Omar took the phone and dropped it in his pocket.

‘Björn will go crazy if he figures out that I’m pretending to be him and I’ve taken his stuff to Canada,’ Omar sighed, then laughed nervously. Grímur gave him an encouraging smile and patted his shoulder.

‘It serves the bastard right,’ he said, and this time Omar laughed louder.

‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘He deserves it. He was bad to Ísafold, and Ísafold is my friend.’

‘Mine too,’ Grímur said. For a moment their eyes met and they understood each other.

‘Did she come and say goodbye to you before she left?’ Omar asked, and Grímur was sure that his eyes filled with tears.

‘No,’ he said. ‘She left without a word.’

Omar sniffed and a few tears spilled down his cheek.

‘Careful,’ Grímur warned, rummaging in the glove compartment for a tissue, dabbing cautiously at Omar’s cheek. ‘Deep breaths, remember?’

‘You’re a good man, helping me like this. Thank you.’

Omar stretched out a hand, and Grímur took it lightly, taking care not to spoil the make-up he had applied to the backs of Omar’s hands.229

‘Good luck,’ Grímur said, and watched the boy disappear into the bus station, hoping fervently that everything would work out for him. This hadn’t been part of the plan. The idea had come to him that morning when he found Björn’s passport in the desk drawer. If everything were to work out, it would be perfect – and it needed to work; Omar had to make his escape to Canada. Because if he were caught, then they would probably both be in deep trouble.

230

96

The cash is in neat bundles in the briefcase. I pick up a wad of ten-thousand-krónur notes, weighing it in my hands. The notes are beautiful, blue, with a plover and its chicks on the back, as if the role of these birds was to be the harbingers of an endless springtime for the economy. But they don’t spark any desire.

Normally I would have pulled the stack of notes apart, spread them out on the clean, white hotel bed and rolled around naked in them.

Usually I would have revelled in this, throwing banknotes in the air and letting them rain down on me, laughed out loud, cracked open a bottle of champagne. I’d have felt the power of money seeping into my body, quivering with anticipation as it took root in my heart.

But as I hold the cash in my hands, there’s no feeling. All I can feel is a gnawing fear about what may have happened to my sister.

I put the wad of banknotes back in the briefcase and close it.

231

TUESDAY

97