The Darkness Knows

21

Marta brought out the CCTV footage from the National Hospital, which she had requested in the hope that the woman who’d visited Hjaltalín had been caught on film. But since the chaplain’s description hadn’t been very detailed, Konrád didn’t know what to look for apart from a woman on her own in the vicinity of the oncology ward. There were a lot of cameras, as it turned out, both inside and outside the hospital, but at least they had a fairly precise time for the visit. The woman had been sitting with Hjaltalín late in the evening, when the hospital was at its least busy. As the chaplain had mentioned, the nursing staff had been unaware of her presence. The woman hadn’t spoken to anyone at reception, just slipped unobserved into Hjaltalín’s room, sat there for a while, then left as unobtrusively as she had arrived. Hjaltalín had waved the chaplain away when he came to the door.

‘He didn’t want the chaplain to see who was visiting him,’ Konrád said, fast-forwarding through the footage from the camera covering the rear entrance and the ambulance bay.

‘Why do you think this woman’s important?’ Marta asked for the second time. She had got hold of the CCTV recordings at Konrád’s request — albeit reluctantly, because she still wasn’t happy with the idea of him carrying out his own private investigation and interfering with the work of the police. But they were old colleagues and Marta could see that there might be something to be gained from Konrád’s efforts.

‘I’ve already told you. Hjaltalín’s alibi was that he’d been with a married woman when Sigurvin vanished. It could be her.’

‘Wasn’t that his big lie?’

‘He’s not the only one who lied to us,’ Konrád said, thinking of Leó.

‘And you believe they’ve been in contact with each other since then?’

‘Why not?’ Konrád said. ‘Or, alternatively, maybe their relationship ended years ago but she wanted to say goodbye to him.’

‘And to thank him? He went through hell to avoid naming her.’

‘Exactly. To thank him for everything. She owed it to him.’

Konrád studied Marta as she sat at her computer, looking heavy-eyed. She belonged to the new generation of detectives after Konrád’s, and had taken her first steps in CID under his guidance. She hadn’t yet met the woman from the Westman Islands in those days, and used to say she didn’t mind living alone. Konrád had been sceptical about this and was subsequently proved right when the woman moved in with her. Marta had been on cloud nine, believing she had finally found happiness, and Konrád had been sad at the way their relationship ended some years later. Marta wasn’t one to complain, she had a habit of ringing him late in the evening, especially in winter, and talking at length about whatever happened to be on her mind, though she hadn’t been calling as much recently. At those times he sensed her loneliness. Marta’s colleagues generally had a lot of time for her, though she could be harsh and tactless in her dealings with people. One of them had said flippantly that under her rough exterior she had a heart of stone. Konrád didn’t agree.

He put another recording in the machine and asked Marta how she was doing. She said she was fine and demanded to know why he was asking. Konrád said he thought she was looking tired and wanted to check everything was all right.

‘Couldn’t be better,’ Marta said. ‘It’s not like you don’t look tired yourself at times.’

‘If you ask me, that spicy food doesn’t agree with you.’

‘What do you know about it? It’s super healthy.’

‘Has the new inquiry turned anything up yet?’

‘Nothing of real interest. Anyway, I don’t know if I should be sharing any details with you, seeing as you’re working on it for some weird reasons of your own. It’s not a good idea to take things like this personally — to let them get to you. I seem to remember you teaching me that.’

‘Have you ever followed my advice?’ Konrád asked.

You shouldn’t take your work home with you, he had once told Marta. But they both knew that obeying the eleventh commandment of policing could be tough.

‘Somehow I get the feeling I’ve managed better than you on that front,’ Marta said.

‘You think so?’

‘Yes, I do.’

On the screen, doctors, orderlies and nurses walked in and out of the frame, along with paramedics and a scattering of people who appeared to be visitors.

‘What’s that woman got to hide?’ Marta asked suddenly.

‘Which one?’

‘That one there,’ she said, pointing to a figure standing by the lifts. ‘Rewind a little.’

Konrád rewound and they watched as a woman wearing a long coat and a scarf over her head darted in through the doors and over to the lifts. She kept her back to the security camera. A moment later she had vanished into the lift.

‘Is that...? What’s she up to?’ Marta asked.

Konrád rewound the footage a second and a third time. It was obvious that the woman was trying to be inconspicuous. He got the impression she was aware of the CCTV and was keen to avoid being caught on camera.

‘Can we see when she enters the building?’ Marta asked.

Konrád changed the recording. Now that they had a precise time for the woman’s arrival, they were quick to find the right place in the footage from the camera outside the rear entrance. They spotted the woman but, frustratingly, she kept just beyond the range of the camera until the last minute, when she dashed in through the doors with a hand over her face. It looked as if she was holding her scarf over her mouth and chin.

‘Who is she?’ Konrád asked.

He found the footage from the camera on the second floor, where the oncology ward was located. They watched as the lift doors opened. Two orderlies came out, followed by the woman in the headscarf, who hurried into the ward. It was eleven in the evening, around the time the chaplain said he’d walked in on Hjaltalín’s conversation with the unknown woman.

‘Is that the woman we’re looking for?’ Marta asked.

Konrád fast-forwarded. They saw no one else in the vicinity of the oncology ward until the chaplain went in.

‘Isn’t that your mate?’ Marta said.

‘Yes — Pétur. He’s a good guy.’

Konrád fast-forwarded again until the door opened and the woman in the headscarf emerged into the corridor. He slowed down the playback. The woman walked over to the lifts and pressed the button, but instead of waiting she headed for the stairs instead. She kept her chin lowered to her chest and one hand over her forehead the whole time, making it impossible to see her features.

Konrád found the footage from the camera covering the rear entrance again and located the right time. They saw the woman approaching along the corridor towards the exit. She had her head bowed and was still holding a hand over her face. Then, as if startled by something, she briefly lowered her arm and the scarf fell away from her mouth and chin.

Konrád paused the frame. Gradually it dawned on him that he had seen the woman before, a long time ago.

‘Is that her? Is it possible?’

‘Who?’ Marta asked.

‘What’s Linda doing there?’ Konrád frowned at the screen.

‘Who?’ Marta said, straightening up in her chair.

‘I don’t believe it,’ Konrád whispered.

‘What?’ Marta was growing impatient.

‘Isn’t that his wife?’

‘Whose wife?’ Marta asked, exasperated now.

‘It’s Linda. It’s his wife! Why was Sigurvin’s wife visiting Hjaltalín?’

‘Is that who she is?’ Marta asked, leaning towards the screen for a closer look.

‘What the hell did she want from Hjaltalín?’ Konrád whispered, not taking his eyes off the frozen image of the woman.