The Silence of the Sea

Chapter 27

The heavens absorbed the white trail left behind by the jet. Despite its great altitude, the plane’s wings and outline were just visible, unless it was his imagination filling in the gaps. No doubt the airliner was full of people; some on holiday, others travelling for work. Ægir envied every single one of them. They were in paradise compared to the hell that reigned here on board the yacht. He shaded his eyes against the sun. It was strangely unsettling to watch the jet recede into the distance, taking with it his foolish dream of salvation coming from on high. Dropping his hand, he looked down.

‘Daddy.’ Bylgja was tugging at the sleeve of his jumper. He had no idea how long she had been doing this but her insistence suggested it had been some time. His dry eyes stung as he looked down at her. Never in his life had he been as mentally and physically exhausted. ‘Daddy. Your lips are bleeding.’

Ægir licked his split lips and tasted iron. No wonder his mouth was dry; it was hours since he had drunk anything. This was not from any shortage of things to drink, as he had ferried a large supply of cans and bottled water down to the cabin before barricading himself inside with the girls. It was simply that he felt neither thirst nor hunger. There was no room for such sensations when his heart was in a thumbscrew that had been tightened to breaking point. His exhaustion didn’t help. How long had he been awake? He couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter. If it hadn’t been for the girls he would have thrown himself overboard and become one with the sea, but for their sake he couldn’t allow himself that way out. He had to ensure that they reached home safely. And for that he needed to stay awake, which is why they were now standing on deck in the last rays of the evening sunlight.

He had been so overcome by drowsiness in the airless cabin that a quick trip outside had been essential. He took in a great lungful of sea air and closed his eyes. Fog stole into his mind, as if a curtain had been drawn, concealing all the terrible thoughts that had been plaguing him so relentlessly.

‘Daddy. Daddy. You mustn’t fall asleep.’ He couldn’t tell which twin was speaking. ‘Daddy!’

Ægir started and opened his eyes wide. The fresh air was supposed to have had the opposite effect, to wake him up and invigorate him, not knock him out. ‘I’m awake.’ It wasn’t working. He would have to find another way of warding off the beguiling drowsiness. If he had been able to trust Halli or Thráinn he would have asked if they had any stimulants in the medicine chest for use in emergencies. But this was merely another example of irrational thinking caused by fatigue, for if he could have trusted either of them, he wouldn’t need to keep vigil – they could take it in turns to rest. ‘Let’s go. That’s enough.’

‘Do we have to go below again?’ Arna’s face was a picture of dread. ‘What if the ship sinks?’

‘It won’t.’ Ægir was too tired to be kind or understanding. He was desperately sorry about this, aware that they needed him to be a father, not just a bodyguard, but he couldn’t perform both roles. He would trust himself to stay awake for the rest of the voyage but not to give free rein to his emotions. If he did he would fall to pieces. ‘Come on. We can watch a DVD.’

‘We’ve watched all the films we’re allowed to.’ Bylgja sounded close to tears but this did not stem from the limited selection of videos, as Ægir was well aware. He couldn’t discuss the loss of their mother with them now, though. Later he would have time to choose the right words and arrange them into sentences designed to provide solace for their grief. But for now such a task was beyond him. He had explained that their mother had died as the result of an accident and that they would have to be brave. He had stressed that they must bear up until they reached port but after that they would deal with their grief together and face the future without Mummy. It was all he was capable of in that moment. The tears had poured down their small cheeks but his daughters had shown a self-control far beyond their years. No doubt they sensed how much was at stake. ‘I don’t want to watch the grown-up films.’ Bylgja smothered a sob.

‘Then we’ll just watch the funniest one again.’ Ægir scanned their surroundings, suddenly apprehensive about going below. He hadn’t been aware of Thráinn or Halli on their way up, or during the short time they had been standing outside on the lower deck, in a corner where no one could creep up on them from behind. The yacht was making good speed, but that did not necessarily mean that the bridge was manned. The men could be anywhere and if either of them wanted to harm him and the girls, they would make an easy target on their way below. Then again, perhaps only one of the men was left alive. Or neither. He desperately regretted his foolish decision to leave the cabin. If anything, it had only exhausted him further.

‘We’ll have to find something else to do. If I watch another film I’ll start thinking. And I don’t want to think.’ Bylgja gazed at her father and he didn’t have the heart to contradict her. He felt exactly the same.

‘Would you like to do some colouring?’ If they said no to this, Ægir didn’t know what else to suggest. He was impressed he’d even managed to come up with that. His eyelids began to droop again.

‘Yes, please.’ Bylgja put her hand in his and squeezed. ‘Don’t go to sleep, Daddy.’

‘The colouring books aren’t in our cabin.’ Arna grabbed Ægir’s other hand and he tightened his grip in an attempt to communicate all he wanted to say to them.

‘Where are they?’

‘In the saloon.’ Arna broke off. ‘Where Mummy is.’ Her fingers writhed in his hand. ‘I want to see her. To kiss her goodbye. So does Bylgja.’ Their eyes, fixed on him, were full of anxiety and Ægir detected a hint of fear as well. It was hardly surprising in the circumstances, but what shocked him was that they appeared to be afraid of him. He must look like a madman.

‘We can’t go in there.’ He spoke without thinking. ‘It’s impossible. Anyway, Mummy isn’t there any more.’

‘Where is she then?’ Large, heavy tears began to slide down Bylgja’s cheeks again. He opened his mouth but no words came out. If Lára was no longer lying where she had died, he had no idea where her body could have been taken. He didn’t even know what Thráinn and Halli had done with Loftur’s body, but they were probably stored in the same place. He felt dizzy at the thought of them lying somewhere side by side, Lára and Loftur. ‘Will she be thrown in the sea, Daddy, like the woman we saw falling, or Loftur?’

‘No.’ It felt as if his insides had turned to stone and were now slowly cracking. Soon they would disintegrate, leaving nothing behind but dust. He almost looked forward to it.

‘We want to kiss her goodbye if she’s going to be thrown overboard, Daddy. Or we’ll never get another chance.’ The tears were still flowing silently, making Bylgja’s whole face shiny.

‘Come on.’ It was as if their words finally had a galvanising effect on him and abruptly his fatigue was gone. What had he been thinking of? Where was the gun, for example? And was he really going to leave the body of his wife, the mother of his daughters, to those psychopaths? Not in a million years.

‘What if the men come, Daddy?’ Arna dug her heels in but Ægir dragged her along with him regardless. ‘You said we should hide from them.’ She had started to cry too, but unlike her sister she allowed herself to make a noise. No doubt she was torn between fear for her own safety and the longing to see her mother one last time.

‘It’ll be all right. I promise.’ Ægir had to let go of their hands in order to open the door. Ushering the girls inside, he closed it quietly behind them. Then he laid a finger on his lips to hush them. The terror and grief in their faces were so heart-rending that he was hit by a sudden, urgent desire to seek out Halli and Thráinn and strangle them with his bare hands. He couldn’t give a damn if one of them was innocent. Or both; they had never finished exploring the lowest deck of the boat, so it was still theoretically possible that there was a stowaway on board. He led the girls cautiously up the two levels to the saloon and hesitated outside the door, unwilling to barge in when he didn’t know what might await them inside. The only way to find out would be to go out on deck and peer in through the window but it was still daylight so they would be exposed to anyone in the room. So he pushed the girls behind him and undid the catch on the door. Then he opened it slowly and calmly, without saying a word, and stuck his head through the gap, ready for anything.

His precautions proved unnecessary. There wasn’t a soul inside and the sofa was empty; Lára had vanished along with the blanket she had been lying on. ‘Where’s Mummy?’ Bylgja did her best to whisper but it emerged like a shriek in the silence.

‘I don’t know, darling. We’ll find her.’ Ægir’s eyes ached and when he rubbed them he discovered they were swollen from lack of sleep. Harsh stubble scratched his hand as he ran it down his face: his appearance must reflect his inner torment. If he had to resort to threats against Thráinn and Halli, there was no question now that they would take him seriously. Without looking at the girls, he seized their colouring books and crayons from the coffee table and handed them over. ‘Come on.’ There was a strange odour in the room that filled him with revulsion; he didn’t want it to linger in his nose, guessing that it was connected somehow to Lára’s dead body. He wanted to remember how sweet she had smelt when alive.

They made less effort to tiptoe on their way back downstairs. There was no reason to any more since Ægir now actively wanted to find the men. It went against all his previous plans but the thought of Lára’s cold body, alone and abandoned, robbed him of his few remaining wits. What did he mean to do if he found out where she was? He didn’t know, but one thing was certain; he was not going to leave her behind to the tender mercies of Thráinn and Halli.

On reaching the pilot house, Ægir signalled to the girls to stop. He inched closer to the door, hoping to hear voices or sounds of movement. But his ears were met by silence; either the door was too thickly insulated or there was no one inside. The girls were mutely clutching their colouring books. He beckoned them over, then pushed them behind him as before.

Inside, Halli and Thráinn were sitting face to face, apparently engaged in a staring contest. ‘Where’s Lára?’ The men finally broke eye contact and Ægir was shocked when he saw Thráinn’s face. The white stubble made him look as if he had aged ten years; his eyes were blood red and the black rings under them would have done a ghost proud. Halli looked little better. His dyed hair was matted, his face puffy.

‘What?’ The hoarse croaking indicated that Halli hadn’t spoken for a long time.

‘Where’s Lára? And where’s the gun?’

‘Do you think it’s a good idea for you to take it? It’s caused enough harm already.’ Thráinn’s voice sounded like the rustling of dry paper. There were no drinks to be seen and the two men had probably been sitting there, parched with thirst, for hours. Neither apparently trusted the other enough to go and fetch water or a Coke.

‘Don’t you worry about that. And it’s a bit late to be careful now – it’s your fault Lára had the gun in the first place.’ The captain didn’t react to the accusation. ‘But if you want to know, I’m going to throw it in the sea. I don’t want it and I don’t like the idea of you two having it.’ Even as he spoke, he realised his mistake. It would have been better to let them believe he had the gun. Exhaustion was making it difficult to think straight, difficult to think at all, and he couldn’t come up with any convincing way to retract his statement.

‘It’s in the top drawer.’ Thráinn pointed to the console under the window. ‘You can chuck it overboard for all I care.’

‘What?’ Halli made to stand up and grab the gun first but was so stiff that he couldn’t get out of the chair properly. ‘I’m telling you – there’s somebody else on board. We might need that gun. Are you out of your minds?’ Ægir went to the drawer and opened it. He didn’t reply and it seemed Thráinn was not going to either. In the top of the drawer lay an object wrapped in a dishcloth. As Ægir was unwrapping it, Halli spoke again: ‘And what about the police? They’re bound to want the gun when we go ashore.’ His voice rose to a falsetto.

‘If we ever make it to land.’ Thráinn coughed and rubbed his forehead. If he was feeling anything like Ægir he must have a splitting headache on top of everything else.

Ægir wrapped the dishcloth back around the gun and took the bundle out of the drawer. ‘Where’s my wife?’

‘Down in the engine room.’ Thráinn glanced at the girls and Ægir thought he saw his face soften a little. They were still gripping their colouring books in both hands, watching the unfolding events with wide, terrified eyes. Bylgja’s glasses had slipped down her nose but she wouldn’t relinquish her hold on her book to push them back into place. ‘I’m not sure it would be wise for you to go down there. We’ll reach land in about twenty-four hours, all being well, and there’ll be plenty of time for that then.’

‘You’re not going down there!’ screeched Halli, frantic now. ‘What’ll you do if you run slap into the killer? Eh? Surely you’re not thinking of taking the girls?’

Arna and Bylgja looked even more petrified and Ægir was forced to intervene before Halli tipped them over the edge into hysteria. They were in a bad enough state already. ‘None of your business.’ Going over to his daughters, he positioned himself in front of them, hoping to block their view. But he could feel them peering round him to see what was happening. ‘I am going, and I don’t want to see you two again until we reach Reykjavík. Or ever.’

‘Shouldn’t we try to talk?’ Thráinn was still massaging his head, his bloodshot eyes reduced to slits. ‘We’re heading for disaster. Can’t we agree to take it in turns to sleep? Two stand watch and keep an eye on each other?’

‘No.’ Ægir shoved the girls towards the door. He had to get out before he succumbed to a proposal that sounded so enticing to his tired ears. ‘I’m going to look after my daughters. You two can go to hell.’

‘It’s the only way, Ægir.’ Thráinn reached out, as if to seize Ægir and force him to stay put. ‘The only way.’

‘Listen to him.’ Halli was on his feet now, rocking, though the sea was calm. ‘It isn’t one of us. I keep trying to tell you.’

‘Then you two should be all right here on your own. You can take it in turns to sleep; you don’t need me.’ Ægir opened the door and herded the girls out. ‘The point is – I don’t trust you. Either of you.’

‘Ægir.’ Thráinn did not shout or raise his voice, though he must have known this was probably his last chance to try to persuade the other man. His voice sounded devoid of hope. It almost worked. Ægir paused, halfway out of the door. ‘I activated the emergency button,’ Thráinn said, ‘but nothing happened. Someone’s sabotaged the wiring and I don’t trust myself to fix it. The lifebuoy isn’t working either. But the long-range radio is tuned to the emergency frequency, so you could try to get through. I haven’t been able to.’ The captain’s voice gave out. Clearing his throat, he managed to rasp out one more sentence: ‘Take care of the girls.’

Ægir let the door slam and they hurried away without bothering with the catch. On the way he hurled the gun, still in its wrapping, overboard without a moment’s regret.

‘Are you sure they’re bad men, Daddy? Halli and the captain?’ Arna freed one hand from her colouring book to hold the rail as they descended the stairs.

‘Yes. I am.’

‘I’m not.’ Arna hesitated on the penultimate step. ‘What if there’s someone else on board, like Halli said?’

‘Halli’s talking nonsense, Arna. Don’t think about it. We’ll lock ourselves in and everything’ll be okay.’

‘I want to wait and see Mummy later. I don’t want to go down to the engine room in case there’s somebody there.’

‘Nor do I.’ Bylgja had caught up with her sister and stopped beside her.

‘All right.’ Ægir had to admit that he was relieved. He dreaded descending into the confined space of the engine room where it was possible that a fourth man – or woman – was lurking. ‘We’ll just go back to the cabin and have a rest; have something to eat maybe. Then we’ll see. How does that sound?’

Once he had securely locked the door and given the girls a slice of bread and a yoghurt apiece, which they accepted but didn’t touch, he sat down and let his mind wander. A bitter laugh escaped him when he realised that if the yacht hadn’t tangled with the container they would almost be home by now. The girls both regarded him anxiously and he stifled his laughter. He mustn’t lose control – for their sake. If only he could lie down for ten minutes. Or even five. It would be enough to take the edge off his exhaustion and afterwards he would be in better shape to stay awake for the rest of the voyage. He closed his eyes, all his problems evaporated and he slipped gently into a dreamless, restorative sleep.

When he started awake he had no idea how long he had been dead to the world; the girls were sound asleep fully dressed on the bed, their colouring books open in front of them, the crayons scattered over the rumpled bedclothes. Outside it was pitch dark, but that didn’t tell him much as it had been near sunset when they came below.

Ægir rose, thanking God that nothing had happened while he was out for the count. He was furious with himself for failing in his guard duty but his reproaches lacked conviction since he had at least managed to sleep a little without anything going wrong. Yet he did not feel well rested and was seized by a longing to return to his comfy chair and slip back into unconsciousness. But that was impossible. His luck wouldn’t hold forever. He heard a noise overhead and wondered if that was what had woken him. It sounded peculiar, like something being dragged across the deck. Then it fell quiet. Suddenly there was a splash from outside the porthole Ægir had opened to air the cabin. He dashed over to see what had fallen into the water.

He felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. On the illuminated surface of the waves a man bobbed up, as if the sea were rejecting him. It was so unreal that it took Ægir a moment to focus. The body was floating face down but just before it vanished into the darkness astern, he recognised the muscular back and grey-streaked hair. The yacht no longer had a captain.

All that separated Ægir and his daughters from the man responsible for this monstrous deed was a flimsy wooden door. His heart lurched as he realised that on the other side Halli would be waiting.