María had told them the whole story, not omitting Agla’s role in it. She was still angry, although maybe not as livid with Agla as she was with herself. She should have known that Agla would never have become involved in investigating someone else’s misdeeds unless there was something in it for her. What María had failed to appreciate was how dearly it would cost her personally to take on this assignment on Agla’s behalf. She thought over the whole investigation – the revolver’s muzzle pressed hard against her cheek, the truck driver with his fist bunched around her wrist, the days in the dark cell, Marteinn’s death. She had told the Spotlight team that she expected the payment for her work to reflect the effort that had gone into this. But payment wasn’t the chief issue. She knew that she could go to Agla and get more from her for not using the story than the state broadcaster would pay for it. But if the TV bought the story and ran it, then foreign media would also latch on to it – an international conspiracy story always made great headlines – and that would give María the recognition she was looking for; the recognition that The Squirrel was a medium for genuine investigative journalism. On top of that, perhaps Icelanders would also wake up to the reality of what was happening to their natural resources.

She hadn’t slept, instead spending the night lying awake and staring at the ceiling. Finally she got up, made herself some coffee and made her way to The Squirrel’s office to collect all the paperwork connected to the story and the computer containing her own narrative, which she would hand over to the Spotlight team as soon as they had signed a contract. It was half past five; she didn’t have to be at the state TV’s offices until seven, so she still had plenty of time to tweak her story before she had to leave.

She parked behind the building. The spot was empty and although it was intended for deliveries, including to the grocery store next door, she often parked there when she was in a hurry. She fumbled in her bag for the keys as she walked towards the building, but when she got there she saw that the door was open and a doormat had been placed in the doorway. She checked her watch in surprise. It was early, but it looked like she wasn’t the only one who was out and about at this hour. She hoped it wasn’t Radio Edda’s station manager as she had no time to spare to talk to him, but she could hardly be brusque with him after he had come to her aid when she had found Marteinn hanging in her office. She went inside, and looked quickly around but saw nothing untoward – only that someone must have been making a delivery to Radio Edda, as there was a sack truck with a box on it in the corridor.