Sonja no longer heard what Ingimar was saying, and his voice faded into the background as he rambled on about the boat, the trawl gear, langoustine fishing and the sea in general while she read the news article. A fishing company owned by Húni Thór, and presumably also by his uncle, Ingimar, had bought a trawler from Scotland, according to the article, and Húni Thór was the skipper who was bringing it over to Iceland following a refit. At the end was a quote from Húni Thór Gunnarsson, ‘former parliamentary star and entrepreneur’, who described the boat in glowing terms. He seemed to be displaying the flair that had served him so well through the years.

Sonja put the newspaper down on the sideboard and told Ingimar that she and Tómas might well take up his offer to look over the boat if they had time, although during such a short visit to Iceland there was naturally a great deal to do, with plenty of people to visit and errands to run.

She tripped quickly down the steps and sat in the car next to Alex. She took out her phone, punched in 800 5005 and as soon as the police confidential hotline responded she began to speak.

‘You need to take a good look at the boat that’s on the front cover of Fréttablaðið today: Anton RE. It’s due to arrive in Iceland the day after tomorrow and on board is the largest shipment you’ve ever seen. Coke, Es, speed, steroids.’

She ended the call and took the battery out of her phone. Alex looked at her questioningly. He understood no more than a few words of Icelandic, but he could see that Sonja looked relieved.

Messing up the occasional shipment was never appreciated, but Sebastian would never forgive Húni Thór for losing the whole of the store in one go. This would put Húni Thór out of the game and her back in a key position. The knot of tension that had been growing and hardening in her belly over the last few days had vanished, and now she gazed along Tjarnargata and admired how beautiful the dark-green shrubs on the bank of the lake looked even this early in the summer.

102

Agla had waited with her phone in her hand all evening, but when it finally rang she was so startled, she dropped it and it bounced onto the floor and under the sofa. On her knees, she groped for it, finally found it and answered.

‘What are you up to?’ Elísa asked. ‘Right now. What are you doing?’

‘I’m in my dressing gown, on my knees on the floor crawling around to find my phone under the sofa.’

Elísa laughed.

‘I wish I was there with you,’ she said. ‘So I could laugh at you.’