The Day is Dark Page 3

  In the three minutes and twenty-two seconds that the video played, the legs jerked weirdly four times. Just before each time a whistling sound momentarily rose above the buzzing, ending with a muffled thud. Then the legs would jerk, and a dark liquid sprayed across the middle of the frame. Over the years Thóra had found herself forced to watch numerous horror films with her son Gylfi, which is probably why she imagined the worst possible scenario. To her it seemed as if a body were being dismembered, or someone was being killed with an axe or a heavy club. But it couldn’t be the latter, since there was no screaming or any other sound of anguish. There was only the whistling, a thump – and what sounded like the strange crooning of a child. Thóra could distinguish a melody, but could make nothing of the words. Either the child was babbling nonsense or its language was totally alien to her. She reached for her phone and rang Bragi’s extension. ‘Come here for a second,’ she said, squinting as she watched the video for the third time. ‘I need to get your opinion on something.’ She stopped the video and leaned back in her chair, thinking it over. It had clearly been a mistake to say that she would go along, even though she could always change her mind. She looked askance at the paperwork on her desk and glanced at the documents for the name-change case at the top of a thick stack of other papers. She looked back at the computer screen. Judging from the video, this Greenlandic case would certainly be different.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Bragi curiously as he appeared in the doorway. He was a large man with a teddy bear-ish manner who wore his age well. He was wearing a dark suit with a tie, since he was one of the generation of lawyers who thought it brought shame to the profession to dress in comfortable clothes. His orthodoxy, however, was not strong enough to prevent him from loosening the knot of his tie and leaving the top button of his shirt undone, which slightly diminished his respectability.

  ‘Take a look at this,’ said Thóra, pointing to the screen. ‘And tell me what you think is going on there.’ She started the video and pushed the desk chair aside to allow him to come closer for a better view. Bragi enjoyed anything strange, so this should be right up his alley. She waited until it was over and the peculiar chanting had stopped. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘let’s hear it.’

  Bragi’s eyes flashed. ‘If this is related to a divorce, then I have dibs on the case, as the kids say.’ He fumbled for the mouse to replay the video. ‘This is great.’

  Thóra interrupted him and told him the basics about Matthew’s offer and the origin of the video. She watched his smile fade as he realized this probably had nothing to do with a marriage at death’s door. ‘But what do you think this is?’ she asked.

  ‘Best case scenario, assault. Worst, murder,’ replied Bragi, making no attempt to hide his disappointment that this wasn’t a divorce case.

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ said Thóra, exhaling. ‘I don’t know, maybe I should pull out of this one. It’s more than a little bit strange, and much more serious than a loss of insurance money.’

  ‘Well, that depends on how high the insurance is,’ said Bragi. ‘There are tables showing individuals’ monetary worth, so if the poor fellow has been called from this life, we could certainly set the nominal value placed on loss of life against the amount of insurance lost, and measure which is considered more severe.’ He thought for a moment and then added: ‘We would certainly need additional information, like gender, age and education, to make more precise calculations.’

  Thóra grimaced. ‘I know that,’ she said, irritated at Bragi’s bad taste. ‘I’m mainly wondering now whether it would be safe for me to make this trip. What if the video was shot at the camp?’

  ‘I wouldn’t read too much into it,’ said Bragi, patting her shoulder. ‘This could have been anything, and shot anywhere. Even at a fitness centre.’

  ‘I doubt many people wear woolly socks at the gym,’ said Thóra. ‘And what kind of exercise do you call that?’

  ‘God only knows,’ said Bragi. ‘From what I know, all sorts of things go on at those places. I have a divorce case that all started at a fitness centre. The husband became obsessed with his body and completely forgot about his wife and children. It wouldn’t surprise me if this loser put up with that treatment in the hope of increasing his muscle quantity.’

  ‘Muscle mass,’ corrected Thóra, without thinking.

  ‘That’s what I mean,’ said Bragi. He looked Thóra in the eye. ‘I’m getting mixed up with all these digressions. The main point of all this is that for us it opens a door to the banks. Up until now they’ve had their own lawyers, or looked to the big firms. This could be the start of some excellent business opportunities for us. Not to mention the changes that you’re longing for so much.’

  Thóra nodded thoughtfully. Naturally, this could be of advantage to the firm and the bank could possibly become a great source of income for them in the future, but she thought it more probable that the bank had simply opted out of the Greenland trip and that this would be a one-off. When it came to other cases that could be handled at a normal pace, there would be no reason for the bank to seek their assistance. On the other hand, clouds had been gathering over the nation’s economy, and even though Thóra didn’t follow the financial sector that closely she hadn’t missed hearing about the attacks of foreign hedge funds on the Icelandic króna and the dubious position of various large Icelandic enterprises. Concepts no one had understood, much less used, a month ago were now on everyone’s lips, most noticeably terms like ‘short selling’ and ‘cross-ownership’. Thóra suspected that her eight-year-old daughter could explain these concepts now. This trend also suggested strongly that more hardship lay ahead, which often meant increased work for lawyers, particularly in debt collection. No matter how dismal she found collecting, it was more than likely that they would happily accept such cases if the economy froze. Chances were that this video was just some nonsense from the Internet, completely irrelevant to the employees of Berg Technology. ‘I’ll think about it,’ said Thóra. ‘It’s best if I look into this a little further, and if this video turns out to be showing what we both think it might, then this is definitely out of my sphere. We’d need to call the police.’

  ‘The Greenlandic police?’ said Bragi. ‘You might as well ask your neighbourhood sports’ association to undertake research on fundraising.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Thóra exclaimed. ‘Is something wrong with them?’ She interrupted herself. ‘And anyway, what would you know about the police, or anything else in Greenland? You’ve never even been there.’

  ‘No, maybe not, but everyone knows the situation there is absolutely dreadful. The police aren’t immune to it, no more than anyone.’

  ‘Dreadful’ was a word Thóra’s mother used frequently when she was fretting over something, and Thóra couldn’t help but smile. ‘In any case the police here in Iceland need to be informed about this. Then they can put themselves in touch with their colleagues over in that dreadful Greenland.’

  Suddenly Bragi’s eyes widened. ‘Listen,’ he said heartily, ‘you should take Bella with you! She’ll look after you, and besides, she’s completely expendable for that short amount of time. There are a lot of different traditions and customs in Greenland and I’m sure it will be good to have her along under those circumstances.’

  Bella was more likely to trip Thóra up straight into the jaws of a polar bear than come to her rescue. ‘Matthew will be there, so I’m sure I’ll be safe. I don’t need her,’ said Thóra, grinning. Then she hurriedly added: ‘If in fact I go.’

  ‘Yes, my dear, you should go, and it won’t do you any harm to take Bella along,’ said Bragi, clearly enthralled with his own idea. ‘It would even help me out if she weren’t here for the next few days, since I have to take care of so many cases. It would be a great relief to be free of her.’

  ‘There’s no room for Bella on the plane,’ Thóra lied. ‘Just do what you were thinking the other day, and put up a partition so you don’t have to see or hear her.’ She stood u
p. ‘I’m going to go and talk to the head of the bank about this,’ she said, to put an end to the conversation about Bella. ‘I’ll make my final decision afterwards.’

  ‘And?’ asked Matthew curiously as he followed her out of the bank. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m inclined to take the job. But still . . . oh, I don’t know,’ replied Thóra. The head of the bank had turned out to have several years, if not decades, to go before he could live up to his job title. He was in fact a slender young man who smelled so strongly of aftershave that it had taken all Thóra’s willpower not to pinch her nose shut as they spoke. She suspected the overapplication was deliberate; his palms were sweaty and he appeared nervous. It was easy to read between the lines and guess that his future at the bank hung on the same thread as the insurance. If the bank had to pay the insurance, he would be handed his marching orders. It seemed there was much more to this case than just the insurance money; there were great expectations for the mine in Greenland, even though there hadn’t been much public discussion about it. It was hoped that it would be serviced from Iceland, since the closest town with an airport was Ísafjörður. This could lead to more jobs that would both directly and indirectly serve the mine, but these teething troubles had not inspired the locals to put their trust in this big company. It could also be the case that political interests were threatening the young man’s position. However, he wasn’t all bad; Thóra was quite pleased with much of what she heard, especially the fact that he had informed the police about the situation and requested that they do what they could to persuade the Greenlandic authorities to intervene. The bank’s interests were not high on the police department’s list of priorities. The idea behind the group’s expedition was to survey the situation and try as hard as possible to minimize the damage if everything had gone completely awry, so that Berg Technology would be released from its contract. The equipment and tools belonging to the contractors needed to be inspected and the status of the research evaluated so that the bank could either get another contractor to take over, or persuade the employees to return to the site. According to the young man this was not out of the question; the group had been gripped by mass hysteria but, more often than not, these things passed when common sense returned. If, on the other hand, there really was something unusual about the situation at the site, information pertaining to it would have to be gathered. This would help the bank to demonstrate that conditions were extraordinary and therefore outside the company’s control: in short, they could invoke force majeure.

  This term kindled Thóra’s interest in the case. Force majeure meant that the parties to the contract could be freed from their obligations if they were unable to fulfil them due to circumstances beyond their control. This included war, workers’ strikes and earthquakes, or anything else that the parties to the contract could not influence. Thóra was well aware that no war was being fought in Greenland, and nor had she heard of any natural disasters or strikes there, either recently or in the past. This was what pricked her curiosity: there was a definite challenge involved in evaluating a situation in search of what could be considered uncontrollable. Crimes could be categorized under force majeure, and considering the video it was possible that might be the case here; however, that was not at all a given, making this an even more exciting legal issue. And there were other factors involved: whoever did not fulfil his obligations had to demonstrate that he had tried everything within his power to minimize the impact of external factors. In this case, determining such a thing could prove to be more challenging than pinpointing the actual phenomenon that had prevented the party from fulfilling its contract. Was this not precisely what she had craved so much – that very morning, in fact? A challenging case that wouldn’t make her yearn to throw her pen at her client’s head in fury?

  ‘I’ll come,’ she told him, without considering the matter any further. As soon as she said it she felt a definite sense of relief and anticipation. She actually also felt troubled, but pushed that feeling aside.

  Matthew stopped for a moment in the elegant lobby of the bank’s headquarters. He hurriedly stepped away when he realized that he was standing in the middle of the entrance and that the large automatic glass plate doors were about to close on him. ‘Really?’ Now it was his turn to have doubts. ‘You realize it’s going to be a difficult trip – it’s a real wilderness of ice and snow there.’

  Thóra was certainly aware of the snow. It was what was not there that attracted her most. Boring, routine cases. This would be different; that was for sure.

  ‘What colour are Greenlanders?’ asked Sóley, yawning. She was lying in bed and should have been asleep long ago, but in the light of her impending trip, Thóra had decided to ignore her daughter’s normal bedtime. She kissed the girl’s blonde head.

  ‘They’re just like us, darling. Not green, if that’s what you think.’

  ‘Mummy,’ said her daughter indignantly, ‘I know that. I meant whether they were yellow like Chinese people or something like that.’

  ‘Chinese people aren’t yellow any more than the Independents are blue,’ said Thóra, smoothing down the pink duvet cover.

  ‘What?’ asked Sóley, who knew as much about politics as any other eight-year-old child.

  Thóra merely smiled at her. ‘You’ll behave yourself at Daddy’s while I’m gone, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, if you bring back a nice present for me,’ replied Sóley, smiling. ‘Sweeties, too.’

  There must be sweets in Greenland. ‘I’ll buy something,’ answered Thóra. ‘Maybe a polar bear cub.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Sóley, excitedly. ‘A real one.’

  ‘Well, I meant a teddy bear,’ said Thóra, patting one of the many soft toys lying on the bed. She prepared to stand up. ‘It’s much too late. Try to sleep now.’

  ‘A dog?’ implored Sóley, taking her mother’s hand, and Thóra shook her head out of old habit. Sóley piped up at least once a day about getting a pet. More often on weekends. ‘Why not? Gylfi got to have a baby – why can’t I have a puppy or kitten?’

  ‘Good night,’ said Thóra, standing up from the bedside. ‘We’ll wake up at the same time in the morning, you’ll go to school and Mummy will go to the airport. I’ll try to call you when you’ve got to Daddy’s, but I can’t promise that it will work.’ She responded in advance to the question that would inevitably follow: ‘There are phones in Greenland, but I don’t know if they work where I’ll be. They might be broken.’

  After switching off the light in the pink room and staring for a few moments at the numerous glittering teddy bear eyes, Thóra went out to the garage. She had no rucksack, as Matthew had recommended she bring – a suitcase would have to do. Things became more complicated, however, when it came to what she should pack. No one knew how long she would be there or what the conditions would be like; it was best just to take a bloody big pile of clothes. The doorbell rang, forcing Thóra to put aside any further thoughts on packing. Her friend Gugga was standing in front of the house, smiling from ear to ear and waving two bottles of white wine. ‘You’ve got to let me in,’ she said as Thóra opened the door, as though Thóra were in the habit of slamming the door in visitors’ faces. ‘I just bought a new car and really want to celebrate it with someone.’ Thóra could think of a number of ways to celebrate the purchase of a new car without alcohol being involved, but she smiled nonetheless. She was well aware that the car had probably been bought with the highest loan Gugga could get, and that after six months her friend would show up at her door, again with bottles in hand, to drown her sorrows over the sea of debt she was in and her repossessed car. Sometimes one had to live in the here and now and indulge oneself in the spirit of Louis XIV. He would probably have taken advantage of a car loan if such things had existed in his day.

  So there was to be no packing until later, when Gugga finally left in a taxi. Around that time Thóra was starting to see double, and when she dozed off, exhausted from the effort of trying to shut the ove
rstuffed suitcase, it was impossible for her to recall what she’d thrown into it.

  Chapter 3

  19 March 2008

  The coffee at Reykjavík City Airport was quite good, even though it was simply called ‘coffee’ and came not from a gleaming chrome machine that spouted steam like a locomotive as it brewed one cup at a time, but an old coffeepot standing on a hot plate, reflecting the style of the tired old terminal. You’d have to go a long way to find such an old-fashioned brewing method in town, where the fancy machines had taken over everywhere. Thóra had even received one of the newfangled contraptions as a Christmas present from her parents. On Christmas Eve she had gulped down immoderate amounts of coffee without realizing that the new coffee was much stronger than the weak liquid she was used to. All that night she lay stiffly with her eyes wide open, barely able to blink, much less sleep. Since then the coffeemaker had been collecting dust. However, now Thóra would not have objected to a double espresso from her machine to perk her up; her head was throbbing and her mental abilities were a wreck. An overly large dose of coffee would probably help.