Wada weighed her options. The pair were clearly suspicious, maybe with good reason. She’d come to Iceland to learn whatever she could. She wasn’t going to learn much without taking a few chances. It was time to take one of those chances. ‘Martin Caldwell was expecting to meet a woman called Mimori Takenaga. But she could not leave Japan. She sent me instead. I work for a private detective. Mr Caldwell told Mrs Takenaga he could give her information about an Englishman who worked for her father at the time of his death – supposedly by suicide – in London in 1977. As far as I have discovered, the man was a student with Mr Caldwell named Peter Ellery. But Mrs Takenaga knew him as Peter Evans. And now it seems he’s known as Peter Driscoll.’

‘Who’s the private detective you work for?’ asked Kristjan.

‘Kazuto Kodaka. I must tell you he was killed – hit-and-run – after I left Tokyo. And Mrs Takenaga has been placed in a psychiatric clinic by her family.’

‘And Martin’s disappeared.’ Kristjan shook his head. ‘That’s a shitload of bad news, Wada.’

‘Yes. It is.’

‘What do you know about Peter Driscoll?’

‘He runs a deal-brokering company called Quartizon, part-owned by the Nishizaki Corporation.’

‘What sort of deals does he broker?’

‘I am not sure. Maybe you know.’

‘Maybe we do.’ Kristjan said something to Erla in Icelandic. She opened a drawer in a cabinet by the bed, took out some cigarette papers and a sachet of what Wada assumed wasn’t tobacco and started rolling a couple of spliffs. Kristjan sat down on the edge of the bed and frowned at Wada. ‘If your boss is dead and your client’s been put away, why haven’t you given up the case?’

‘I liked my boss. And I am not sure I really have a choice. I am not sure I would be allowed to give up.’

‘You’re in big trouble, Wada.’

‘Yes.’

‘Bigger than us.’ Erla handed Kristjan his spliff. They both lit up. ‘You want one?’

‘No.’

‘A drink, maybe? There’s vodka.’

‘Nothing for me. Except answers.’

Kristjan exchanged another look with Erla, which seemed to settle something. ‘OK,’ he said, waving away a cloud of cannabis-scented smoke. ‘I write a blog about foreign ownership of land in Iceland. Under-the-radar buyouts of farms and estates. There’s a lot of it going on and some of us don’t like it. I named Quartizon as broker for many of the transactions. There are rumours they have options on hundreds, maybe thousands, of parcels of land. They’ve been on my case ever since. Threats, injunctions, the full legal heavy stuff. Plus some non-legal threats to my personal safety. Erla’s also.’

‘Quartizon are frightening,’ said Erla quietly. ‘I wish I’d never heard of them.’