Nick dropped Erla at Stúdentagarđar, then drove back to his hotel for a shower and a change of clothes. He was aiming for a sophisticated look, his best guess as to what would help him blend in at the auction. He didn’t feel sophisticated. There was a knot of tension in his stomach that only tightened as he made his way to the Never Before Gallery, arriving a little after the event’s scheduled start time.

The evening was soft and windless, a stark contrast with the snow and slush of two days before. Invitees were arriving: middle-aged men in dark suits and open-neck shirts with expensive tans and chunky wristwatches – and a few middle-aged women, also dressed in dark clothes and favouring luxury brand handbags. The gallery itself was closed. Those entering were directed upstairs, after their credentials had been verified. Nick saw cards like the one Miranda had given him being discreetly scanned and returned with a smile – and an iPad.

His own card survived scrutiny. The tablet he was given was evidently something more specific than a standard iPad. ‘For your use this evening, sir,’ he was told, which sounded both enticing and limiting at the same time.

He went up the curving stairs into a long, softly lit room, where glamorous young waiters and waitresses were circulating with champagne and canapés. There were almost as many of them as there were guests. There was no crush, no deafening clamour. The air was cool, the mood restrained but expectant. Above the melange of expensive perfumes and colognes there was some strange energizing quality in the atmosphere.

The first-floor windows overlooking the street were curtained off. The walls had become giant screens, displaying pictures that split and split again into a carousel of images: mountains, streams, forests, moors; open skies, wide horizons. When Nick activated his tablet, it established interactivity with the nearest screened image, which he could toggle round to different perspectives. The tablet then informed him that he was seeing a future-enhanced representation of local conditions for a particular lot number. It seemed that what was for sale at this auction really was the land that Erla and Kristjan believed should never be for sale.

‘You look like a discerning man.’ The words were spoken by a tall, dark-skinned, good-looking fellow guest who’d appeared at Nick’s elbow. ‘Independent too, I would say.’ There was an accent Nick would have guessed was Middle Eastern. ‘Perhaps not a proxy.’

‘Perhaps not,’ Nick replied, smiling coolly.

‘Very good,’ said his new friend with a flash of dazzlingly white teeth. ‘Perhaps not. So, discreet as well as discerning.’

‘Are you a proxy?’

‘Of course. The kind of people who can play this game are also the kind of people who can send someone else to make the actual moves. This you know, though.’

‘I don’t have anyone to send to something like this.’

‘That must make your life … full.’