In other summers we had left as soon as I arrived in Reykjavik, but this time it had to be different because of Slades package, and I wondered how I was to get to Akureyri alone without arousing her suspicions. Slade had said the job was going to be easy but the late Mr Lindholm made all the difference and I didnt want Elin involved in any part of it. Still, all I had to do was to deliver the package and the job would be over and the summer would be like all the other summers. It didnt seem too difficult.
I was mulling this over when Elin said, You really do look tired. You must have been overworking.
I managed a smile. An exhausting winter. There was too much snow on the hills I lost a lot of stock. Suddenly I remembered. You wanted to see what the glen was like; I brought you some photographs.
I went and got the photographs and we pored over them. I pointed out Bheinn Fhada and Sgurr Dearg, but Elin was more interested in the river and the trees. All those trees, she said luxuriously. Scotland must be beautiful. That was an expected reaction from an Icelander; the island is virtually treeless. Are there salmon in your river?
Just trout, I said. I come to Iceland for salmon.
She picked up another photograph a wide landscape. What on here is yours?
I looked at it and grinned. All you can see.
Oh! She was silent for a while, then said a little shyly, Ive never really thought about it, Alan; but you must be rich.
Im no Croesus, I said. But I get by. Three thousand acres of heather isnt very productive, but sheep on the hills and forestry in the glen bring in the bread, and Americans who come to shoot the deer put butter on the bread. I stroked her arm. Youll have to come to Scotland.
Id like that, she said simply.
I put it to her fast. I have to see a man in Akureyri tomorrow its a favour Im doing for a friend. That means Ill have to fly. Why dont you take up the Land-Rover and meet me there? Or would it be too much for you to drive all that way?
She laughed at me. I can drive the Land-Rover better than you. She began to calculate. Its 450 kilometres; I wouldnt want to do that in one day so Id stop somewhere near Hvammstangi. I could be in Akureyri at mid-morning the next day.
No need to break your neck, I said casually. I was relieved; I could fly to Akureyri, get rid of the package before Elin got there and all would be well. There was no need to involve her at all. I said, Ill probably stay at the Hotel Vardborg. You can telephone me there.
But when we went to bed I found I was strung up with unrelieved tensions and I could do nothing for her. While holding Elin in the darkness, Lindholms face hovered ghost-like in my inner vision and again I tasted the nausea in my throat. I choked a little, and said, Im sorry.
It doesnt matter, darling, she said quietly. Youre tired. Just go to sleep.
But I couldnt. I lay on my back and reviewed the whole of an unpleasant day. I went over every word that had been said by my uncommunicative contact at Keflavik airport, the man whom Slade had said would pass me the package. Dont take the main road to Reykjavik, he had said. Go by Krysuvik.
So I had gone by Krysuvik and come within an ace of being killed. Chance or design? Would the same thing have happened had I gone by the main road? Had I been set up as a patsy deliberately?
The man at the airport had been Slades man, or at least he had the password that Slade had arranged. But supposing he wasnt Slades man and still had the password it wasnt too hard to think up ways and means of that coming about. Then why had he set me up for Lindholm? Certainly not for the package he already had the package! Scratch that one and start again.
Supposing he had been Slades man and had still set me up for Lindholm that made less sense. And, again, it couldnt have been for the package; he neednt have given it to me in the first place. It all boiled down to the fact that the man at the airport and Lindholm had nothing to do with each other.
But Lindholm had definitely been waiting for me. He had even made sure of my name before attacking. So how in hell did he know Id be on the Krysuvik road? That was one I couldnt answer.
Presently, when I was sure Elin was sound asleep, I got out of bed quietly and went into the kitchen, not bothering to turn on a light. I opened the refrigerator and poured myself a glass of milk, then wandered into the living-room and sat by the window. The short northern night was almost over but it was still dark enough to see the sudden glow from the alley across the street as the watching man drew on a cigarette.
He worried me because I was no longer certain Elin was safe.
III
We were both up early, Elin because she wanted to make a quick start for Akureyri, and I because I wanted to get at the Land-Rover before Elin did. I had some things to stow in the Land-Rover that I didnt want Elin to know about; Lindholms gun, for instance. I taped it securely to one of the main chassis girders and well out of sight. His cosh I put in my pocket. It had occurred to me that if things did not go well I might be in need of weaponry in Akureyri.
I didnt have to go out of the front door to get at the Land-Rover because the garage was at the back, and so the watcher in the alley got no sight of me. But I saw him because the next thing I did was to take a pair of field glasses one flight up to a landing where there was a window overlooking the street.
He was a tall, lean man with a neat moustache and he looked cold. If he had been there all night without a break he would be not only frozen to the marrow but starving. I made sure I would know him again if I saw him and lowered the glasses just as someone came downstairs from an upstairs flat. It was a middle-aged grey-haired woman who looked at me and then at the glasses and gave a meaningful sniff.
I grinned. It was the first time I had been suspected of voyeurism.
I enjoyed breakfast all the more because of my hungry friend across the street. Youre looking more cheerful, said Elin.
Its your cooking, I said.
She looked at the herring, the cheese, the bread and the eggs. What cooking? Anyone can boil an egg.
Not like you, I assured her.
But I was more cheerful. The dark thoughts of the night had gone and in spite of all the unanswered questions the death of Lindholm no longer oppressed me. He had tried to kill me and failed, and had suffered the penalty for failure. The fact that I had killed him didnt weigh too heavily upon my conscience. My only lingering worry was for Elin.
I said, Theres a flight for Akureyri from Reykjavik City Airport at eleven.
Youll have lunch there, said Elin. Spare a thought for me bouncing about down in Kaldidalur. She swallowed hot coffee hastily. Id like to leave as soon as possible.
I waved at the laden table. Ill clean up here.
She got ready to leave, then picked up the binoculars. I thought these were in the Land-Rover.
I was just checking them, I said. They seemed a bit out of focus last time I used them. Theyre all right, though.
I waved at the laden table. Ill clean up here.
She got ready to leave, then picked up the binoculars. I thought these were in the Land-Rover.
I was just checking them, I said. They seemed a bit out of focus last time I used them. Theyre all right, though.
Then Ill take them, she said.
I went with her down to the garage and kissed her goodbye. She looked at me closely, and said, Everything is all right, isnt it, Alan?
Of course; why do you ask?
I dont really know. Im just being feminine, I suppose. See you in Akureyri.
I waved her off and watched as she drove away. Nobody seemed to bother; no heads popped around corners and no one followed in hot pursuit. I went back into the flat and checked on the watcher in the alley. He wasnt to be seen, so I made a mad dash for the upstairs landing from where I could get a better view and I breathed easier when I saw him leaning against the wall, beating his hands against his arms.
It would seem that he was not aware that Elin had left or, if he was, he didnt care. It lifted a considerable load off my mind.
I washed the breakfast crockery and then went to my room where I took a camera bag and emptied it of its contents. Then I took the hessian-covered steel box and found that it fitted neatly into the leather bag. From now on it was not going to leave my person until I handed it over in Akureyri.
At ten oclock I rang for a taxi and left for the airport, a move which resulted in some action. I looked back along the street and saw a car draw up near the alley into which my watcher jumped. The car followed the taxi all the way to the airport, keeping a discreet distance.
On arrival I went to the reservation counter. I have a reservation on the flight to Akureyri. My name is Stewart.
The receptionist checked a list. Oh, yes; Mr Stewart. She looked at the clock. But youre early.
Ill have a coffee, I said. It passes the time.
She gave me the ticket and I paid for it, then she said, Your luggage is weighed over there.
I touched the camera case. This is all I have. I travel light.
She laughed. So I see, Mr Stewart. And may I compliment you on how you speak our language.
Thank you. I turned and saw a recognized face lurking close by my watcher was still watching. I ignored him and headed for the coffee-counter where I bought a newspaper and settled down to wait.
My man had a hurried conversation at the reservation counter, bought a ticket, and then came my way and both of us ignored each other completely. He ordered a late breakfast and ate ravenously, his eyes flicking in my direction infrequently. Presently I had a stroke of luck; the announcement loudspeaker cleared its throat and said in Icelandic, Mr Buchner is wanted on the telephone. When it repeated this in fluent German my man looked up, got to his feet, and went to answer the call.
At least I could now put a name to him, and whether the name was accurate or not was really immaterial.
He could see me from the telephone-box and spoke facing outwards as though he expected me to make a break for it. I disappointed him by languidly ordering another coffee and becoming immersed in a newspaper account of how many salmon Bing Crosby had caught on his latest visit to Iceland.
In airport waiting lounges time seems to stretch interminably and it was a couple of eons before the flight to Akureyri was announced. Herr Buchner was close behind me in the queue and in the stroll across the apron towards the aircraft, and he chose a seat on the aisle just behind me.
We took off and flew across Iceland, over the cold glaciers of Langjökull and Hofsjökull, and soon enough we were circling over Eyjafjördur preparatory to landing at Akureyri, a city of fully ten thousand souls, the metropolis of Northern Iceland. The aircraft lurched to a halt and I undid my seat-belt, hearing the answering click as Buchner, behind me, did the same.
The attack, when it came, was made with smoothness and efficiency. I left the airport building and was walking towards the taxi rank when suddenly they were all about me four of them. One stood in front of me and grabbed my right hand, pumping it up and down while babbling in a loud voice about how good it was to see me again and the enormous pleasure it would give him to show me the marvels of Akureyri.
The man on my left crowded hard and pinned my left arm. He put his mouth close to my ear, and said in Swedish, Dont make trouble, Herr Stewartsen; or you will be dead. I could believe him because the man behind me had a gun in my back.
I heard a snip and turned my head just as the man on my right cut through the shoulder-strap of the camera case with a small pair of shears. I felt the strap snake loose and then he was gone and the camera case with him, while the man behind me took his place with one arm thrown carelessly over my shoulder and the other digging the gun into my ribs.
I could see Buchner standing by a taxi about ten yards away. He looked at me with a blank face and then turned and bent to get into the car. It drove away and I saw the white smudge of his face as he looked through the back window.
They kept up the act for two minutes more to give the man with the camera case time to get clear, and the man on my left said, again in Swedish, Herr Stewartsen: were going to let you go now, but I wouldnt do anything foolish if I were you.
They released me and each took a step away, their faces hard and their eyes watchful. There were no guns in sight but that didnt mean a damn thing. Not that I intended to start anything; the camera case was gone and the odds were too great anyway. As though someone had given a signal they all turned and walked away, each in a different direction, and left me standing there. There was quite a few people around but not one of the good people of Akureyri had any idea that anything untoward had just happened in their line of sight.
I felt ruffled so I straightened my jacket and then took a taxi to the Hotel Vardborg. There wasnt anything else to do.
IV
Elin had been right; I was in time to lunch at the Vardborg. I had just stuck my fork into the mutton when Herr Buchner walked in, looked around and spotted me, and headed in my direction. He stood on the other side of the table, twitched his moustache, and said, Mr Stewart?
I leaned back. Well, if it isnt Herr Buchner! What can I do for you?
My name is Graham, he said coldly. And Id like to talk to you.
You were Buchner this morning, I said. But if I had a name like that Id want to change it, too. I waved him towards a chair. Be my guest I can recommend the soup.
He sat down stiffly. Im not in the mood for acting straight man to your comedian, he said, extracting his wallet from his pocket. My credentials. He pushed a scrap of paper across the table.
I unfolded it to find the left half of a 100-kronur banknote. When I matched it against the other half from my own wallet the two halves fitted perfectly. I looked up at him. Well, Mr Graham; that seems to be in order. What can I do for you?
You can give me the package, he said. Thats all I want.
I shook my head regretfully. You know better than that.
He frowned. What do you mean?