Dawn wasn’t far off and there was nobody about in the city so there was a silent stillness to the place. It wasn’t long before his feet were wet, as the snow was thawing and the footsteps of those who had walked this way before him had become a million little foot-shaped puddles. He tried to avoid them, but slid and stepped in them now and again.

All the lights were off at Úrsúla’s house and the letterbox had been screwed shut. It was just as well her car was parked outside so he could leave his message for her on the windscreen; his warning for her to turn aside from the path of the Devil.

94

Thursday

38

Úrsúla looked up from her laptop and was about to say something to Nonni as he returned from dropping the children off at school, but was startled by the expression on his face.

‘There’s another note!’ he hissed, angrily waving the piece of paper in Úrsúla’s face. ‘It was on the windscreen this morning. Under one of the wipers. It’s obviously meant for you.’

Devil’s-mini-ster reaps death, the note read.

‘Looks to me like a direct murder threat,’ Nonni said, fidgeting as he stood by the desk, too agitated to sit down.

Úrsúla nodded her agreement.

‘I’ll have Gunnar look into it,’ she said, but that was as good as adding fuel to the fire.

‘Have Gunnar look into it? What on earth does the driver have to do with this? We need an injunction on this weirdo to stop them from coming near us. We can’t live with daily threats. You need to have the police deal with this right away!’

Úrsúla stood up, pulled Nonni close and wrapped her arms around him. His body was stiff with tension, and it took a little while before he began to relax. She laid her face against his chest and felt his rapid heartbeat through his shirt.

‘I do take this seriously, my love, I promise,’ she said. ‘Gunnar has a direct line to the national commissioner’s office, which makes sure that government people like us aren’t troubled by weirdos. They collect all the evidence and do some kind of assessment of what level of security is needed.’ 95

Nonni squeezed her tight, once, and let her go.

‘I have to admit that it scares me a bit,’ he whispered.

‘I know,’ she said. ‘Me too.’

She stroked his face. He was so agitated that she didn’t dare mention the email she had received the day before. That would wreck all his ideas about protecting her. He had been certain that they would be safe in Iceland, that here nothing bad ever happened and evil was restricted to comments online. And anyway, she had a hunch that the email was less significant than the scrawled notes, a feeling that was especially true, now that she knew the note-writer’s identity. She would have to tough it out and tell Nonni she knew who it was.