He fumbled for his phone, but it had fallen out of his pocket during the struggle, and he hadn’t put on the hands-free set after leaving the gym to hurry to Úrsúla’s house. For a moment there was silence in the kitchen, and Gunnar wondered how he could keep Óðinn in check while also finding a phone to call for help. He wasn’t sure if it was a moment or longer, as time flashed past with the rush of adrenaline, but gradually his attention was drawn to Úrsúla’s regular gasps. Úrsúla!

She lay motionless on the floor, silent apart from her unnerving gasps as she fought for breath. He was caught in a quandary. He would either have to release Óðinn to look after Úrsúla, in the hope that he would make a run for it instead of attacking her a second time, or else hold Óðinn down and hope for some miracle that would bring help. He released his grip on Óðinn, who scrambled to his feet and vanished through the door, and a second later Gunnar heard the front door slam shut behind him.

The holder for the home phone was empty, so the phone itself had to be somewhere else. He wasn’t going to waste valuable time searching for his mobile. So, dizzy with the exertion, he supported himself against the furniture and the door frame and found his way to the front door and pressed the red alarm button. The special unit would be there any minute, armed to the teeth, but Úrsúla also needed an ambulance as soon as possible, so he went outside and ran a few steps along the street to the ministry car. He 263opened the door, and on his knees in the passenger seat, made a call using the emergency radio.

‘Help, now!’ he called. ‘Ambulance! The minister is injured. I think she has a knife wound and is losing blood.’

He hurried back, fighting to keep his footing on the ice. The GPS locator in the ministry car would ensure that the ambulance would come right to them.

In the kitchen he dropped to his knees beside Úrsúla, looking for the source of the pooling blood that had turned most of her blouse dark red. He found the wound on the right side of her chest. He put his palm over it and pressed. The hissing sound stopped as he closed the wound, but her breathing was irregular and her eyes closed.

The next few minutes passed in fits and starts. He heard the wail of a siren, and before he knew it a paramedic was loosening his hands from Úrsúla’s body. He dropped back and sat on the floor, while another of the ambulance crew fixed a drip into her arm and placed an oxygen mask on her face, before they slipped her onto a stretcher and quickly wheeled her out. Then he was sitting on the sofa, telling a detective about what Óðinn had done, and a moment later Boris was there, asking if he knew where Óðinn had gone.