‘I don’t know, Wada, because I don’t know what she’s going to say. You’ll just have to work it out for yourself.’

‘You said the smart thing to do was to stay out of Driscoll’s way.’

‘It still is. But sometimes there’s the smart thing … and the right thing. And I get the feeling you know the difference. Sorry to dump it on you. There’s no one else I can ask.’

Wada didn’t know what to say to that. She held the memory stick in her palm and considered the possibility of handing it back. But she didn’t.

‘Ready to go aboard now?’ Espersen asked eventually.

‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Ready.’

TWENTY-TWO

NICK WATCHED THE runway fade from view as the icelandair morning flight to London took off from Keflavík airport. He felt a keen sense of frustration about his failure to accomplish what he’d specifically gone to Iceland for: a meeting with Peter Driscoll. It was tempered by relief that he’d avoided straying into the intrigues that had swallowed Caldwell and Wada. He was alive and well and free to carry on with his comfortable existence. He knew he should be grateful for that. It wasn’t a small thing. Caldwell’s death was a continuing reminder of that. Yet he knew the mystery of Peter Driscoll wouldn’t leave him alone until he could see and speak to the man who was his father.

He’d been promised that would happen, as and when Driscoll judged it safe. But would it really? Would Driscoll ever judge it safe? There was no way for Nick to tell. He didn’t know how the man’s mind worked. Or what was needed to make their meeting safe.

He’d gone to Iceland with myriad questions. Some of them had been answered. But they’d only given rise to others. There was still so much he didn’t understand. And in the short term there was the problem of what he was going to tell Kate.

He’d phoned her late the previous night and explained Driscoll had refused to meet him but had promised to be in touch eventually. Naturally, he’d said nothing about his dealings with Erla Torfadóttir, far less the death of Martin Caldwell. Telling her about such things would only alarm her. He didn’t like deceiving her. In fact, he hated everything that doing so involved. But, for the moment, he couldn’t see any way round it.

Perhaps, it occurred to him as the plane levelled off and the FASTEN SEATBELTS sign went out, it would be better if Driscoll never did contact him. He supposed he could find a way to live with that. Plenty of people got by without ever knowing their father. Maybe he ought to settle for being one of them.