The Day Is Dark

Chapter 3

The coffee at Reykjavík City Airport was quite good, even though it was simply called ‘coffee’ and came not from a gleaming chrome machine that spouted steam like a locomotive as it brewed one cup at a time, but an old coffeepot standing on a hot plate, reflecting the style of the tired old terminal. You’d have to go a long way to find such an old-fashioned brewing method in town, where the fancy machines had taken over everywhere. Thóra had even received one of the newfangled contraptions as a Christmas present from her parents. On Christmas Eve she had gulped down immoderate amounts of coffee without realizing that the new coffee was much stronger than the weak liquid she was used to. All that night she lay stiffly with her eyes wide open, barely able to blink, much less sleep. Since then the coffeemaker had been collecting dust. However, now Thóra would not have objected to a double espresso from her machine to perk her up; her head was throbbing and her mental abilities were a wreck. An overly large dose of coffee would probably help.

‘You should have brought a rucksack,’ muttered Matthew as he sat down next to her in the waiting area. He was still agitated about the suitcase Thóra had turned up with. ‘I told you specifically.’

‘Oh, come on, sweetheart,’ she replied, putting down her coffee cup. ‘It’s on wheels. There are even four of them.’ She had been careful to select the suitcase that would be easiest to pull behind her, and it most resembled a well-trained dog, following almost automatically at her heels. Luckily she had chosen the bag before gulping down all that wine.

‘Thank goodness they all work,’ said Matthew, just as unimpressed as he’d been when he picked her up half an hour ago. Thóra hadn’t been able to disguise how sleep-deprived and hungover she was, which was not at all to his liking. She felt too poorly for that to make any difference to her, which seemed to irritate him even more. ‘Winters are rough out there.’ Matthew had clearly gone and bought himself a new rucksack. Thóra came to this conclusion partly because she did not believe that he would have already owned one, but also because his huge backpack was so brilliantly clean that it could have come straight from the shop that very morning. Apparently that hadn’t been his only new purchase, because, for once, he was wearing a proper coat. Beneath this, though, he was wearing pressed, neatly creased trousers and a shirt that was actually quite casual for him. At least he’d had the sense to skip the tie. But Thóra was pretty sure he had one or two in his backpack, just in case.

‘I know,’ said Thóra, trying not to let his grumbling about the suitcase get on her nerves. One of their fellow travellers, whom they had met at the check-in counter, had confined himself to a quick, dubious glance at the bright green lump of plastic. He had introduced himself as Dr Finnbogi Kolbeinsson; he looked to be approaching fifty, with a slender build, and his battered hiking boots suggested that he was quite the outdoorsman. On the large rucksack that he swung as if it were empty were the remains of all types of stickers and patches from distant lands. Thóra had the feeling that Matthew’s new and shiny rucksack inspired the same indignation in the doctor as her suitcase did – possibly even more. At least she wasn’t putting on pretences.

Thóra couldn’t wait to show off to Matthew everything she’d thought to put into her big bag. She had no idea precisely what was in it, but hoped some sensible garments were hidden therein. She was actually pretty certain that Matthew had packed without knowing anything about cold weather conditions and camping, and although she of course could personally be considered no expert in either, she was quite familiar with sudden weather changes and winter conditions, a familiarity that had hopefully survived her intoxication. When Matthew tore everything out of his rucksack at their destination in search of woollen socks, and his ties and shirts were flung around the room, she could get back at him for all his grumbling. Still, she decided to change the subject, since his nagging and her headache were not a good combination. ‘I’m trying to memorize who’s who,’ said Thóra, looking over the group, which had spread out around the little airport, each member armed with a mobile phone. Theirs was the only flight scheduled at this hour – the bank had made arrangements with Air Iceland to fly them to Kulusuk, where the company made regularly scheduled flights in the summer. From there they were to be transported north by helicopter, to a small village near the work camp. It wasn’t yet clear how they would travel the final stretch of their journey, but it was considered likely that they would find one or two cars from Berg Technology in the hangar by the helicopter pad, where they would usually have been stored. The employees who had gone home had left them behind, so unless they had been stolen the vehicles should be there. Thóra prayed to God that that was not the case; if they had to walk, she would be in trouble. Her luggage was hardly designed for long hikes.

‘I can’t say that I know all the names, but I know who does what,’ said Matthew, apparently willing to abandon the suitcase discussion. ‘There aren’t that many on the team, and you’ll get to know them quite quickly in our isolation.’

‘Of course, of course,’ said Thóra. ‘Everyone looks okay to me.’ She watched as the youngest member of the group by far, Eyjólfur Þorsteinsson, stuck a coin into the gumball machine standing near one wall. The machine swallowed the coin but refused to deliver the gum, and after trying peacefully to get his money back, the young man pounded energetically on the machine’s large plastic bowl, tossing the gumballs around inside it. This produced no result and he walked away angrily. Thóra hoped that this wasn’t representative of Eyjólfur’s technical skills, because Matthew had said he was responsible for everything connected with the site’s computer system. In fact it was he who had first set it up, and thus knew all of its ins and outs. He looked to be about twenty-five years old, slim with a dark complexion, and probably popular among the women, handsome as he was. In that regard he was the absolute opposite of Alvar Pálsson. Alvar was fortyish, and had been enlisted for the expedition because of his experience on rescue teams that had connections with Greenland – he had been among the Icelanders recruited to assist the Greenlanders in the organization of a rescue-team system there. Thóra didn’t know what his main occupation was, but guessed that he was probably a lighthouse keeper or had a similar job that involved little human interaction. His face was fiery red, and he had barely responded when Matthew tried introducing Thóra to him; he had simply snorted something and carried on trying to attach his walking stick to his rucksack. If Thóra had been forced to describe him, the word ‘bad’ would have featured frequently; the poor man had bad teeth, smelled bad, looked in bad shape, and to make matters worse, was badly shaven.

‘Where did the geologist go?’ asked Thóra. ‘The woman?’ Of the team’s six members there was one other woman besides Thóra, Friðrikka Jónsdóttir. She had worked on this project during its early days but had resigned and gone to work for Reykjavík Energy. Matthew told Thóra that a decent sum of money had persuaded her to take some days off to come with them, since she knew the project so well and was likely to be able to assess the status of the drilling without needing to first familiarize herself with everything.

‘She must be here somewhere. At least, she’d already checked in by the time we did. Maybe she’s just out having a cigarette, or on the phone?’

‘Did she see the video?’ asked Thóra.

‘No,’ he replied, setting his briefcase down on the table between them. ‘There was no time for that, and perhaps it wouldn’t have been appropriate either. If she’d backed out, there was no need to have bothered her with unnecessary details.’ He opened the briefcase and took out a hefty stack of spiral bound notebooks. ‘I wanted to give you these. It’s probably good for you to have them on the plane if you want to use the time to read through them. They’re all about the construction contract.’

Thóra took the entire pile, which was far thicker than the contracts she was used to. ‘But this Friðrikka might still have been able to say whether the video was taken at the site, and maybe even have recognized the feet by the slippers,’ she said.

‘Yes, of course,’ said Matthew. ‘Still, we decided not to show this to anyone but you and the doctor. We’ll see how it goes once we get there. Maybe then it’ll be time to let the others watch it. The IT guy could also possibly identify the feet, since he knows the group even though he didn’t actually belong to it.’ He shut the briefcase. ‘But I’m hoping that we won’t need to do that.’ Looking around, he added: ‘We’re actually missing one passenger.’

‘Oh?’ asked Thóra. ‘Who’s that?’

‘Bella,’ he replied, not meeting her eye.

‘Ha ha,’ said Thóra sarcastically. Her hangover felt even worse at the thought of her secretary. She stared piercingly at Matthew, who was still avoiding her gaze. ‘Don’t even joke about it – is that meant to be funny?’

‘No,’ said Matthew hesitantly. ‘Your partner Bragi called me last night and fobbed her off on me, saying we didn’t even need to pay her. It’ll help to have someone who can take care of typing everything up on the computer. I called the bank this morning and they gave it the green light – they were ecstatic, even, since it’s not often they’re offered something for free.’ He was gabbling now, and added even more rapidly: ‘She’ll be helping the group out before you know it, and you won’t even know she’s there. There’s a lot of information that needs to be entered on the computer, so her skills will undoubtedly be of great use to us.’

‘You’re kidding!’ said Thóra. ‘I have a hunch that the seal hunters in Greenland would be better at typing up information than Bella, and they’d certainly move faster.’

Matthew made no attempt to argue this point. ‘I couldn’t say no,’ he hissed. ‘You’ve always said how pushy Bragi can be, and he gave me no other choice than to accept the help.’ He smiled sheepishly. ‘Believe me, I tried many times to decline it.’

Thóra was speechless. She was both frustrated with Matthew and furious at Bragi, and couldn’t decide which of them she would rather lock inside a cupboard with Bella for a week. But her hangover prevented her from arguing about this any further. The entrance to the airport was not visible from where they sat, but she could see the check-in counter, where all was quiet. ‘Maybe she’ll miss the plane,’ said Thóra, looking at the clock on the wall. ‘I bet she misses the plane.’ Then she started thumbing through the documents in the hope that her anger would dissipate.

‘Yes, maybe,’ said Matthew, awkwardly. ‘But we won’t make a fuss about it if she turns up too late. It was only this morning that I received final confirmation that she could come, but I don’t know when Bragi delivered the message to her.’

Thóra ground her teeth and continued to read. There was a total of five volumes of various thicknesses and she could see immediately that only two of them mattered: the contract terms and letters sent between Berg Technology and Arctic Mining during the negotiation process. The other three volumes contained information about geological studies of the area, the climate and drawings that had been scaled down so small that Thóra was unable to make out the tiny print. One of the notebooks was labelled ‘Job Description’, and its contents covered the details of each of Berg Technology’s tasks and how they would be paid for. Thóra knew that she would have to read over the last volume, especially if everything on site had gone to pot. ‘Why is no one from the contractors joining us?’ she asked without looking up. ‘This is a rather large contract and I doubt that everyone from the company was working on site. At least not the management.’

‘It’s not a big company,’ replied Matthew, clearly relieved that Thóra was talking about something other than his having given in to Bragi. ‘It’s very specialized and has managed to make a name for itself in geological research and related feasibility studies, though mainly in the field of geothermal heat. Berg Technology’s main man and founder is now involved in another project in the Azores, along with five employees. The company has no other staff apart from the twelve who went to Greenland, and ten of them refuse to go back there, while the other two…’ He cleared his throat before continuing. ‘The company had planned greatly to expand its workforce this summer, when it was supposed to start major construction projects like laying an airport runway, but whether that will actually happen depends on whether Berg Technology manages to stay afloat. The kind of workers they need are much easier to find than the ones working at the site now, and it shouldn’t be any trouble to hire them if an agreement can be reached with the mining company. As far as the owner is concerned, we’ve been in constant contact with him by telephone and e-mail, but he can’t get away for the time being. They’re about to complete an important stage of their project in the Azores and he’s afraid that if he leaves now, the company that hired them will start having doubts. The last thing Berg needs now is for that project to be put at risk as well. We’re not going to press him, because he could become an albatross around our necks. His company is naturally far more important to him than the financial standing of the bank, so you never know what he might do. Berg has three board members, including the owner, but the other two have never come to Greenland, so it’s not really worthwhile dragging them along.’

Thóra nodded. The voice on the tannoy announced that the charter flight to Greenland was ready for departure. Thóra stuck the documents back into the briefcase. She smiled as she stood up. It looked as if Bella would not make the plane. Sometimes you got lucky. They walked along with the others towards the gate and Thóra noticed that a woman in her early thirties had joined the group. This must be the geologist Friðrikka. She was tall like Thóra, but otherwise they were quite different. Thóra was blonde, but Friðrikka had curly bright red hair that she was obviously trying to keep under control with an elastic band. She was also a little plump, while Thóra was quite skinny. Matthew stopped when he saw her approaching and as he introduced her to Thóra, Friðrikka extended a calloused hand. The woman seemed rather shy, but her grip was firm nevertheless and her low-key greeting sincere.

Thóra hadn’t thought about the fact that there was a little duty-free shop at the airport, but she didn’t really want anything. Some of the group went to the tills with cartons of cigarettes, but the only one who seemed to want to take advantage of the inexpensive alcohol was the rescuer Alvar Pálsson. He stood in line at the register with a bottle of rum and another of Campari, still just as red-faced as when Thóra had seen him first. Considering the amount he was buying for such a short trip, he was either a lush or preparing himself for a longer stay in Greenland than planned.

‘Are you going to buy something?’ asked Matthew, who appeared rather unimpressed by the little shop.

‘No,’ replied Thóra. ‘I don’t think I need anything they sell.’ Headache tablets would have been useful, but there were none to be seen. They started walking out of the shop, but Thóra stopped abruptly in the doorway when she heard a familiar voice coming from the security gate.

‘If I can take one lighter on board, then why can’t I take two?’ thundered Bella. ‘What can I do with two lighters that I can’t do with one?’

Thóra went back into the shop and headed towards the spirits section.

The flight only took two hours and Thóra used the time to read the contract, in search of anything that might be useful if it came to a breach of agreement. She found nothing other than the clause about force majeure. Everything else was nailed down pretty tightly. Special emphasis had even been put on local conditions and difficulties connected with transportation and climate. The bank clearly wanted to ensure as far as possible that Berg Technology could not request additional payments or postponements due to the area turning out to be more difficult than anticipated at first, or the costs higher. She also noted that any contractual disputes were to be settled in a British court, which meant the bank would no longer have need of her services at the conclusion of this trip. It might take her a few days to process whatever data they gathered, then her part in the matter would be finished. So Thóra’s prediction had turned out to be right: as soon as the case was straightened out, others would take over. Although she was naturally a bit miffed about this, it was comforting to imagine Bragi’s disappointment. Her longing to tell him about it only intensified when she heard Bella jabbering away to herself at the back of the plane.

The eight passengers on board the charter had plenty of room. Thóra and Matthew sat at the front, so she couldn’t see her fellow travellers, but the sound of snoring suggested that some of them had decided to nap on the way. That was understandable; although it was light outside, there was nothing to see but sky and sea. It wasn’t until they reached the coast of Greenland that the view was worth waking up for. The country looked very unwelcoming. It was covered with snow except in a few places where the mountainsides were too steep for it to settle, and on a slender strip near the coast where the encroaching sea had melted it. Icebergs were floating everywhere off the coast and the overriding impression was that the land was being ground into pieces and driven out into the sea. The jaggedness of the coastline did nothing to diminish this effect. The same went for the interior: there were no level areas, and the mountain peaks were innumerable. There were no visible signs of human habitation.

‘Has the pilot got confused and taken us to the North Pole?’ Thóra asked Matthew, after turning away from the glacier’s glare. ‘No one could possibly be living down there.’

He leaned towards the window and looked slightly shaken when he turned back to her. ‘It looks worse from such a great height,’ he said. ‘Also, maybe we’re still too far north. I’m sure it will look better when we land.’ He appeared to be trying to convince himself as much as Thóra.

‘I hope you’re right,’ said Thóra. ‘Erik the Red must have been colour-blind when he named the country. Everything down there is white. I don’t know how we’re going to avoid polar bears – if they close their eyes they’ll be invisible.’

‘There won’t be any polar bears,’ said Matthew, although he was still peering out nervously. ‘The trip itself is the only problem we’re going to have.’

‘I hope so,’ she replied, smiling. ‘But one thing’s for certain – there was no polar bear swinging an axe or a club in the video.’ She leaned in and whispered, ‘Did you notice that Bella is the only other person awake?’ Stealthily, she turned to check whether this was still the case. ‘If she weren’t here I could invite you to the toilet and initiate you into the mile high club.’ She looked Matthew in the eye and grinned. ‘Damn it, what a shame she had to come.’ She turned back to the window, pleased with herself.

Shortly afterwards the aircraft landed gently. The travellers disembarked, full of expectation tempered with anxiety. All except one. That passenger had promised never to come here again. Terrible memories lingered here, memories that were impossible to push away.

It was incredible that this passenger had returned, in fact. A blue-black crow screeched on the roof of the airport, rose into the air and flew off into the wilderness.