‘Things look bleak,’ Pétur replied. ‘The Devil’s at my heels.’

He stood by the door and peered through the glass to see if he could make out the black car.

‘That’s quite something!’ the boy said, and he sounded amused. ‘The Devil himself in person? You really do have the Devil on your tail.’

‘He drives a big black car,’ Pétur muttered, moving closer to the counter. ‘If a man driving a big black car comes in here looking for me, then you mustn’t breathe a word to him that I’ve been in.’

‘No chance,’ the lad said. ‘I’ll be as silent as the grave.’

‘He knows I warned Úrsúla,’ he said, more to himself than to the youngster. ‘He has the minister in his power, the bastard. But I warned her, and now he’s after me.’ 224

He glanced at the doorway, but everything was quiet.

‘Úrsúla? You mean the minister of the interior? Is that who you’re talking about?’ The lad seemed astonished. ‘Hold on. Aren’t you the guy whose medical records she asked for? Are you that Pétur?’

‘And what’s your name?’ he asked in reply.

‘My name’s Steinn,’ the lad said. ‘You don’t have much of a memory, do you?’

‘I always forget everything,’ Pétur replied. ‘The Devil told me to forget everything. So you’d best keep your mouth shut and forget everything too. Otherwise I’ll end up like Ari.’

‘Who’s Ari?’

‘Keep your mouth shut and forget everything, was what he said, before he let me out.’

‘And what do you think about the minister demanding your medical records? Aren’t you angry about that?’

‘I’m furious. I’m angry with the Devil. I’m angry with Úrsúla for letting herself be fooled.’

The lad opened the till, took a handful of change and handed it to Pétur.

‘Here you are, old man,’ he said. ‘Go and get yourself something to eat.’

Pétur bowed, but forgot to thank him. His mind was on the Devil. He wondered if he should leave through the kiosk’s back door, but he couldn’t see any sign of the black car nearby. At least, not until he was outside.

101

She saw Gunnar hesitate before handing her the green folder, and when she opened it she saw why. It was the post-mortem report on her father. She stared at the diagrams of the front and back of a body, and the injuries that had been marked on it; the injuries 225to her father. These were almost all to his head and throat. She closed the folder and handed it back.

‘I can’t read this,’ she said. ‘Tell me what it says.’

She swallowed the bitter bile that rose in her throat and took deep breaths, all the way down to her belly, to loosen the hard knot that had formed down there. Gunnar took the folder back but didn’t open it.

‘The cause of death was bleeding to the brain,’ he said, and Úrsúla nodded. She already knew that. ‘There was a great deal of bruising to the whole body, but chiefly to the head and neck, consistent with being kicked while lying on the floor.’