The Shadow Killer

47

Flóvent learnt about the broken window later that evening, when he phoned the police station on Pósthússtræti to check whether they’d had any reports of unusual goings-on in town. They told him that the policeman who responded to the incident had concluded it was nothing serious. Someone had thrown a stone through the window, but it could hardly be described as a break-in. It wasn’t the first time a window had been smashed there. Two months ago a similar report had come in. Probably just kids messing about. That’s what happened when properties stood vacant for long periods. Sooner or later the little blighters would start chucking stones at the windows. The police wouldn’t have bothered to investigate if it hadn’t involved this particular house.

A quick phone call to the hospital established that Rudolf had been discharged and taken home in an ambulance. He had insisted on it, and the doctors had seen no reason to keep him there under the circumstances. Flóvent gathered from the nurse he talked to that Rudolf had been helped by his maid, who was going to make sure that he didn’t lack for anything. Flóvent assumed this must be the girl he had spoken to at the house.

Flóvent also put through a call to the prison on Skólavördustígur. Brynhildur Hólm had received two visits since he last saw her, from the same lawyer in both cases. She had taken his advice about hiring one.

It was late, and Flóvent was alone in the Fríkirkjuvegur offices, thinking about the broken window, when he heard a sound outside in the corridor. He stood up and was about to step out to investigate when a man appeared in the doorway. It was Arnfinnur, his old colleague. As they shook hands, Flóvent was privately astonished by the visit. Arnfinnur had never come to CID before. He was a tall, lean man, with a face tanned by the summer sun, and a firm handshake.

‘I saw a light in your window,’ he said, ‘and thought I’d look in.’

Flóvent recognised this at once for a lie but didn’t call him out on it. Lying didn’t come easily to an honest man like Arnfinnur, and Flóvent wondered why he didn’t simply tell the truth: that his business was of the sort that required a clandestine meeting after hours. He suspected that it was connected with Winston Churchill’s possible visit. Arnfinnur could have rung but obviously regarded it as risky to discuss such matters over the phone.

‘Are you making any headway with your investigation?’ Arnfinnur asked, taking a seat and surveying the office.

‘We’re following up various leads,’ said Flóvent. ‘And gradually making progress.’

‘I heard a rumour that this man you’re looking for — this Felix Lunden — may be a spy. Is there any truth in that?’

‘It’s possible.’

‘What, so he’s been supplying the Germans with information about the defence force? About the construction of the base in Hvalfjördur? About Icelandic shipping?’

‘We can’t rule it out. We haven’t found a radio transmitter yet, but it’s possible he’s been passing on messages to German U-boats off the coast. It’s all part of the investigation. But tell me about Churchill. Is he coming here?’

‘Why haven’t you arrested the suspect — this Felix — yet?’

‘Because so far he’s evaded capture,’ said Flóvent, omitting to mention that he had come within an inch of nabbing him at Rudolf Lunden’s surgery.

‘I hear you’re detaining a woman from the Lunden household.’

‘The housekeeper, yes, that’s right. We’re putting pressure on her, but it’s not clear how much she knows about Felix Lunden’s activities. However, we do know that she’s been helping him since the murder. Hiding him. Mind you, I’m pretty sure she’s doing it out of loyalty rather than anything more sinister. They kept his father, Rudolf, in the dark. Or so she claims.’

‘If,’ said Arnfinnur, ‘the visit you mentioned happens — and I should stress that we know nothing about it — would Felix Lunden pose a threat to the safety of the visitor?’

‘No, I don’t think so. There’s nothing to suggest that. Are you worried? Have you heard rumours?’

‘No,’ said Arnfinnur emphatically. ‘I just wanted to check with you. Have you had any contact with a man called Major Graham from the US intelligence department? I believe he’ll be in charge of security. If the visit happens.’

‘Thorson — who’s working alongside me on behalf of the military police — has been in touch with a Major Graham at the Leper Hospital.’

‘Well, he’s to be informed the instant you lay your hands on Felix. Will you bear that in mind?’

‘Have they been leaning on you? Graham and his men?’

‘We’re always being leant on, Flóvent, you know that.’

Arnfinnur rose to his feet. ‘They’re extremely anxious for this man to be apprehended, and from what I hear they’re poised to intervene at any minute.’

‘There’s absolutely no need.’

‘Maybe. But they think you’re not getting anywhere. They want to take over the investigation themselves — and start getting pretty heavy-handed. They want a house-to-house search. More people arrested and interrogated. Radio transmitters tracked down and communications intercepted. They’re getting increasingly impatient. You’d better bear that in mind. They don’t believe we can handle the case. They think we’re bumbling amateurs, especially when it comes to investigating cases of espionage. They point out that we have no experience with the latter.’

‘Fortunately, in my opinion.’

‘Yes, perhaps. I’m guessing they’re jittery in case the visit actually comes off. The last thing they want is for the Germans to get wind of it. They’re afraid for the great man’s safety. You’re to keep them informed.’

Flóvent watched Arnfinnur leave and was about to head home himself when the phone rang. It was Thorson, calling to tell him about his conversations with Vera and Billy. He had no grounds to request their detention as there was no direct proof that they had plotted to kill Eyvindur. Flóvent told him, in turn, what he had dug up about a boy called Ríkhardur who had been at school with Felix, and the news that Felix might have played a part in the tragic accident that led to the boy’s death.

Flóvent was just about to hang up when he remembered the broken window. They discussed it briefly, then agreed that they had better look into it and arranged to meet at the scene.

A few minutes later they were standing outside the German consulate on Túngata, looking up at the round window. Thorson still had the keys from their last visit. The broken pane was in a small cellar window round the back of the building. It had been reported by the people who lived next door. As soon as they shone their torches on it, Flóvent and Thorson realised this wasn’t a case of kids throwing stones: there had been a break-in.

‘The lazy so-and-so,’ said Flóvent, ‘he obviously didn’t bother to investigate at all.’ He examined the traces by the cellar window: the obvious footprints and signs that someone had lain down by the window and squeezed through it.

‘You mean the police officer who was sent to check this out?’

‘If he even bothered to come round,’ said Flóvent, peering in through the window.

‘See anything?’

‘It looks like the boiler room. There’s some rubbish on the floor.’

They walked round to the front of the house and Thorson unlocked the door. They entered the hall, then headed straight down the stairs to the cellar and found the door of the boiler room open. A mattress had been dragged inside and placed next to the old coal-burning boiler, with a Nazi flag and curtains serving as bedclothes. There were some leftovers — stale bread and raw potatoes — on the floor. But they couldn’t find any clue to the identity of the mysterious visitor who had been living in Werner Gerlach’s cellar.

‘Could it be a tramp?’ asked Flóvent, peering round the room. ‘No one’s keeping an eye on the property any longer.’

‘Maybe,’ said Thorson. ‘Someone might have been camped out here for a while. Made themselves at home.’

‘Wouldn’t we have noticed all this the last time we were here?’

‘I guess.’

‘And shouldn’t there be old brennivín bottles lying around if it’s a tramp?’ said Flóvent. ‘Or meths... or bottles of baking essence?’

‘You’re saying it’s not necessarily a vagrant...?’

Flóvent prodded at the Nazi flag with his toe. ‘It looks more like a hideout than a tramp’s dossing place. Don’t you think?’

‘A hideout? You mean...?’

‘I don’t know, but it’s possible.’

‘You think Felix Lunden broke in here?’

‘It’s no worse a hideout than anywhere else,’ said Flóvent, picking up the flag. ‘Felix doesn’t have many places to turn. Perhaps he reckoned on this being the last place we’d look for him.’

‘Do you think he could still be in the building?’

‘Perhaps we’d better check.’

They embarked on a systematic search of the consulate, starting with the cellar, then the ground floor, opening the doors one after the other, peering into every cupboard and storeroom. They did the same upstairs and in the attic, but it appeared that the uninvited guest had kept to the cellar: they found no trace of him anywhere else in the house.

About half an hour later they were back where they had started, standing by the mattress in the boiler room. Thorson shone his torch into every nook and cranny and eventually the beam caught something in the narrow space behind the boiler. Getting down on his hands and knees, he reached into the space and pulled out a metal tube of toothpaste. Thorson got up again and showed the tube to Flóvent.

‘Isn’t that the brand he was selling?’ Thorson asked.

Written on the tube, which was squeezed flat in the middle, were the words Kolynos Dental Cream. Flóvent unscrewed the lid and sniffed at the toothpaste.

‘Do you think he carried a tube with him?’

‘Why not?’ said Thorson. ‘“For whiter, brighter teeth”.’

Flóvent smiled.

‘Who else could it be?’ Thorson went on. ‘Surely Felix has been hiding here.’

‘We certainly can’t rule it out,’ said Flóvent, screwing the lid back on the tube and putting it in his pocket.

‘You’re right. He must have thought it wouldn’t ever occur to us to look for him here,’ said Thorson.

‘He must be getting pretty desperate,’ said Flóvent. ‘If this was the only place he could find.’