‘Now then, that’s enough,’ Alex said, taking hold of her shoulders, turning her around and leading her back up the dock and towards the town. Sonja dried her face with her sleeve and sniffed. Screaming had left her half choked with sobs.

‘We might need to organise an escape route,’ she said. ‘If I don’t find out how Húni Thór is going to bring the goods in, then I can’t stop him, and once he has a large-scale transport route, then I’m no longer needed. And you know what Sebastian does with people who are surplus to requirements.’

‘We’ll draw up an escape plan,’ he said. ‘The question is, does Tómas come with us or not?’

Sonja gasped. She would either have to leave Tómas with his father, which was a risk, or take him with her on the run, which itself was extremely high risk. It was a position she had not expected to be in, at least not with this suddenness.

‘Shh,’ Alex said, opening the car door and guiding her to a seat. ‘You’ll find someone who knows something. And Sponge is running around asking questions. He has a way of persuading people to tell him what they know.’

His tone was soothing and relaxing, as it always was when she lost her temper. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, she could trust Alex to remain calm.

‘And if I don’t find anyone who knows anything, and Húni Thór manages to ship in one go as much as it takes me months to send using mules? That means he has the whole thing in his hands. Fucking, fucking, fuck.’

‘Take one hour at a time,’ Alex said. ‘One at a time.’ He started the car and pulled away. ‘Now we need to go to Tómas’s friend’s place and pick up the backpack he forgot there. He called me and asked me to collect it; but I reckon there’ll be fewer questions if his mother knocks and asks for it, rather than a foreign bodyguard.’

Sonja knew that Alex had been relieved to be asked to run this errand, and that he was aware that having something other than her own problems to think about would calm her down.

‘Which friend?’

‘The one who was on the football course with him last summer. The one who lives by the lake on Tjarnargata.’

‘Anton.’

‘That’s him. Anton.’

98

‘Let’s order the five-course menu,’ Anton said, smiling as Júlía’s eyes opened wide at the sight of the prices. She frowned as if to indicate that it was far too expensive. ‘Anything you want,’ he added. ‘Money’s no object.’

They had ordered Coke, and the waiter had brought fresh-baked bread and some green-brown paste made from olives that Júlía eagerly spread on her slice. This had to be the kind of thing she was used to at home. He had often been offered some strange spicy jams and chutneys in her house.