The flat wasn’t small by Japanese standards, but Wada suspected that to an Icelander it was tiny. There was a vestibule area, a kitchen no more than one person could comfortably enter at a time, a closed door that presumably led to the bathroom and one other room that appeared to serve as lounge, study and bedroom all rolled into one. Dark blue paint on the walls didn’t make it seem any larger.

Erla had taken off her anorak and hung it on a hook. She was standing in the doorway of the lounge. Wada could see herself over Erla’s shoulder, reflected in a high, narrow wall-mirror.

‘Welcome,’ said Erla.

‘Hæ,’ came another, male voice. A man, even taller and thinner than Erla, swung his legs off the bed, where he’d evidently been lying, and stood up, the top of his head coming close to brushing the ceiling. He was clearly older than Erla, maybe by ten years, but he had the loose-limbed casual look of the perpetual student about him.

‘This is Kristjan Einarsson,’ said Erla. ‘Kristjan, this is Umiko.’

Kristjan had light brown hair tied back in a ponytail and a wispy beard that accentuated the narrowness of his face. He fixed Wada with a sapphire gaze. ‘You’re Japanese, right?’ he asked, with no hint of politeness.

‘Right,’ said Wada. ‘And you’re Icelandic.’

‘Sure. For every generation backwards.’

‘Do you both know Martin Caldwell?’

‘Yeah. We both know him. How do you know him?’

‘We were supposed to meet. In London. He didn’t show up.’

‘And you came all the way here to find him?’

‘It was an important meeting.’

Erla murmured something in Icelandic. Kristjan nodded. ‘Martin said he was going back to England to meet a Japanese woman. That’s you, I guess. Though he never gave us your name.’ The glance he exchanged with Erla then left Wada questioning whether that was true.

‘Can you help me find Martin Caldwell?’

‘Can you help us find him?’

‘Maybe. Maybe we can help each other.’

‘Yeah. But that means we have to trust each other first. And I don’t trust you … Umiko.’

‘My friends just call me Wada.’

‘Was Martin your friend?’

‘No. I have never met him.’

‘We’re ahead of you there. But we don’t know where he is. It seems he hasn’t left Iceland. Beyond that …’ Kristjan shrugged.

‘What was your business with him?’

‘Why should we tell you?’ Erla cut in. ‘Give us a reason.’