri glanced at his companion and Björn introduced his brother. Sindri was a little drunk, Björn was a little drunk, Gulli was very drunk. Sindri and Björn talked about this and that, but not about January. They did exchange rants about the bankers. Gulli watched them, knocking the beer back steadily, not really paying much attention.
‘Do you remember I told you my brother was in danger of losing his farm?’ Sindri said.
Björn nodded. ‘Did he lose it?’
‘He couldn’t wait. Topped himself. Three months ago.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Björn said.
‘Yeah. A wife. Two daughters. They will still lose the farm. How are you doing? Have you kept hold of your boat?’
‘Had to sell it,’ said Björn. ‘Not much hope of ever getting another one.’
The two men sat in silence staring at each other. Gulli lit another cigarette.
‘We weren’t wrong, were we?’ said Sindri.
Björn hesitated. Swallowed. ‘No, we weren’t.’
‘Look. I’m having