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Back Cold as Hell Save as PDF
Chapters (115)
  1. COLD AS HELL
  2. PRONUNCIATION GUIDE
  3. CONTENTS
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. 82
  86. 83
  87. 84
  88. 85
  89. 86
  90. 87
  91. 88
  92. 89
  93. 90
  94. 91
  95. 92
  96. 93
  97. 94
  98. 95
  99. 96
  100. 97
  101. 98
  102. 99
  103. 100
  104. 101
  105. 102
  106. 103
  107. 104
  108. 105
  109. 106
  110. 107
  111. 108
  112. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  113. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  114. ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR
  115. COPYRIGHT

Hákon appeared to be looking at a bank account, and as far as Áróra could see, it was the Swiss account that was so securely locked away behind its passwords. She took one screenshot after another, saving them to her own computer. Hákon seemed to be going from one account to another, and his movements were so rapid, she couldn’t make out if he was making transfers or paying invoices, but she could clearly see that both of the accounts he held at this Swiss bank contained large amounts of money – very large amounts.136

Her heart pounded as she opened an Icelandic bank’s webpage to get the exchange rate and convert those Swiss francs to sterling or krónur, so she would have a clearer idea of what kind of amounts he was dealing with. She was punching a series of zeroes into the converter when an alert appeared in a blue window in the corner of her screen, and for a second that was all she could focus on.

Her eyes locked onto the message text and the bank accounts became a blurred background. Suddenly, money no longer mattered. Áróra felt that time had been suspended as she clicked on the alert, which took her to Facebook and a picture of Ísafold, a broad grin on her face and wearing a sleeveless yellow dress against a backdrop of a sun-kissed beach. There was a deep-blue sea behind her and a cluster of white houses in the distance.

Italy is wonderful! the text with the picture read, and Áróra stared at the timestamp. Ísafold appeared to have uploaded the picture a moment ago and unblocked her sister so she could see it.

Áróra snatched up her phone and searched through it for her mother’s number, but her hands trembled so violently that she dropped the phone, putting her hands to her mouth to stifle the sound that came from deep inside her like a primeval scream. She stood up and paced furiously back and forth, and when she finally felt that she had control of her breathing it was as if a pent-up tension had been released, and tears flooded down her cheeks.

She had been sure that she would be angry with Ísafold, that she would want to yell at her, tell her precisely what she thought of her for causing their mother so much worry and making her sister so anxious. But all she could feel was relief – such a surge of relief that her legs turned to jelly and she dropped to her knees. Ísafold was alive.

137

56

I’ve only just got out of the Blue Lagoon, after two hours of lounging with my toes in the white mud, when Ísafold’s neighbour calls. I hadn’t meant to go into town, just enjoy a quick break at the lagoon during the stopover between the UK and the States.