Far North - Michael Ridpath [123]
‘Like kill some people?’
‘Harpa.’ Björn reached across the table for Harpa’s hand. She drew back from him. ‘Harpa, you’ve suffered almost as badly. You lost your job. Your father lost his savings. Gabríel Örn treated you badly, as did Óskar. Don’t you see we’re the good guys here?’
‘You are a murderer, Björn. OK, you didn’t pull the trigger yourself, but you are a murderer.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Wait a minute! Did you pick Óskar because of me? Did you know he was Markús’s father?’
‘The police only told me that on Sunday. But yes, when we were talking about which bank boss to go for, Ódinsbanki seemed a good choice to me.’
‘So you killed him on my account?’
‘Yours, mine and every other ordinary person in Iceland.’
Harpa pursed her lips. Anger flared through the couple of tears that had gathered in tiny pools around her eyes. ‘So what are you doing with me? Holding me prisoner?’
‘I’d like you to stay here for the next twenty-four hours.’
‘Until the next guy on the list is shot?’
Björn shrugged.
‘And what happens after that?’
Björn sighed. ‘I think it’s inevitable they catch us. The others think there’s going to be a revolution, but I don’t know. It’s just not the way the Icelanders do things. So I guess I’m going to jail.’
For a moment Harpa almost felt sorry for him. But only for a moment. ‘You deserve to,’ she said.
‘Maybe. Perhaps I should pay for what I’ve done; I knew the consequences when I did it. I will just have to accept them.’ His voice was calm.
‘Perhaps you should.’
‘One more day, and then it won’t matter. The others think they’ve still got a chance. I’d like you to keep quiet for a couple of days, until the police have caught us. Then you can say what you like. I’ll make sure you aren’t implicated in any of this.’
‘You’re mad if you think I would go along with that.’
‘Please, Harpa,’ Björn said. ‘For my sake.’
Harpa glared at him. ‘You make me sick,’ she said. ‘Now give me my phone and let me make a call.’
‘No,’ said Björn.
‘In that case, I’m leaving now,’ Harpa said, pulling herself to her feet.
‘You have to stay in the hut,’ said Björn. ‘No, I don’t,’ said Harpa. ‘Are you going to stop me?’
She walked a couple of paces towards the door. Björn leapt to his feet, grabbed her from behind, twisted her around and pinned her to the floor. Harpa screamed and kicked. Björn stretched out and grabbed the length of rope that was lying on a chair.
He wrapped it around her body, pinning her arms to her sides, and tied a firm knot. Harpa screamed louder as she writhed against the rope. Björn left her on the floor and stood by the cooker watching her.
‘I hate you, Björn!’ Harpa yelled. ‘I hate you!’
The screams were muffled by the walls of the hut and the mist outside, so by the time they reached the rocky slopes of the valley they were scarcely powerful enough to create an echo.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
MAGNUS WOKE UP thinking about Ingileif. Or rather he didn’t know what to think about Ingileif.
Her accusation that he was jealous of her, that he suspected her of seeing other men, was ironic. In Magnus’s previous relationship, with Colby, the lawyer in Boston, he was always the one who was being controlled. Colby wanted to regularize the relationship, to get married, to send Magnus off to law school. He was relieved to get away from that, and indeed that was one of the many things that attracted him to Ingileif. She was independent, she did what she wanted, and she allowed him to be the same way.
So if she went off to parties with her beautiful friends, what business was that of his?
Except he didn’t like the idea of her sleeping with other men. And he wasn’t even sure whether her anger with him was because she did occasionally do that and she thought it none of his business, or because he didn’t know her well enough to trust her to stay away from other men.
Which all showed she had a point. He didn’t really know her.
She wanted to go to Germany. He was likely to be sent back to the States. It