He knew how brusque he could be when he was immersed in his thoughts and emotions, and he understood that people could be frightened of him when he was at his most nervous, but right now it was irritating, as he wanted to blend into the crowd. Tonight he had to blend in. That was why he was wearing his wig. It was nylon, as he would have been revolted by genuine hair, and was shiny and looked slightly unreal. But he allowed the wig to sit tilted forward over his forehead, hiding his lack of eyebrows, 206which people seemed to see as the weirdest thing about him. He needed to maintain his appearance through to the evening, and he would have to keep his focus and not become absent-minded. He had to, because now it was a question of life or death.

The city centre was quieter than it was on Friday evenings, without the usual pre-weekend excitement. He dipped into his pocket and felt for the ring box. It was ready, with a deep-pink silk ribbon tied around it. He told the waiter who approached him at the door that he didn’t need a table; he was just going to have a drink at the bar. He chose a seat that gave him a view of the table where Björn was doing his best to charm his new girlfriend. The place wasn’t full, but was busy enough for the waiters to hurry back and forth, and there was a buzz of conversation. He half turned away from them, not so much that he couldn’t keep a watchful eye on them, but enough, with the wig on his head, for him to remain unrecognised.

Grímur ordered a treble rum and coke, and sipped it slowly. His drink was sweet and strong, and he would happily have knocked it back quickly and ordered another. He would need all his courage tonight, but he also knew that more than one drink like this would jeopardise everything. He needed to be fit to drive and in full control of all his strength if this was all going to work out. And for Ísafold’s sake, now that she lay abandoned and bundled into a crack in the rocks, it had to work out.

Grímur’s heart lurched when Björn finally got to his feet and made his way to the toilet. He waited until the door had closed behind him, stood up and went straight to the table where Kristín sat, even more beautiful than before, if such a thing was possible. Her hair was pulled back, displaying her high forehead, and her eyes were highlighted wonderfully with silver eye shadow.

‘Delivery for you,’ Grímur said, handing her the case containing the ring.