The letter itself looked like something Pétur Pétursson would have sent; a piece of greasy paper, the kind used to wrap chips at fast-food places, with a message written in shaky letters:

The Devil’s accomplice guilty of her father’s death

‘So you’ve seen what was waiting to brighten up my day?’ Úrsúla said and grimaced at the sight of it.

‘Freyja handed it to me as I was on my way up to see you. I’m terribly sorry, my dear,’ he said, easing himself into the chair opposite her. His voice trembled and Úrsúla stared at him in surprise. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped pearls of perspiration from his forehead. Úrsúla thought he looked exhausted. It was as if the grey in his hair had somehow spread to his face, making him appear colourless and drained.

‘It’s not your fault, Óðinn. This person is clearly not right in the head,’ she said. 168

This note hadn’t given her as much of a shock as the previous ones had. It was as if the initial shock of Pétur’s persecution had now worn off, and had been replaced in her mind by a cool clarity that allowed her to shake off any discomfort. If anything, these notes had begun to spark her curiosity. What did this person mean by sending her these semi-poetic lines, and who was this devil he always referred to?

‘It’s completely unacceptable that the ministry can’t shield you from this kind of thing, especially here, inside the building!’

He raised his voice for the last few words, and as the door was open, Úrsúla figured that this was intended for Freyja.

‘Óðinn,’ Úrsúla said gently. ‘It’s all right. It may sound strange, but both these notes and the foul emails I’ve been receiving, on top of the miserable media attention, don’t hurt my feelings anymore. I think I’m becoming immune to this.’

Óðinn sighed.

‘It’s bizarre that anyone would have to get used to this kind of thing,’ he said, and held up the greasy scrap of paper, shaking it as if he was drying fresh ink. ‘But this man has to be taken out of circulation. This can’t go on.’

71

Gunnar could feel only sympathy for Úrsúla as he scanned the day’s media coverage. He had been at the press conference when she explained her reasons for enquiring about Pétur, and at the meeting with Boris and Óðinn that had triggered the whole thing, so he failed to understand how this could be twisted into a suggestion that the minister couldn’t trust her own ministry to handle the situation – the conclusion most newspapers had managed to reach.

Úrsúla had called him in, and as he waited outside her office, looking through the newspapers, he wondered how anyone could 169be tempted to go into public life. The public had to be the world’s worst employer, and it included individuals like Fossi, whose main aim was to achieve maximum hurt and distress.

‘There was another letter,’ Freyja whispered to him as he headed for the minister’s office.