Someone to Watch Over Me tg-5 Read online

  ‘Dinner’s ready.’ The door behind him had opened and in the doorway stood a guard whose name Jósteinn could never remember. ‘Pack up your things; you might not be allowed to continue after dinner.’

  ‘Why not?’ Jósteinn lifted the processor and held it up to the light. He could often salvage parts from a machine that had been dismissed as useless, but this time, unfortunately, he suspected that this wasn’t the case. He needed a processor for the computer he was building. Oh well – the nobodies who got his renovated computers would have to wait a little bit longer this time.

  ‘We’re expecting a man from Prison Services who needs to discuss something with you. Probably the incident with Jakob.’ The man leaned against the doorpost, his arms crossed over his chest. ‘Hurry up.’

  ‘Have you heard whether we might be getting more computers? It’s funny how things don’t seem to get thrown away so much now that we’re in recession. Do you think they’ve been saving much money that way?’

  ‘Get a move on, Jósteinn, or I’ll write you up. You’re a whisker away from losing this job.’

  ‘Fine.’ This was the advantage of being diagnosed as a sociopath; it was clear to those who looked after him that he didn’t care about being punished. So just as he’d suspected, his circumstances hadn’t changed after he’d attacked Jakob. He had carried on rebuilding computers and every day was like the previous one, which was like the one before, and so on. No doubt there would be consequences, but they would be meaningless and only imposed as a formality. He put down the processor and stood up. The smell of food from the kitchen had followed the guard into the room. Hunger was a physical sensation and not connected to his state of mind, which meant he felt it like everyone else. Not all aspects of his humanity had been left out when he was created. ‘What’s for dinner?’

  ‘Lamb stew. Just right in this weather. If you don’t hurry up, all the meat will be finished. Everyone’s famished from lunch today.’ Lunch had been a vegetarian dish that was the Sogn cook’s first attempt to nudge the menu in a healthier direction. The tasteless stodge had been left almost untouched on people’s plates as they left the dining room, bitterly disappointed. Everyone except for Jósteinn, who’d left as hungry as the rest of them, but also very satisfied. His hunger was a diversion. Now, however, he’d got bored of it and would pounce eagerly on his supper. Since he’d attacked Jakob, he had to sit alone at a table far from the other inmates, which suited him just fine. He stood up, pleased at the thought of eating undisturbed by the meaningless chatter of those idiots. ‘Why haven’t you turned off the lamp? You know you’re supposed to do that before you leave the room.’ The guard nodded his broad chin towards the Luxo lamp screwed to the work table.

  ‘I suspect I may be coming back.’ Jósteinn grinned at the floor. ‘It’s unlikely anyone would be coming on official business at this hour. It’s far too late and you don’t want me sitting with the others in the living room tonight. Do you?’ The guard’s silence spoke volumes and Jósteinn smiled wryly. ‘No, I think we both know I’ll be back later.’

  The guard didn’t bother protesting. They were both intelligent men and there was no point arguing a lost cause; everyone knew that Jósteinn was allowed to be there whenever he wanted – even at night. Anyone trying to keep Jósteinn from what he called his work was fighting a losing battle; the fork buried in Jakob’s head was still too fresh in the staff’s minds for them to leave him unsupervised in the company of others. It was easier to let him spend his time messing about in the little workroom. This suited him just fine, and he wished that he’d thought of doing something similar before. He resolved to repeat this tactic every time the staff relaxed their grip. Now all was as it should be; he had everything his own way again, and he could use this lawyer woman to stir up that idiot Ari. It delighted him to think how many others were tangled in his web. Everything was proceeding as planned, and that simpleton Jakob would get what he wanted in the process. That was fine for him, and meant nothing to Jósteinn. ‘It’ll be really great to get my teeth into some meat,’ he said to the guard as he walked past him out into the corridor. His voice was devoid of joy or hope, yet he hadn’t felt this good in years. Wasn’t life wonderful?

  Ari sat in his office and stared at the answering machine, which blinked to indicate the messages awaiting him. The small screen next to the light displayed the figure seventeen. This was certainly a fair number of unanswered calls, but it was far from being the highest figure the device had displayed. He’d already run through the numbers, most of which had also shown up on his mobile phone. In fact, friends and acquaintances had given up calling once he hadn’t answered twice in a row. They knew which way the wind blew. Others who knew him less well were more optimistic. The lawyer, that Thóra who was working on reopening Jakob’s case, had called the office five times, for example, and the same number of calls to his mobile. He would have to come up with some story to feed her, something that would explain why he hadn’t answered his phone for days. He could hardly tell her the truth, but it was rather nice that there were still lawyers out there who didn’t know what he was like.

  But it was still all her fault. Her investigation of Jakob’s case had caused him worries that had eaten away at his self-control little by little, like acid, until he’d headed straight for the cards. He had resolved to stay away from them some time ago, not because he’d been diagnosed as a gambling addict – that had been a huge exaggeration, he had simply enjoyed taking risks – but because he was unlucky by nature. He lost more often than was healthy – always, in fact – and for some incomprehensible reason this lack of luck had been interpreted as addiction. Of course his day would come. It didn’t take much knowledge of probability to see that a huge win was on the horizon. He deserved it. Even though he didn’t remember much beyond the first few hours of this most recent spree, he imagined that it had progressed in the same way as usual: he had gone online to play for a little while in the evening, and before he knew it the night was over and all the winnings that he’d initially accrued had been lost, and far more besides. Now he would sleep for most of the day. When he finally dragged himself out of bed he would try to compensate for the previous night’s loss. And then it would be morning again, and he would have to give in to his fatigue as the jackpot moved a little further into the distance once more. And then the cards would stop working. With tiny gains that only very slightly offset the huge losses, it took him four nights to bankrupt himself.

  Ari didn’t want to contemplate how high his next credit card bills would be; he had never dared to add up all the spending limits on all of his cards. He found the best approach was to throw out his bills unopened, then call the card companies and have his accounts frozen one by one, while negotiating permission to pay the bills monthly until the debt was erased. This payment plan took a long time, and after the króna crashed he had maxed out his cards even more quickly than before. The wretched exchange rate was precisely what made the Internet casinos so exciting now: the stakes felt so much higher than they were before the króna fell.

  He had used up his toothpaste at home some time ago and had to resort to brushing his teeth with water, which clearly wasn’t very effective. He blew vigorously in the hope that his bad breath had gone, but it remained just as foul. The few krónur he had in the firm’s account would be enough for some food and a tube of toothpaste until he was able to pay some of his outstanding bills. He’d better do that shortly; he would log in to his bank account on the Internet to check on its status, but he had accidentally left his ID-code key at home after trying to move some funds across to one of his credit card accounts in the hope that it might be authorized again. It turned out that he had very little to transfer and in any case, a woman at the credit card company had said it would take twenty-four hours to clear. That was too long to wait where Lady Luck was concerned – she seldom visited him, and then always only for a brief period. So the jackpot slipped from his grasp once again. Although he was frustrated about
this, neither that nor the losses of the past few days was his chief concern. Should he call this Thóra or leave it alone? The depression that always overwhelmed him at this point was at its peak, and he couldn’t cope with any bad news.

  What did she want from him? Surely not more files, and probably not advice. No, she must want to ask about something that he would find it difficult to answer; for example, why he hadn’t put up a proper defence in Jakob’s case. It didn’t take a close analysis of the files to see that he hadn’t argued the case with much diligence. He didn’t want to go over it word for word with that self-righteous cow. She would hardly have done much better in his shoes; it wasn’t that easy to stay focused when your life was falling apart. Admittedly, he had the tendency to make mistakes in the courtroom, but this could be attributed to force majeure: circumstances beyond his control that prevented him fulfilling his obligations to his client. In this case it hadn’t been about any natural disaster but a war, a battle royale being waged in his private life. His wife had left him. She’d grown tired of the little apartment that had replaced the elegant family home he’d gambled away, and all his attempts to persuade her to return had come to nothing. He’d needed all his mental energy to deal with her, and when it had come to Jakob’s case, he’d had nothing left. Of course he should have turned down the case, but he had really needed the money – and he’d also found it difficult to refuse the favour. He’d been confident that it would be a quick buck because the case would progress through the judicial system speedily; firstly because the authorities wanted to tie up the case as soon as possible to avoid prolonging the media circus, and secondly because of the accused’s disability – no one had seemed to know what to do with him when the case was in court.

  So why shouldn’t he have taken the case and tried to argue it as best he could under the circumstances? It wasn’t as if his client had had the brains to complain. Nor had he been of any help, spouting nonsense about angels and suitcases and all sorts of other rubbish that was of no use when it came to constructing a defence. In any case, everyone knew what the verdict would be: guilty, but not criminally liable. The judges didn’t need it spoon-fed to them; they only had to look at the defendant. He had confessed, then of course withdrawn his confession in his own peculiar way, then confessed once more. There had been no point in dragging things out, and it was unfair to look only at the court documents when considering the case as a whole. It wasn’t as though the prosecutor’s performance had been any better. Everyone had sped through the hearing, since there had been no reason to extend the suffering of the poor man, who had stared wide-eyed and fearful throughout the proceedings.

  Remembering this made him pluck up his courage and he picked up the phone. It was better to face your demons head on. He dialled Thóra’s number without hesitating, but at the second ring he also considered the idea that it was better to run away from your demons at top speed. At that moment Thóra answered and he stammered, ‘Yes, hi, this is Ari. I see you’ve been trying to reach me.’

  ‘Yes, hello.’ Thóra sounded surprised and it sounded like she was in a car.

  ‘Are you driving? Maybe I should call back later.’

  ‘No, it’s fine. I’ve been trying to reach you, and I’m only the passenger.’

  ‘Was there something in particular you wanted?’

  ‘Yes there was. I came across something that surprised me and I wanted to discuss it with you, to see if by any chance you might be able to explain it.’

  ‘Oh?’ Ari felt his palms sweating.

  ‘Well, actually there are two things. One of them is the fact that you’re related to the father of one of the people who died in the fire: Einvarður Tryggvason.’

  Ari said nothing, but squeezed his eyes shut and licked his dry lips. ‘Yes, we’re distantly related. That had no bearing on anything.’

  ‘Did you notify the judge of this? Or Jakob? I didn’t see a note of it anywhere.’

  ‘Uh, probably.’ Ari swallowed; suddenly his mouth went dry. ‘Yes, I think I probably did.’

  ‘Right.’ Now it was Thóra’s turn to remain silent for a bit. ‘Then I’ll probably find it down at the District Court. I’m sure you recall that according to the 9th Article of the Codex Ethicus of the Icelandic Bar Association, you’re obliged to make your client aware of anything that might have a bearing on your relationship with the opposing party. The article specifically stipulates kinship. It’s also the subject of Article 33 of the Acts on the Treatment of Criminal Cases – fourth paragraph, if you’d like to look it up.’

  ‘Yes, yes. I’ll let you know. I’m sure I did, I think.’ Ari cleared his throat. ‘What was the other thing you wanted to ask about?’

  Thóra didn’t believe for a second that the man was telling the truth, but there was no need to force a confession out of him – it would be easy to prove he was lying by checking up. ‘Well, the person who’s paying for my investigation also appears to be an old client of yours. I’m a bit surprised that you didn’t mention it when we spoke the other day. Jósteinn Karlsson, just in case you’ve forgotten. I understand that you’re also his supervisor, so you must have at least some recollection of the man.’

  Too fucking right I remember him. He interrupted her. ‘I didn’t think it mattered. What gives you the idea that there’s something suspicious about it? Iceland is a small country, as you know, and its legal profession is even smaller.’ Could his luck get any worse? Of all the cases in his long career, this was the one he least wanted to be dragged up again.

  ‘I’ve met Karlsson, of course, and feel I should mention that he insinuated that the reason he initiated this investigation was to stir up trouble for you.’

  ‘That’s strange. No one would be happier than I would if there was new evidence demonstrating Jakob’s innocence. But it comes as no surprise that Jósteinn should be upset with me. People who are dissatisfied with the way their cases turn out usually blame their lawyers for it, as I’m sure you know. It doesn’t seem to occur to any of them that they may be at least partly responsible for how things end up.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Thóra wasn’t convinced. ‘So he has no score to settle with you?’

  ‘No.’ Ari didn’t think he sounded very convincing, so he repeated himself. ‘No.’ It came out just as hollow the second time.

  ‘If I needed to reach you again, when would be the best time to contact you?’

  ‘Uh, in the afternoons.’

  ‘Fine. Thank you for this; I’ll probably be back in touch before too long.’

  ‘Sure.’ Ari did his best to sound nonchalant, but he couldn’t achieve the right tone. When he said goodbye, his palms were just as sweaty as they had been when they’d first started talking. Why had he ever considered calling the woman in the first place?

  Thóra put her phone in her bag and looked at Matthew, who was driving down the street to their house. ‘That was Ari, the lawyer. I’d be willing to bet that he messed up pretty badly in Jósteinn’s case.’ She shut her bag. ‘I’m itching to read through the court documents again.’

  ‘Okay.’ Matthew parked next to Thóra’s parents’ car. ‘And there was I thinking we were going to play a computer game.’

  CHAPTER 31

  Wednesday, 20 January 2010

  The monitor was starting to flicker. It really was time to replace it, though Thóra was not at all keen on the idea, given how expensive everything had become. Ideally the useless hunk of junk would survive for however many months or years it took the króna to recover, but she couldn’t really rely on that happening. She could of course try to buy a used monitor, but she didn’t even know whether that kind of shop existed in Reykjavík. Unless she bought one from Jósteinn… No chance, she thought, shuddering; she would rather pay full price than negotiate a deal with someone who disgusted her. Her tolerance of him had diminished even further after she’d acquainted herself with the details of his crimes.

  Thóra switched off the monitor and went to reception for a cup of coffee.
She didn’t hurry, since it was only instant. Her eyes were dry after poring over the court documents and other files from Jósteinn’s case for far too long the night before. Eventually she’d stopped reading and gone to spend time with her family, including helping Sóley with an essay in English, which was supposed to be light-hearted and autobiographical. Her daughter was obviously extremely happy that they were currently all living together, because her list of family members and her descriptions of them filled several lines. Thóra also noted with interest that the cat had been named first. Sóley had then added that she had a dad every other weekend, but he now had a new wife, who was younger than her mum. Thóra decided to allow Sóley to write what she wanted, even though she was desperately tempted to convince her that the word ‘uglier’ meant younger in English. The essay continued in the same vein until the requisite two pages were filled. By that time, any interest Thóra might have had in perusing the verdict in Jósteinn’s case had dissolved, and for the remainder of the evening she allowed herself the luxury of not thinking for a single moment about either him or Jakob.

  ‘Isn’t there any coffee?’ Thóra stood by the kettle, with an empty cup and an equally empty Nescafé jar. ‘What am I supposed to do, drink tea? You could have let one of us know; I could have dropped into the shop this morning or last night.’

  ‘The coffee didn’t run out yesterday evening. I finished it this morning.’ Bella continued to stare at her monitor and the sound coming from the computer suggested that she was watching a video on YouTube. It was the monitor itself that made Thóra stop for a moment and bite her tongue. It was exactly like her old one, and the same age. Pleased with herself, she walked silently down the office hallway with her cup still in her hand, determined to replace her screen with her secretary’s after Bella had gone home. She was still smiling when she walked past the open door to Bragi’s office.