She accepted the beer he opened for her, perched herself on the edge of the table and gave him a quick lecture about The Squirrel’s importance to Icelandic investigative journalism.

‘I’m interested to know what you drivers are doing. The warehouse in Indiana is stacked to the roof, so why are the trucks driving in and out all day long? Can you help me? I can keep your name out of it, of course,’ she added. ‘I’ll just say I have an anonymous source.’

‘What’s in it for me?’ the driver asked.

‘We should be able to pay you something in return for information,’ María said quickly. She had no doubt that Agla would cover the cost.

‘I don’t mean cash,’ he said. ‘It gets lonely on the road, y’know.’

He took two steps towards her, standing close and trapping her between his heavy frame and the wooden table, which was bolted to the ground.

‘Excuse me,’ María said, taking an instinctive step to one side, but his hand closed around her arm, and she realised just what a dangerous position she was in. She was alone in a vast, deserted parking lot, and even if she managed to squeeze out a scream, it would be drowned out by the roar of traffic from the nearby freeway, and there was nobody anywhere near to hear it.

Time suddenly began to take on a strange elasticity as she was faced by the imminent danger. The clear thought formed in her mind, that if she did not react right away, within a few seconds, she would be petrified with fear, just as she had been when she had felt the pistol’s muzzle pressed into her cheek.

She leaned forwards and sank her teeth deep into the man’s arm. As he yelped and relaxed his grip, she sprinted for her car, not daring to look back to see if he was following her. As she dropped herself into the driver’s seat, she heard him yell ‘Stupid bitch!’ She started the engine and fumbled for the door lock at the same time, and a moment later the tyres screeched as she hurtled down the slip road to the freeway.

As she bullied the car up to eighty, she could feel there was no strength in her legs. A deep wave of nausea suddenly swept over her. She slowed down, pulled over, put her head out of the window and vomited onto the verge. A powerful smell assailed her senses, and her limbs were now so weak, she felt paralysed. It all merged together in her thoughts: the man’s sweat-damp face in the darkness and the stench of piss from the toilet.

51

‘I’m sure you’ll do a good job,’ Ingimar said into his phone as he weighed a perfect green avocado in his hand, applying gentle pressure to gauge its ripeness. It seemed fully ripe – a rarity in Iceland, where the distance that products had to be transported meant imported fruit and vegetables were generally sold unripe and needed a few days on the kitchen windowsill before they were edible.