The Day is Dark Read online

  ‘Aren’t we ever going to get out of here?’ Eyjólfur was sitting on his haunches against the wall, beneath an erasable message board. Written on it were a few words connected with arrows that doubtless meant a great deal to those in the know, but to Thóra they were meaningless. ‘I’m in deep shit if I can’t get back to work soon. I heard we were supposed to go home on the 24th. And that’s tomorrow.’

  ‘Don’t worry.’ Thóra stood up and walked to the window. Personally she was going crazy hanging around like this. ‘I’m sure they’ll understand. It’s not as though you’re bunking off or pretending to be ill.’ She glanced out of the corner of her eye at Bella, who caught a mysterious flu every month, especially on Mondays and Tuesdays. Bella acted as if she didn’t notice and continued playing Solitaire at the table.

  Dr Finnbogi walked into the room. It looked to Thóra as if he’d changed his clothes, and his hair appeared wet. He said hello to everyone but asked Thóra and Matthew to confer with him privately. Friðrikka watched them as they went off to the corridor, her expression suggesting that she had an inkling they were discussing something more sinister than water samples.

  ‘It’s two men.’ Finnbogi ran his fingers through his hair and shut his eyes momentarily. ‘I managed to put the parts together, more or less, although I could reassemble them more comprehensively if I was working in better conditions than on a bunch of cafeteria tables. As far as I could see, it was the two drillers. They weren’t Greenlanders, at least.’

  ‘Where were they found?’ Matthew seemed alarmed, just like Thóra. While the men had been missing there had still been hope, albeit weak, that they were alive somewhere. Now that illusion was unsustainable.

  ‘On a nearby island. It appears to be connected to the mainland, but that’s because the water level has gone down in the surrounding bay. The dogs found a trail that led there. At first the search party thought they had caught the scent of something else there, but the body parts soon came to light from beneath the snow.’

  ‘What scent?’ asked Matthew. ‘What else was there?’

  ‘A lot of bones. Animal bones, not human, thankfully. Throughout the summer and autumn sled dogs are kept there, while there’s no snow and ice. During those periods the dogs are just a burden and it’s better to have them running free on an island than chained up in the village. They come through the summer in much better shape that way. Their owners throw them meat from boats once or twice a week, which explains all the bones. Apparently it’s quite normal, since the police all appear to accept this explanation.’

  ‘And were the men just found lying among these bones?’ Thóra was still clinging to the idea that a polar bear had killed the drillers.

  ‘No, they’d been left by some rocks in the middle of the island. The police officer who assisted me said it was clear that the person who put them there had intended the dogs to erase all the evidence in the spring. They eat not just the flesh but all the bones too, when they’re hungry enough, and dogs that are only fed about once a week must get terribly hungry as the week goes by. Not to mention the fact that these creatures are much more wolf than dog.’

  ‘What about Oddný Hildur?’ asked Matthew. ‘Did they find any trace of her?’

  Finnbogi shook his head. ‘No. But it’s not out of the question that she’s there. Some parts of the men’s bodies are still missing, so maybe she’ll turn up when they go back and investigate the scene again.’

  ‘Isn’t it most likely that they fell prey to predators?’ Thóra wished that this were the case; it would be easier for everyone to accept that conclusion, quite apart from the fact that it would strengthen the bank’s position in its contractual negotiations with Arctic Mining. ‘Maybe this place by the rocks was a kind of larder. I know many animals store food if they don’t eat everything they catch.’

  ‘No. Animals didn’t kill these men.’ The doctor seemed quite certain of this. ‘They were cut to pieces by an edged weapon; the wounds were far too clean for them to have been torn apart. My gut feeling is that the video we saw shows the crime being committed. I can’t for the life of me understand how someone could do such a thing.’

  ‘And what does that mean? That someone from the village killed them? There was no one else around here – not that we know of, anyway.’ Matthew was obviously as stunned by this news as Thóra. His brow was deeply furrowed.

  ‘No, I really don’t think so. I doubt that the villagers killed the men.’

  ‘Then who?’ Thóra couldn’t imagine who could have come here and found himself compelled to kill anyone who got in his way.

  ‘No one. My theory is that they died from some kind of disease or poisoning. It’ll be determined conclusively in the autopsy. There are no wounds visible on the whole body parts in places that could actually cause death. They didn’t suffer head wounds, or knife wounds in the lungs or other organs, and there are no bullet wounds or anything that could have caused internal bleeding. Nor are there any signs that the men bled to death. On the other hand, I found specific marks that suggest a serious infection of their respiratory tracts and mucous membranes, but like everything else revealed by such a hurried examination, these findings may well differ from the ultimate conclusion.’

  ‘Couldn’t there have been fatal wounds in the places where the bodies were cut apart?’ asked Matthew.

  ‘In theory, but these cuts are all at joints, where people can’t be fatally wounded, except when arteries are severed; but as I said, the men didn’t bleed to death.’

  ‘What disease could they have contracted?’ Matthew edged away from the sink in the corner, mindful of what the doctor had said about Legionnaires’ disease in the pipes.

  ‘I’m not exactly sure, but whatever it was it killed the men surprisingly quickly. It is extremely rare for an infection to cause a victim to succumb to death in the short time that appears to have passed between the others abandoning the camp and these two departing this world. I’m wondering whether it might have been poison, or perhaps a very serious case of food poisoning.’ He suddenly looked rather pleased with himself. ‘I assume you’re grateful to me now for having been so uncompromising about the food and drink here in the camp.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said Thóra, annoyed; now was hardly the time to pat himself on the back. ‘But if bacteria or poison killed them, I don’t understand how the bodies ended up dismembered out on an island where dogs are kept.’

  ‘No, I have no idea about that, either. I just know that the bodies have been packed away and no one can come near them without putting on the appropriate protective clothing. We used masks and gloves that I’d brought with me in case something like this came up, but that won’t be enough if this is a deadly disease. For example, I threw away my clothing, and made the police officer do the same. I’m hoping the extreme cold saved the people who gathered up the body parts out on the island. Still, they’re being disinfected at the moment. If this was a virus, we’ve got serious problems. Of two evils, the lesser one would be for the men to have ingested poison accidentally.’

  ‘How would that have happened? Could we have been infected?’ Matthew moved even farther from the sink.

  ‘No, I doubt it. Maybe the person who cut up the bodies, but I can’t be absolutely certain.’

  ‘Why not? Do you think he was wearing protective clothing?’ Thóra couldn’t imagine that the person carrying out his task so energetically in the video had been wearing a white coverall with a hood and plastic mask covering his face. His actions seemed too barbaric for that degree of premeditation.

  ‘I imagine that person is already dead, if what killed the drillers is as deadly as everything seems to suggest. Maybe others have died as well, if he had a family or was in close physical contact with other people. But we would have heard about it, if that were the case. He would have been forced to detail his recent movements if he had admitted himself to a hospital somewhere, and although he would hardly have told anyone that he’d stopped in the wilderness to cut up a co
uple of bodies, he would have named the location in the hope of a quick diagnosis.’ Finnbogi added hurriedly: ‘But I should emphasize that I have nothing more to go on than an external inspection of a couple of dismembered bodies. Proper autopsies need to be performed on them and all sorts of samples tested before we know anything for certain.’

  In other words, Thóra could stop worrying about whether Friðrikka or Eyjólfur would be better suited to identifying the remains. That wouldn’t be happening. She also had enough to contend with, worrying about her own health and that of the others in the group. ‘What about Oddný Hildur? Could she also have been infected by something and died there that night?’

  ‘That could very well be the case,’ replied the doctor. ‘If so, it’s imperative that we discover the mode of transmission. Enough time passed between the two events to make it clear that the disease is not transmitted between humans.’

  ‘But the man in the freezer?’ Matthew was still frowning. ‘Did he also die from some kind of infection?’

  ‘Funny you should ask, Matthew,’ said Finnbogi, smug as ever. ‘They did in fact allow me to examine him more closely, and although there is much to suggest that he died from that huge wound, there’s some likelihood that he suffered the same kind of illness as the other two.’ He shook his head thoughtfully. ‘However, I discovered something quite alarming when I looked at him under better light.’

  Thóra didn’t think Finnbogi was just talking about the giant hole in the man’s chest. ‘What did you find out?’

  ‘The man has been dead for years. Even decades.’

  Chapter 30

  23 March 2008

  Igimaq stood as if petrified, staring into the forbidden area. It repulsed him to stay there for long, but the unrest in his mind prevented him from turning back. The dogs were all whining, each more loudly than the next. They could not understand why they’d been forced to stop in this place, where there was nothing. Only a black hole in the cliff-face where the heart of evil beat. Now it was clearly visible that it was a cave. It became more visible with each year that passed, though at first only a very thin streak of black had distinguished it from the grey surrounding rock. This was the place that people had to be kept away from; the place that pulled anyone who came too close down into the abyss. The spirit would be dragged out of the body leaving behind an empty, hollow carcass, like the sea-conch shells Igimaq discarded after he’d sucked out the meat. But it was not the small cave that disturbed him most. He had seen it many times before and always made sure to keep himself at a suitable distance, like now. No, it was not the expanding opening in the cliff wall that made his heart ache and filled him with despair.

  Usinna’s cairn was gone. Where the low stone pile had been there was now a path that the snow was not able to hide completely. Tyre tracks were visible running up to it, indicating that someone had driven there only a short time ago. Tracks in loose snow, whether from animals, men or vehicles, were blown away like foam on the waves as soon as the breeze picked up, so the biting wind of the preceding days would have made all but the most recent tracks disappear. But it had been longer than that since the cairn had vanished. Igimaq jumped off the sled and took several steps in the direction where it had been. He did not need to rely on landmarks or locate the cairn in any other way. He simply knew where it had been and could never forget it. It was enough for him to see the low stones on both sides out of the corners of his eyes to come to precisely where Usinna had been laid to rest. He stopped there and stared down at his feet. When had this track been laid? He had been here several months earlier to ensure with his own eyes that the people in the camp kept themselves away from this area. He had felt lighter after turning his sled around, not only because he was leaving a place where he felt bad, but also because of the false hope that it raised in his heart, that his lifelong friend Sikki had been true to his word. Igimaq had gone the way of other men – believing what he wanted to believe. Yet he also remembered having considered himself deserving of some honour, since the area was still devoid of human activity at that time; the vandalism he had committed on the equipment that had to be moved out of the dangerous area had perhaps frightened the people away.

  The dogs’ whining grew louder and to Igimaq it sounded as if it were accompanied by a different, human sound, the piteous weeping of tormented souls who had waited more than a man’s lifetime to be freed from the clutches of the land. They wanted to soar with the birds of the sky, watch the land from above; not from within, where eternal darkness ruled like a winter’s night in the farthest corner of the north, but worse, because down under the rock neither moonlight nor stars could mitigate the darkness and make it more tolerable. Maybe it had been the weeping of only one soul; the soul that was closer to his heart than any other. He was not certain, but he had to get away from here. The weeping sounded uncomfortably similar to the beseeching voice of his daughter when she had died here in the sight of her father and brother. The two of them had stood here, in this very same place, trying to ignore her pleas and not let her see that they were on the verge of giving in and extending a helping hand. Igimaq did not regret having stood by and observed from a safe distance, but when Sikki had demanded his presence there he could not conceive of watching his own offspring die from a place of hiding. Of course he could have done it that way – there were enough crags here to hide behind – but his pride had prevented him from watching from out of sight. He was fulfilling his obligations to his ancestors and those who demanded revenge for their deaths. If Igimaq had lost his courage he would have brought an even worse fate upon himself and the village. He could not heal his daughter and sacrifice others. In any case, that would only have been a temporary respite. His daughter bore the mark, and for that she was killed. She would only have dragged him and Naruana to death with her. The message was clear: those upon whom death places his mark will die, and they must do so alone and uncomforted, because any who try to ease their passing will suffer the same fate. And Igimaq had no intention of dying here.

  Now the dogs had fallen quiet in the still, frozen air, and Igimaq could hear every sound. The peace here was very different from the silence around his tent, more complex. The gift of being able to read the unknown was vanishing; just as the ice thinned, the knowledge that had been in this country for centuries was disappearing, and one day, when he and his generation had passed on, it would have melted away as completely as the ice. The silence encouraged him to get moving, not to hang about there any longer than necessary. It told him that the dogs awaited his command and were growing restless and suspicious of his intentions. They wanted to go farther out into the wilderness, run until nothing mattered but the horizon. Igimaq breathed quickly through his nose and looked at the snow-covered track beneath his feet. He would find out later which had happened first, the removal of the cairn or the laying of the track – or whether it had happened at the same time. It didn’t really matter. The damage had already been done. What could not happen had happened. Usinna was gone from the resting place that was supposed to have kept her until there was nothing left of her. The only tiny positive note was that the police had obviously had nothing to do with it. The evidence showed that the track was older than that. In fact only the people at the camp could have removed the cairn.

  The hunter had to remedy this. Usinna had to have her final repose back here, in this place. It was not a question of his opinion – he had given his father his word, and that he could not betray. When, as a young man, he had sworn his oath, it had not occurred either to him or to his father that Igimaq’s own child would end up violating the prohibitions of past generations and call down upon herself the eternal restlessness of her own soul, which would never find a refuge. Usinna was childless, like her brother. As things stood, it seemed unlikely that Naruana would do his duty in that regard, which meant Usinna’s soul had scarcely any hope. Its only escape would be to settle in a newborn child fathered by her brother. Until that happened her bones would have to rest here
in the vicinity of her soul, and also far from the living, to whom she could do many types of harm, even drag them to their death. Igimaq knew this well; wandering souls were to be feared and dreaded. They could not be stopped with a bullet, or even a volley of them. What was already dead could not be killed again. Igimaq wasn’t actually scared of death, nor did he understand those who said they wished to live longer than was natural. To create the conditions for a new life, you had to clear space, and it would soon be his turn. He accepted this completely, but nevertheless wanted to have some say in his own death. He wanted to die as he had lived, under the open sky with his rifle in his hand, in harmony with nature, which could strip him of his flesh after he drew his final breath. He did not want to die with his heart in his throat, fleeing something nameless as it snapped at his heels. That, he could not accept. He would have to bring Usinna back to this place. And he knew how he would go about it. If there was one thing the hunter was good at, it was trading, which he had done from a young age. The people in the camp would get the people they were searching for, or a clue to where they could be found, in exchange for Usinna’s remains. Igimaq let his eyes wander to the entrance of the cave and stared for a moment at the black hole. It looked like the mouth of a monster that had been buried under snow and ice and was now trying to eat its way up from the cold, white hell. He turned on his heel and walked back to the sled. The dogs pricked up their ears and the harness tightened. Igimaq watched them stand up, one after the other, and although he knew they were looking forward to getting moving, he could not avoid the thought that they wanted to get away from there because of something that had crawled out of the cave as soon as he’d turned around and that was now creeping along the snow towards him. He didn’t know what souls looked like, and he didn’t want to find out. And so he chose not to look back, but instead stared at the dogs and took increasingly larger strides towards them and the sled that could carry him away from here, as quickly and safely as possible.