The Girl Without Skin

53

Matthew briefly considered going home and changing his clothes, but decided against it. Instead he walked straight from Radiofjeldet and down to Block 2. As he walked, he texted Tupaarnaq about Else and Arnaq. She replied straightaway that it was probably better to have a sister than a father, given that fathers were invariably idiots.

A few minutes later Matthew had reached the address Ivalo had given him. The long building was almost as derelict as Block 17, but it was constructed differently: each front door here opened out onto a shared gallery that ran the full length of the block.

On entering from the yard, he noticed a round sign in red and white with a red line across a black outline of a man taking a piss. The message could not be misinterpreted, and yet a strong stench of urine still lingered.

The front door was blue. The paint was cracked and discoloured, but what he could see of the apartment through the windows looked fine. There were floral curtains in the windows on either side of the door; through one window he could see right into a clean and neat kitchen.

The second time he knocked, the door was opened by a petite woman in her early fifties, who peered out from the crack between the door and the frame.

‘No junk mail,’ she said wearily when she saw his face.

‘Junk mail?’ he echoed, perplexed.

‘Yes—that’s what you’re handing out, isn’t it?’

‘No.’ He frowned. ‘I’m a journalist and I have some questions for you.’

‘Oh, are you? I thought you were one of those parents who go round with their children raising money for school trips because they think it’s too dangerous for the children to be out on their own.’

‘My daughter is dead.’ Matthew felt his heart plummet inside him so fast that his knees nearly buckled. He had no idea where the words had come from, and he wished he could take them back. ‘I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say. My name is Matthew and I’m looking for Paneeraq Poulsen. Do you know her?’

‘Yes,’ she said tentatively. ‘That’s me.’

‘I work for Sermitsiaq and I’m investigating an old case—four murders committed here in Nuuk in 1973.’

Paneeraq said nothing, but she studied him closely.

His fingertips on his left hand gently enclosed the ring finger on his right hand and started rubbing it. ‘As far as I’ve discovered, it was a case where the murder victims were possibly even more evil than whoever killed them, although the murders were brutal.’ He struggled to find the right words. ‘I got your address from a woman who works for the council, and now I’m here. It’s not an easy case to investigate. Everyone clams up like oysters.’

Her silence caused his hands to shake again.

Eventually she nodded slowly and pressed her lips together. ‘Just a minute,’ she said and closed the door.

A few doors further down, three young Greenlanders had come out into the gallery from another apartment. They were all smoking, and Matthew felt the craving for a cigarette. He went over to the gallery railings and leaned over to look down. There were only three cars parked in the yard between Block 1 and Block 2, and one of them was a wreck. Diagonally to his left, he could see a corner of the Arts Centre.

The door opened again, and he quickly turned around.

‘Do come in,’ Paneeraq said, and opened the door fully. ‘I’ve never told anyone what happened, but I’m fifty-three years old now, and I’ve nothing to live for except my grandfather. If I’m going to die, I might as well die shriven, and my grandfather is well into his eighties so he doesn’t cling to anything either.’

Matthew didn’t know what to say, so he bent down to unlace his boots.

‘We discussed it just now, before I let you in,’ she continued. ‘Once someone from the government hears about it, it’ll be common knowledge soon enough.’

‘I haven’t been talking to them,’ Matthew interjected. ‘It was an older woman I know from the council. She feels strongly about the appalling…’ He hesitated. ‘The appalling attitude towards women in so many villages.’

Paneeraq nodded with an empty smile, and then ushered him into the living room. ‘Well, let’s see.’ She pointed out a chair by the dining table. ‘We can sit there.’

The living room was divided into three small islands: the dining table, the sofa and the television, and a comfortable armchair in which an old man was dozing. He was slumped in his chair and almost hidden in an anorak like those Matthew had seen worn by the Greenlandic men who ran the stalls down on the square. A round, flat drum of the kind used for drum dancing was leaning against the armchair.

‘That’s my grandfather,’ Paneeraq said, placing two cups of steaming black coffee on the table. ‘He doesn’t say a lot these days.’

She pulled out a chair and sat down opposite Matthew. Her face was round, her eyes small and her eyebrows sparse. Her hair was thick and short, and brushed to the left. There were traces of grey in the black.

‘What would you like to know?’ she said, without looking at him.

‘I’m working on a case from the seventies,’ he began hesitantly. ‘The four murders I mentioned just now. The way I see it, the murders happened because of child abuse within the family. Now, the girls didn’t kill their own fathers, of course, but someone close to them had had enough and took action on the girls’ behalf.’

‘And you think I’m one of the girls?’

Matthew’s fingers traced the side of the hot cup. ‘Yes, I do. But it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.’

The old man in the armchair let a wrinkled hand fall from the armrest and down onto the drum, where it tapped the taut skin. Not hard, but enough for it to catch Matthew’s attention.

‘I don’t mind talking about it.’ Paneeraq interrupted the drum, which fell silent immediately. Then she got up and went over to a small, dark-brown chest of drawers, where she lit two large white candles with Christian images. On one candle was a picture of Jesus in the style of an icon, and on the other the Virgin Mary.

Matthew spotted a small, fossilised sea urchin between the candles. ‘Do you have such fossils up here?’ he asked, smiling at her.

‘No, it was given to me a long time ago by a good friend.’ She returned to her chair at the table and took a sip of her coffee. ‘What would you like to know?’

Matthew shifted in his seat. ‘When I started my investigation, I thought it was an unsolved murder case, but that has changed.’

‘Changed to what?’

‘Child abuse.’

Paneeraq heaved a deep sigh and stared at the table.

‘It really is quite all right if you don’t want to talk about it,’ Matthew said.

She shrugged. ‘Well, you’re here now.’ Her gaze moved towards the candles. ‘Every girl who is abused remains a lost and lonely child her entire life. The pain of being betrayed so profoundly by the very people who should have protected her never goes away. The pain is there every day, and it hurts just as much now as it did back when she was nine or twelve years old and crying herself to sleep every night.’

‘Do you mind if I record this?’ Matthew asked, taking out his mobile.

‘No… but if you publish your story, I would like to see it first, especially if you mention my name.’

‘I haven’t decided yet. Would you prefer me not to mention your name?’

‘Do what you think is best.’ She stared emptily at his mobile. ‘I wasn’t abused at home, but many other things happened.’

Matthew looked up. The words in Jakob’s notebook about Paneeraq, who could barely walk and was terrified of her father, had had a profound impact on him, but he didn’t want to bring up the notebook or Jakob. ‘Oh? I thought the killings were some sort of reprisal for the sexual assault of—’

‘Us girls?’

He nodded slowly.

‘They might have been, but there was more to it than that. I don’t know what it was like for the other three girls at home, but I do know what the four of us had been through and were still a part of after we returned to Nuuk, just under a year before my parents were killed.’

‘I thought you lived in Nuuk? With your parents?’ Matthew felt Jakob’s suspicions about the girls and their fathers crumbling between his fingers.

‘It doesn’t sound like you’ve got very far with your investigation, but that’s probably just as well. We’ve been forgotten. Everything has been forgotten.’

‘Not quite,’ Matthew protested. ‘After all, I’m writing about it now.’

‘But not because of us girls—am I right? Because of the murdered men. Everything relating to us has been misplaced or lost, so you won’t find any evidence.’

‘Perhaps the evidence will turn up once the genie is out of the bottle. After all, you’re a witness and you can testify.’

Paneeraq sipped her coffee and moved back a little in her chair. ‘There were four of us. Me, Najak, Julianne and Nuka. We were all about nine years old when we arrived at Ammassalik. That must have been in 1969. There was a children’s hospital there and we were being treated for tuberculosis.’ She shook her head. ‘Frankly, I think it was nothing but an orphanage, but someone wanted an excuse to test pharmaceutical products on us, and TB provided a convenient pretext because no one paid much attention to little girls with a chronic cough.’

‘So you spent two years at the orphanage in Ammassalik? That’s not at all what I had imagined.’

‘Yes, I guess we were there for about two years. The days merged together. I think we had given up hope that we would ever go home again, then suddenly it happened, and on the same day the four of us were flown back to Nuuk. We were told that we had been cured, but that we would need ongoing treatment to stay healthy, and that treatment would be best provided in Nuuk. It was more than a year since I had last coughed, so it made no sense to me at the time, but today I know why. But whatever the reason, it was a huge relief to get out of that place. Or so we thought.’

‘All right,’ Matthew said hesitantly. ‘So no one had been assaulted before the murders were committed?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

The silence settled around them.

‘I wasn’t raped at home, but I was raped at the orphanage.’ Paneeraq’s eyes closed. Her face was distorted by distant pain. ‘It was a dreadful place. Rapes. Humiliation. Medical experimentation. They gave us pills and injections from the very first week. Amphetamines, I believe today. But also lots of other things—I didn’t know what they were then and I still don’t. We were never told anything, except that it was part of our treatment. Some drugs gave me such severe pain in my back and legs that I could barely walk. And we slept much more than we ought to have done. Some days we were given pills that would give us our energy back, but they couldn’t do anything about the pain.’

Matthew cleared his throat. ‘Are you telling me that being raped was a part of life at the orphanage?’

‘It was for me and those three other girls. There was an old doctor from Denmark. He had been there for years, and there was a rumour that he had once got a girl pregnant. Today, I believe that was why we were sent away when we reached the age of eleven or twelve. Not only because we were starting to understand what was going on, but also because we might get pregnant.’

‘What a bastard. Why didn’t anyone stop him?’

‘A Danish doctor in Tasiilaq in the sixties and seventies? If you’re a man, you can get away with anything in Tasiilaq. You could then and you can now.’

‘Tasiilaq? I thought you said Ammassalik?’

‘Tasiilaq used to be called Ammassalik. It’s perhaps one of the most beautiful places on earth, but only if you’re a man… or a rock.’

Matthew rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘Did you ever meet the doctor again once you returned to Nuuk? Or other people? I’m thinking of civil servants who wanted to make sure you kept silent.’

She nodded with a light smile that hid behind two sad, black eyes. ‘So you do know something after all. We continued with our treatment after we came back to Nuuk. Once a week we would go to the hospital to get an injection in our thigh. I don’t know what it was for, but I was knocked out for hours every single time. Except that twice I woke up and found the doctor between my legs while I lay semiconscious in a hospital bed.’

‘The doctor from Tasiilaq?’

‘Yes.’

‘So he had also come to Nuuk?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, he had. I don’t know how that came about, but at the time I thought he must be stranded in Nuuk for the winter, because there were very few winter flights by helicopter in those days.’

‘Did he also rape the other girls after they came back to Nuuk?’

‘Yes, he did, and that was where things went really wrong because he was found out. Nukannguaq Rossing Lynge, Najak’s mother, came to pick up her daughter at the hospital after treatment one day, and when she entered the ward she saw him lying on top of her naked child. Najak was awake and started screaming and crying when she saw her mother. I don’t know if any of the other girls were also raped by their fathers. But the doctor was another matter, and suddenly all hell broke loose. Some men from the Town Hall and from Denmark turned up, but they had no intention of exposing the truth—they were there to silence us. That was when we realised that all the drugs we had been given weren’t entirely by the book. They were experimenting on us, and that was the big secret. That was the real reason for the cover-up. Not the rape of four little girls.’

Matthew had put down his mobile. ‘Do you know what happened to the other girls?’

‘Najak went missing. I think her body is hidden somewhere in Nuuk. Julianne and Nuka got ill and died as a result of the treatments we were subjected to as children—I’m sure of it. I’m the only one of us still alive, but there are hundreds of other orphanage children from those days.’

‘Do you think those men killed Najak?’

Her eyes slumped into an even deeper darkness. ‘Yes, but not with their bare hands. I think they gave her an overdose of something.’

‘And what about the girls’ fathers?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said, staring down at the table and shrugging in resignation.

‘Please forgive my many questions. Only the murders were so brutal, and the events aren’t connected in the way I expected.’

‘That’s quite all right.’ She looked up again. ‘There were probably powerful reasons why the murder investigation was stopped.’

‘Those reasons being that the men who visited you at home and who were mixed up in it all were Jørgen Emil Lyberth and Kjeld Abelsen?’

‘I don’t know how you got those names, but you’re on the right track. They came to our place a couple of times and argued loudly with my father, but I’ve no idea if they murdered my parents. Most of the row was about the doctor and the years of medical experimentation.’

Matthew drummed his fingers on the table. ‘If they wanted to silence you, it makes no sense to kill only the fathers of the other girls—and why did the murders have to be so brutal?’

‘Perhaps the brutality was to paralyse people’s thoughts, and divert their attention away from the real reason.’

Matthew traced the side of his coffee cup, which was getting cold. He still hadn’t mentioned Jakob and neither had she, but he didn’t want to ask her about theories that were still disjointed in his mind. Jakob was dead and gone, and wiped from every archive. If he asked Paneeraq about Jakob or anything specific from the notebook, he would have to admit that he had it, and he wasn’t ready to do that yet. He couldn’t risk her getting upset with him for not owning up to just how much he already knew when he knocked on her door. Nor was he sure who to believe. Paneeraq’s and Jakob’s stories didn’t match. The motive for the murders—as Jakob had seen it—might be gone, but Jakob was unlikely to have known that when he made his notes.

Matthew looked at Paneeraq out of the corner of his eye. ‘Have you heard that they found the body of a man out on the ice cap?’

She shook her head, and didn’t seem troubled by this news.

‘I heard this morning that it might be a fifth victim from 1973,’ he said. He paused and looked in vain for a reaction in her eyes. ‘There were only four girls—is that right?’

‘Yes, we were four.’

Matthew shook his head. ‘It’s just too much of a coincidence. The man on the ice cap was killed in the same way, but his body was hidden. And if he was also murdered in ’73, you would think there’d be a connection.’

‘I wouldn’t know.’

There was no expression in her eyes. No fear, anxiety or grief. Not even relief. Matthew looked at the brown chest of drawers, where the candles glowed over the small fossil.

‘Do you know where the Hemplers used to live? I believe they died in the 1960s, in a plane crash near Kolonihavnen, but as far as I know they had a house here in Nuuk. I’m curious about whether the house is still there.’

Paneeraq hesitated, then nodded. ‘I visited that house myself as a child, but I don’t want to talk about that now. Perhaps some other time.’ She smiled distantly. ‘It was where I got my sea urchin.’

‘But do you know if the house still stands?’

‘Oh, it does. It’s near Kolonihavnen.’

Matthew’s mobile interrupted her. Leiff—newspaper said the display on the screen.

‘Go on, answer it,’ she said. ‘I don’t mind.’

Matthew pressed Answer. ‘Hi, Leiff.’

‘Hi. You need to meet Malik out by that Tupaarnaq’s apartment. They’ve found Lyberth inside it. Dead. More than dead, as far as I can gather.’

‘Dead, really? Are they sure it’s him?’

‘They’re quite sure. Hurry up.’

‘Okay, I’ll be there in ten, fifteen minutes max.’ He checked the time on his mobile. ‘I’ll be there before eight o’clock.’

‘All right—but there’s something you need to know first.’

‘Go on…’

‘You know I can never let sleeping dogs lie? I decided to find out what became of the surviving boy in the Tasiilaq murders. You know, the ones involving Tupaarnaq?’

‘I’m with you.’

‘Now, it just so happens that Ulrik Heilmann came to Nuuk a mere three days after the Tasiilaq murders. And not only is he the same age as the surviving boy, he also shares the same birthday and has no known family. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’

‘You’re saying that he—’

‘Yes. I’m trying to get a copy of his birth certificate, but it’s not easy. Perhaps Lyberth helped him out—he was the local vicar back then. But, yes, I’m pretty sure that Ulrik is Tupaarnaq’s brother. How he met Lyberth I’ve yet to find out. By the way, I think we can safely assume that he knows who Tupaarnaq is. In such a small police station, everyone is bound to know when a convicted murderer comes to town.’ He paused briefly. ‘Right, you had better get going. I’ll keep digging. Just bear it in mind in case you see them, will you?’

‘I will,’ Matthew said. ‘And Malik is already out there, you said?’

‘Yes, he’s waiting for you. Oh, by the way, how did your meeting with the woman who knew your father go?’

‘She said that she lived with him for ten years, but that she doesn’t know where he is now. She also said I have a sister who is at school in Denmark.’ Matthew shook his head. ‘This day just gets more and more bizarre.’

54

As Matthew farewelled Paneeraq, she told him he could visit her again if he had any more questions, or if it became necessary for her to read his article before he posted it.

After reaching the yard between Blocks 1 and 2, he hurried through the centre of town towards Tupaarnaq’s apartment, which was less than a ten-minute walk away. Red and white police tape had been put up around the stairwell by Block 17. Near the tape a couple of police officers in black trousers and light-blue shirts were talking to a group of people—perhaps curious onlookers, or maybe residents now denied access to their own homes.

‘Hey,’ a voice called out to Matthew. ‘Got any cigarettes? I seem to have forgotten mine.’

‘What’s going on in there?’ Matthew asked as he lit two cigarettes and handed one to Malik, who accepted it and took a drag deep into his lungs.

‘It’s mind-blowing,’ Malik said, smoke seeping out of the corners of his mouth. ‘Batshit crazy. It’s none other than Lyberth—would you believe it?’

‘Ulrik’s Lyberth?’

‘Yes, that’s the one.’

‘Have you been inside?’

‘No, they’ve restricted access to the whole area, but we know it’s Lyberth.’ He nodded towards the police officers by the tape. ‘I’ve taken a few shots of the guys over there, and a few more from the other side, up towards the balcony and windows.’

‘Great—that’ll do for now.’

‘Oh, no, it won’t.’ Malik shook his head. ‘We’ll hang around for a bit longer. They’ll have to bring him out at some point.’

‘I don’t know,’ Matthew said, staring at the wet car park in front of the apartment building. ‘We might be in for a long wait.’

‘So what? We’re talking about Lyberth! Don’t you want to see what happens?’

‘Yes, of course I do.’ Matthew closed his eyes. The wind had eased off, and the rain was no longer quite so intense, but the smell of a wet world still hung around them like a thick, damp fog. ‘Only I have some stories I need to finish writing.’ He took a long drag on his cigarette. ‘And I need to check out the garden of a house down by Kolonihavnen.’

‘A garden—in Greenland?’

‘Yes, or whatever you have here. Rocks. Heather. I just need to take a look around.’

‘Today? Why?’

‘I think an eleven-year-old girl was buried there in 1973, and that her skeleton might still be there.’

Malik threw aside his cigarette butt. ‘Seriously? Is this a joke?’

‘No. That notebook Ottesen gave me hints at something like that.’

‘Bloody hell, what a day!’ Malik exclaimed, and he slapped Matthew on the shoulder. ‘I’ll join you later, if that’s all right. I want to see what happens here first.’

‘Someone’s trying to get our attention,’ Matthew said, nodding towards the tape.

‘Ah, I know her,’ Malik said. He waved back and started marching down the gallery towards the officer. ‘Come with me. We’re about to be allowed in.’

‘Hello.’ The young female officer’s voice was mild but firm.

‘Hey… Can we come in now?’ Malik tried hopefully.

‘No, that’s not why I waved you over.’ She looked at Matthew. ‘Ottesen would like a word with you.’

‘With me?’ Matthew said, every muscle in his body freezing. ‘Why?’

‘I don’t know, but in you go.’

‘Right, we’ll do just that,’ Malik said, putting his hand on Matthew’s shoulder.

‘Not you, Malik,’ the officer added swiftly. ‘Just Matthew.’ She took a small black walkie-talkie from her belt and raised it to her mouth. ‘Matthew is on his way.’

The walkie-talkie crackled briefly before a voice broke through: Okay, I’m coming down.

Matthew avoided looking at her. The short distance to the heavy, wonky swing door felt like a funeral march.

‘Hello again,’ Ottesen said the moment the door had slammed behind Matthew.

‘Hello,’ Matthew squawked, with absolutely no control over his voice.

‘You may have heard that we’ve found Jørgen Emil Lyberth dead in Tupaarnaq’s apartment.’

Matthew nodded slowly, while he tried to steady his breathing. His gaze scanned the junk mail on the floor, where the vagrant to whom he’d given his cigarettes had been sitting.

‘I told you she was dangerous,’ Ottesen said, and he pressed his lips together for a few seconds. ‘We can’t say anything for certain yet, as there are several things we need to establish, so… Whatever you reporters may hear, please would you restrict yourselves to just writing that he was found in Block 17, and that police are treating his death as suspicious? Just until tomorrow. Then I promise you there will be an official press briefing at the police station or the Town Hall.’

‘Sure,’ Matthew said, and he inhaled air deep into his lungs. ‘We’ll hold off. It’s all right.’

‘Thank you.’ Ottesen rubbed his upper lip between two fingers. ‘You know that notebook I gave you?’

Matthew felt the sweat break out all over his body.

‘I know that Lyberth was keen to get his hands on it. Do you have any idea why?’

‘I think he was mixed up in some scandal in the early seventies.’

‘Does it say so in the book?’

Matthew nodded again. ‘I thought you had read it?’

‘I have.’ There was silence. ‘We should probably put that notebook back.’

‘All right—I’ll go and get it.’

‘Okay. Matthew,’ Ottesen hesitated. ‘About Tupaarnaq… You’ve seen quite a lot of her recently, haven’t you?’

‘Yes,’ Matthew croaked.

‘You went seal hunting together, and now you’re the guy she calls when we pick her up?’

‘She asked me. I… I…’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m just trying to work out who she is.’

‘And who is she?’

‘She’s not who everyone thinks she is.’

‘Good.’ Ottesen inhaled deeply through his nose. ‘Because right now there’s a lot to suggest that you’re wrong. Have you ever been inside her apartment?’

‘No… No, she wouldn’t let me.’ He ground to a halt and stared at the floor.

‘Wouldn’t let you?’

‘She’s not ready for visitors yet. She has just been locked up for twelve years, don’t forget.’

Ottesen smiled briefly. ‘You’re right. It does funny things to people.’ Then he shook his head. ‘I’ve never liked prisons. Right—you bring me that notebook, okay? And if you see Tupaarnaq, please tell her that we really want to talk to her.’

‘Okay.’

‘And you need to stay here in Nuuk.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t leave town until we say so.’

55

The twilight was slowly gathering in the long shadows of the fog around the houses in Kolonihavnen when, just under two hours later, Matthew and Malik stood in front of the house where Jakob Pedersen had lived forty years earlier.

Matthew tried to visualise the layout as Jakob had described it in his notebook. He knew that the living room with Jakob’s armchair must be behind the windows to the right of the front door.

‘Are you sure this is the place?’

Matthew saw a glowing cigarette pass his face.

‘It’s the address that Paneeraq gave me, and it fits the description in the notebook.’

Most of the houses around them could easily be more than forty years old. The distance to the nearest neighbouring house also matched the information in the notebook.

‘Let’s take a closer look,’ Malik said, making a beeline for the front door. ‘It doesn’t look as if anyone lives here now.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘What would I know? Only it looks empty.’ His eyes scanned the exterior. ‘And it could seriously do with a lick of paint.’

The path towards the house was narrow and obscured. It had been wider once—they could tell from the gravel strip winding in and out between the rocks—but the walkway didn’t look as if it was in use much now, having been overrun with low grasses.

The rain had almost ceased, but the cloud cover had grown heavier and lay so densely over the roofs and the rocks that it felt as if the clouds had merged into one with the moisture between the rocks and the brown and green shrubs. The house, which had been visible only a few minutes ago, now vanished into a fog so intense that it felt like cold, damp breath on their skin. Matthew watched Malik dissolve halfway up the path and hurried after him, wiping the moisture from his face with one hand.

A loud knocking penetrated the fog and Matthew jumped. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m knocking on the door. The place really does look abandoned.’

Matthew could barely see his own feet, but he walked in the direction of Malik’s voice, which sounded close by. The house emerged from the fog with its red, peeling paintwork. ‘You can’t just knock on the door!’ he protested.

‘We can always do a runner if anyone is in,’ Malik grinned. He stepped past Matthew and up to the window, where he cupped his hands around his face. ‘It’s pitch-black in there. Hold on.’ His fingers rummaged in his trouser pocket and he pulled out his mobile. Soon the torchlight from the phone was shining through the window. ‘What are we looking for?’

‘I don’t know yet,’ Matthew said, stepping up beside Malik.

The light wasn’t powerful enough to penetrate every corner, but it was enough. An old-fashioned living room was hidden behind the window. Nut-coloured, glossy Brazilian rosewood furniture. Deep-pile rugs, one blue and one grey. Along one wall was a bookcase with books, Greenlandic figures, an ulo and lots of rocks.

‘Could you point the light towards the bookcase again, please?’

Malik tilted the mobile so the light shone brightest on the bookcase with the stones.

Matthew nodded to himself. ‘The guy from the notebook,’ he whispered. ‘He lived in this very room.’

‘You mean this house?’

‘Yes, but also this living room. It’s a perfect match for the description in his notebook.’

‘Okay, all right. So you’re saying the guy—who might be our mummy from the ice cap—used to live here, and everything has just been left as it was?’

‘The living room certainly has.’

‘You’re kidding me! It must be forty years ago.’

‘Forty-one, almost.’

Malik turned to Matthew. ‘Bloody hell! This place gives me the creeps.’ He stretched out his arm and pushed up his sleeve. ‘Do you think he’s still in there?’ he added, and resumed peering through the window. ‘Or what if his spirit is?’

‘Of course it’s not.’ Matthew took a few steps back, and then walked up to the front door. ‘If he’s inside, it’ll be because he’s still alive, but no one can hide in a house in the middle of Nuuk for forty years. Hang on.’ There was a letterbox near the door, and a small nameplate in the top right-hand corner with the name Abelsen. ‘One of the men who got him killed lives here now.’

‘Holy shit! Then I’m one hundred per cent sure that his spirit is in there,’ Malik exclaimed, looking about him. ‘I’ll just take a walk around the house.’

‘What? Why?’

‘I need to check something.’

Matthew grabbed a shovel that was by the door and walked down the front steps and onto the gravel. The fog had closed around Malik the moment he moved, and nothing but moisture remained. ‘Malik?’ Matthew called out nervously.

‘Over here.’

His voice came out of the fog. Possibly from the other side of the house. Or maybe it was nearer. The sound was bouncing around the drops of dense air.

‘Oh, screw it,’ Matthew grunted and stuck out a hand. He found the wooden cladding of the house and started moving in the opposite direction to the one Malik had taken, in order to find the kitchen. On the day Jakob was hit in the head by the stone thrown through the very window they had just been looking through, he had seen a silhouette approach the house. And the next day he had written in his journal that the snow outside his kitchen had been severely disturbed—that there had been pebbles and soil mixed up in it.

His hands fumbling across the rough wood, Matthew edged his way around the house. The fog held him in a firm grip. If he let go of the house, he would have no idea in which direction to walk. His feet searched for a foothold between stones, rocks and low scrub. He set down his shovel, took out his mobile, and switched on the torchlight. It wasn’t a huge improvement, but it was enough for him to see his feet and the red wooden wall. He turned a corner, and a few metres later another dark window appeared. He carefully moved right up to the glass, and pointed the mobile’s light inside.

He couldn’t see much, but it was definitely Jakob’s kitchen. Matthew recognised the hard, marled plastic kitchen table with the dark-brown edges from the notebook. Even the white kitchen cupboards with the grey metal handles looked the same.

Matthew jumped when someone put a hand on his shoulder. His mobile slipped from his grip and glittered as it whirled towards the ground where it landed face-down in the gravel.

‘Relax,’ Malik said with a grin. ‘It’s only me.’

Matthew bent down to pick up his phone. ‘Shit, Malik. I’m standing here staring into a dead man’s home.’ He straightened up and breathed out, patting his chest softly a few times with his left hand. ‘You nearly gave me a heart attack.’

‘Sorry, mate. And I didn’t even mean to.’ Malik grinned again, but stopped quickly. ‘There’s nothing to see here, and there’s definitely no one at home.’

‘No, I agree. But Abelsen does live here, and there’s probably a reason for that. I just don’t understand how he could live here for forty years without making any changes at all.’

‘He’s always working,’ Malik said. ‘He doesn’t have a wife or children, and he’s known as the coldest and most powerful man in Greenland.’

‘I think it’s a trophy.’

‘A trophy? You mean, like a pair of antlers?’

‘Yes, exactly. This house is Abelsen’s hunting trophy. Acquired through a chase that cost many people their lives, and helped him up the last few steps to the throne.’

Malik turned up his nose. ‘An old house like this is hardly what I would call a trophy.’

‘It probably looked better in ’73, but it’s not the house as such that’s the trophy. He moved into it purely to demonstrate his power. He was untouchable even to the police and the politicians.’

‘I believe he still is,’ Malik said. ‘What are you doing with that shovel?’

‘It was just a daft idea. Somewhere underneath us is the skeleton of an eleven-year-old girl who was killed by an overdose in November 1973. Abelsen and Lyberth were both involved in the girl’s death.’

‘And now Lyberth is dead.’

‘And now Lyberth is dead.’ Matthew stared at the house. ‘If this is Abelsen’s trophy, then I want to get inside.’

‘Inside the house? Now? You mean, we break in?’

‘Yes. Now. We need to get inside that house while Abelsen is out.’

‘And you’re quite sure that he’s out?’

‘Yes, for a little while. Come on. You were the one who was all gung-ho about knocking on the door a minute ago.’

Malik nodded. ‘There are no open doors or windows. I checked when I walked around the house.’

‘Maybe there’s another way in.’ Matthew glanced around. ‘I’ll just take another look at the front door.’

Back outside the front door, he grabbed the handle and pushed it down hard a few times, before he gave up and started looking for a key in the porch. It didn’t make sense for a man like Abelsen to leave the key in such an obvious place, but you never could tell. While Matthew searched under some boxes stacked against the wall by the door, his ear picked up a sound. It was coming from the inside. Behind the door. He jumped up, and when the door opened at the same time, he stumbled back down the porch steps.

‘We’ve finally made a breakthrough,’ Malik stated proudly, beaming at Matthew from the doorway.

‘What? How did you get in?’ Matthew grabbed the railing and pulled himself back up.

‘Those old windows are so brittle… I’m afraid one of the kitchen windows just came apart in my hand.’

‘We’d better get a move on.’ Matthew walked past Malik, through the hall and into the living room. ‘We’re looking for anything from ’73. Film reels and so on.’

‘All right, but everything in here is from the seventies.’

‘Just start looking. Check the cupboards.’

Malik got to work immediately, opening cupboards and drawers and rummaging around in them. ‘How about magazines, cups, stuff like that?’

‘No, I think we’re looking for films, or something technical, like a notebook…’ Matthew ran his hand across Jakob’s coffee table, and looked at the grey rug underneath it. ‘Possibly a jigsaw puzzle of Godthåb.’ He continued towards the tall bookcase, which was laden with police magazines, books and rocks. There was nothing that pointed directly to the case.

‘Did you say films?’ Malik asked. He was sitting on the floor near the sideboard, and in his hands he held an old film projector. ‘I’ve also found four reels of film,’ he said, reaching his arm into the sideboard. ‘Is this what we’re looking for?’

‘Yes, I think so. Very much so.’ Matthew glanced about the living room again. The harpoon. The figures. Everything that was Jakob’s. The Hemplers’ things. ‘Right, let’s get out of here.’

‘With the reels and everything?’

‘Yes—we’ll keep them at my place.’

56

Matthew had only been back in his apartment for a few minutes when his entry phone buzzed. He looked down into the street. Darkness was starting to settle on Nuuk, but it felt lighter because the fog had moved up towards the night sky.

‘It’s me.’ He heard Tupaarnaq’s voice in the handset. ‘Are you alone?’

‘Yes,’ he said, and buzzed her in.

The lift hummed and the door opened with its clicking sounds.

‘You’re back late,’ she said, marching past him and into his apartment.

‘Yes, I… Have you been waiting for me?’

She unlaced her boots and kicked them off. She was wearing a new jumper—a black knitted rollneck. Her trousers were the same black ones with pockets down the sides. On top of her head was a thin, dark membrane of millimetre stubble.

‘They’ve found Lyberth,’ he said.

‘I know.’ She held up a black rucksack. ‘Do you have wi-fi?’

He watched her narrow back disappear into the living room, and went to get the code for the router from the bedroom.

‘What’s happening out there?’ she asked when Matthew returned to the living room, where she had sat down on the sofa, cross-legged, balancing her laptop.

He handed her the small white router lid with the code. ‘There were quite a lot of police around, and someone asked me why I had come to the police station with you and why we had gone seal hunting.’

She nodded slowly without looking up.

‘They want to talk to you,’ he added.

‘That’ll have to wait,’ she said, and looked up at him. ‘Do you have anything to eat?’

‘Food?’

‘Yes, food—what else? I haven’t had anything to eat all day.’

‘I don’t know what there is,’ he said, and went to check the fridge. ‘Do you eat eggs?’

‘Yes, I don’t mind eggs.’

Matthew took out a bowl and put a frying pan on the stove. ‘I’ll make you an omelette, then.’

She fell quiet behind him. He stood for a moment, looking at her hunched body in the yellow glow by the sofa. Her nose was small, and from where he was standing he couldn’t see a single freckle. She had pulled off the black rollneck jumper and was wearing a dark sleeveless vest underneath, like the first time he saw her at Cafe Mamaq. Her tattoos seemed alive in the artificial light, and the swirling, dark-green leaves reminded him of a dragon’s scales.

He looked away, and turned his attention back to the food. After whisking the eggs he poured them into the hot frying pan. He chopped up a couple of tomatoes and a red pepper, and added them to the mixture before the eggs started to set.

‘Salt? Pepper? Rosemary?’

‘I’m in now.’

‘In where?’ He turned around with a frown.

‘The server of the Greenlandic government.’

‘What?’

‘Their security is a joke.’

Matthew tipped the omelette onto a plate, which he brought her.

She looked up. ‘Aren’t you having some?’

‘I shared a pizza with my photographer a few hours ago… What are you doing on the government’s server? Can’t they trace you?’

‘I didn’t even break a sweat. And they couldn’t trace their own nose. Right, let’s take a look at Abelsen’s emails.’

‘What?’ Matthew exclaimed again, straightening up. ‘Is it all right if I sit here?’

‘Sure—it’s your sofa.’

She scrolled down a row of lines that looked like email subject headings. ‘I’ve searched for any emails he has received from Lyberth.’

‘Open the one with no subject heading from the day before yesterday.’ Matthew pointed at the screen.

‘You can look at it yourself,’ she said, passing him her laptop. ‘While I eat this. I would also like to use your shower.’ She eyeballed him. ‘And this time you stay away—understand? I can’t keep letting you live if you’re going to be such a moron.’

‘I’ll stay here, I promise.’ He looked up. ‘I can’t believe you managed to hack his emails. There are quite a few from Lyberth… most of them after the iceman was found.’

‘Anything about the murders?’

‘Lyberth seems worried that the old investigation might be reopened because of the iceman. Abelsen writes that he needs to calm down and let him fix things, as he always does. He sounds rather arrogant. Lyberth is afraid of how much might be revealed.’ Matthew opened another email. ‘Okay. Lyberth wants out, but Abelsen threatens him and says he needs to stick to their deal. Wow…’

‘What?’

‘Here Abelsen writes that Lyberth and Ulrik are both going down for the murder of the man on the ice.’

‘Does it say which man?’

‘No, just the man.’

‘So that could be the mummy or Aqqalu.’

‘Exactly. That’s the problem. But the tone is harsh, and there’s a lot of intimidation and threats.’

She put her fork down on her empty plate and moved closer to Matthew.

‘Fuck, he’s in Tasiilaq,’ he murmured.

‘Abelsen?’

‘Yes, right now. He writes here that they need to meet before he leaves for Tasiilaq.’

‘Does it say anything about where they’ll meet?’

Matthew opened another email and then another, but both times he shook his head. ‘They must have arranged that some other way. But it says here that they’re going to meet, and that was written on the same day Lyberth was killed.’

‘It’s not enough to acquit me,’ she said, rubbing the stubble on her scalp.

‘Not even the emails?’

She shook her head. ‘There’s no hard evidence of a crime. It’s all circumstantial. It’s not enough.’

Matthew closed his eyes. ‘Lyberth’s pet, Ulrik, is from Tasiilaq. Perhaps that’s relevant.’ He considered sharing Leiff ’s discoveries with her right then and there, but he couldn’t. Instead he said, ‘I met with a woman today. She’s the only person, apart from Abelsen, who is still alive from the ’73 case, which I’m sure is what Lyberth and Abelsen were arguing about.’

Tupaarnaq turned her upper body and looked at him. ‘Can she link the two men directly to the murders? Or the man on the ice?’

‘Ultimately, it’s about medical experiments on Greenlandic children, but also sexual assaults and child abuse at an orphanage in Tasiilaq. In late 1973 it threatened to become a major scandal, but Abelsen cleaned up the mess.’

‘Any physical evidence?’

‘I don’t think so, but I have a witness who was subjected to it all.’

‘I need to speak to her. What time is it?’

‘Eleven-thirty. It’s too late now.’

‘Then it’ll have to be tomorrow,’ she replied. She got up from the sofa, shut her laptop, and put it on the coffee table. ‘I’m off to take a shower.’

‘Yes, all right.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘There’s another thing.’

‘Go on.’

‘I got an email from someone claiming to be Lyberth, but it was sent after Lyberth was murdered. He wants to meet with me down at Nipisa.’

She frowned. ‘“Nipisa” means lumpfish.’

‘It’s a restaurant down by the old quay in Kolonihavnen. It’ll be deserted after closing hours.’

‘Do you think Abelsen sent it?’

Matthew nodded. ‘I’m pretty sure it was him. I have a notebook belonging to that police officer they killed in 1973. Abelsen wants it. As do the police.’

‘When are you meeting him?’

‘Friday night. Do you have your gun?’

She nodded. ‘My stuff is across the road. In the blue building.’

‘The small block scheduled for demolition?’

‘Yes, I’ve picked the lock of one of them. We can sleep there, if your place becomes too dangerous.’

57

The sound of running water from the bathroom was reassuring. Somewhere in the middle of it, Tupaarnaq was standing behind a wilderness of tattoos that seemed to move under the spray of steaming water and the purifying razor.

Matthew took out his own laptop and turned it on. From the sofa he could see the top of the building Tupaarnaq had broken into. He closed his eyes for a few minutes to organise his thoughts, and then began writing his story, basing it on Jakob’s notebook and the information he had gathered from Leiff, Ivalo and Paneeraq.

The words came quickly, and it took him just over an hour to finish the piece. Meanwhile, Tupaarnaq had emerged from the bathroom and sat down with her own laptop at the opposite end of the sofa.

He included everything. The abuse at the orphanage in Tasiilaq and in Nuuk. The brutal murders. The medical experimentation. The Danish doctor. The murder of the police officer investigating the case. The widespread sexual assault suffered by Greenlandic girls. He stated that he had interviewed a girl from the orphanage, and had access to Jakob’s notes about his investigation.

It was just past two in the morning when Matthew emailed the article to his editor. The bad weather over Nuuk had eased off, only to return with a vengeance. Outside his balcony door, the wind was shaking the houses again.

Matthew felt a craving for a cigarette as soon as he pressed Send, but he didn’t want to smoke when Tupaarnaq was with him. He clenched his fists, relaxed them, then clenched them again. ‘I’m just going downstairs for a moment.’

She looked up. ‘I’ll come with you. Don’t look so scared—I know perfectly well you’re going for a smoke. I don’t want to sit here on my own and wonder who’s trying to get in.’

‘But we’re the only ones here, and it’s the middle of the night.’

‘Yes… and I’m coming with you.’

Matthew found his cigarettes and lighter. There was no porch outside his apartment block, so they crossed the road and huddled outside the blue building, where the porch offered them some shelter. He pressed himself up against the wooden wall in order to avoid the rain whipping at his face. The wind tore at everything, and tossed the rain about. The raindrops felt like ice when they hit his skin. The tip of his cigarette lit up with every drag.

‘You need to quit that crap,’ Tupaarnaq said.

‘I know, but not right now… I’ve only been smoking for a few years.’

‘That’s long enough. It was stupid to start in the first place, especially at your age.’

‘Yes, I guess so.’ He took a final drag of the cigarette. He had smoked it so far that he caught the sharp taste of the filter. ‘I thought I might take up writing instead.’

‘Don’t you already make your living from writing?’

‘Yes, but not like that. Privately. I want to write a book for my daughter.’

‘If you had a daughter, you wouldn’t be standing here.’

‘No.’ Matthew rubbed his face. There was an acrid smell about his fingers. ‘But when my wife, Tine, was killed in a car crash, she was pregnant. We were expecting a little girl.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Tupaarnaq stared into the darkness. ‘You would have made a good dad.’

Matthew stared out into the rain. ‘Time to go back inside?’

‘In a moment,’ she said. ‘I prefer being outside.’

‘Freedom?’ he asked, not taking his eyes off the rain.

‘Yes.’ She had turned her face and was looking at him now. ‘Why did you come back to Greenland?’

He shrugged. ‘My life in Denmark fell apart. I had nothing. One day I was looking through some pictures and I found one from when we saw my father for the last time.’ Matthew raised his head and looked into her eyes. ‘I remember him giving me a model aeroplane that he had built himself when I turned four. An American B-52. It was in a bag and it reeked of glue. I don’t remember ever seeing him again. He promised to follow us, but he never did.’

‘Do you think you’ll find him? I mean, here, after today?’

Matthew shook his head. ‘No, and I don’t think it matters very much. I’ve been mad at him ever since I was a child.’

‘And now you have a sister instead.’

‘Yes… That hasn’t quite sunk in yet.’

‘Give it time and it’ll all fall into place.’

He stared at his boots and shrugged again. ‘I think she and I both really hate our father. Else, my half-sister’s mother, texted me soon after my visit telling me that Arnaq doesn’t want to have anything to do with a half-brother on her father’s side, so she couldn’t give me her mobile number. But at least they have mine now. We’ll have to wait and see.’

He was about to add something more but was interrupted by his mobile, which had started to buzz in his pocket. ‘Who on earth could that be?’ he mumbled as he took it out. ‘It’s my editor. I didn’t think he would be awake at this hour.’

‘Hello? Matt? We can’t print that. What the hell were you thinking? Nuuk is a small town, and you know it. It’s out of the question!’

‘I’m sorry for emailing you so late.’

‘That’s all right, I was up anyway. No, everything about that article is wrong—do you hear me? We just can’t print it. We can’t publish all those allegations. These are highly respected men you’re slinging mud at, and you’ve managed to drag a dead Minister for Greenland into it as well. It just won’t do. And I don’t see how you can have any evidence to support your claims. Corrupt business practices, fair enough, but this! Jesus, Matthew. And Lyberth’s body isn’t even cold yet. I was expecting a respectful article about his death, and you send me this!’

‘But it’s true, all of it. Surely we have to—’

‘Sermitsiaq isn’t a tabloid. A great politician has been found murdered, and before we even announce his death to our readers, you’re dragging his reputation through the mud… Along with that of Greenland’s most powerful civil servant.’

‘Every word I wrote is true. Read it again. I can produce a witness, and I have the police officer’s notebook.’

‘It’s still no good. It goes against all press ethics.’

There was silence. The wind and the rain pushed and pulled at Matthew.

‘Listen,’ his editor continued in a softer tone of voice. ‘When I get back to Nuuk, we can talk about it. I would like to see that notebook for myself. Let’s meet tomorrow morning when I’m back. Until then, cobble together a few words about Lyberth’s demise, but hold back the salacious details. The man is dead and the police are treating his death as suspicious. That’s all we need to write right now. No—on second thought, I’ll get one of the others to write his obituary.’

‘Okay,’ Matthew sighed. ‘Where are you now?’

‘Tasiilaq. My uncle’s birthday party. I’m flying home tomorrow.’

The call ended, and Matthew dropped his mobile back into his pocket.

‘The world is full of idiots,’ Tupaarnaq said, and briefly put her hand on his shoulder.

‘He’s in Tasiilaq, just like Abelsen.’

‘Greenland is a very small community.’

He nodded wearily. ‘I need to watch some movies.’

‘Movies? Right now?’

‘Yes, eight-millimetre films. I believe they were recorded in ’73 and show an eleven-year-old girl from the case back then. Najak—the one who was never found.’

Tupaarnaq clenched her fist, and her entire body tensed. The sinews on her neck stood out clearly. ‘What if it’s child porn? Can you cope with that?’

‘I don’t know, but I have to watch them.’ He breathed deeply, all the way down to his stomach. ‘I have to watch them. It’s the least I can do.’

As soon as they were back at the apartment, he hooked up the projector and fitted the first reel. Tupaarnaq turned off the light. The film flickered. The light bulb. The darkness. The light. The tiny body of the curled-up little girl. Matthew changed reels without saying a word.

Tupaarnaq sat on the sofa with her legs pulled up in front of her, her face half-buried in her knees. Her arms were looped around her legs. Her eyes were distant.

‘Wait!’ Matthew exclaimed. ‘There was a man. Did you see him?’

Tupaarnaq cleared her throat. ‘I saw him. Rewind the film… quick.’

Matthew reached out his hand and flicked a switch so the film played backwards. The blanket. The shadow. The naked Najak.

‘Stop,’ Tupaarnaq whispered hoarsely.

Matthew stopped the film and restarted it in slow motion, taking pictures of it with his mobile at the same time. ‘I’m going to send these to a friend at the newspaper. He might recognise something.’ He looked at Tupaarnaq, who was still curled up on the sofa. ‘Did you recognise anyone?’

She shook her head. ‘Only what’s happening.’

Matthew looked at her. ‘Are you all right?’

She shrugged. ‘No, but it’s okay.’ Then she leaned to the left and rested her head on his shoulder. ‘Why do people do these things?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said quietly, carefully leaning his head close to hers.

The film ran out. The rain was pelting the large windows and the balcony door.

‘I’m glad that you’re here,’ he continued.

Tupaarnaq moved away. Not with a jerk. She just shifted.

Matthew looked down at the sofa. ‘I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing.’

‘It’s okay…’ She patted his thigh. ‘You’re a good man.’

Matthew pressed his lips together. ‘Can you hack Sermitsiaq’s website, so that we can upload my article online ourselves?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Technically it’s not difficult, but I gather from your conversation with your editor that it might cost you your job.’

‘If Abelsen gets away with it, I’m guessing it’ll cost me my life—and I wouldn’t be surprised if he also gets you locked up for murder.’

Tupaarnaq shrugged.

‘Too bad,’ Matthew went on. ‘They’re not going to get away with this. They should have been stopped forty years ago.’

58

Matthew woke on the sofa under a blanket. It was morning, and the light had pierced the blanket fibres and found him. The wind was calm again.

He took out his mobile and brought up Sermitsiaq’s website. The article had already been taken down, but he knew it had been there. Some people must surely have seen it. Tupaarnaq had put it on the front page, along with photographs of the orphanage in Tasiilaq and two of Lyberth, one of which was taken when Lyberth was accused of sexual assault by a female government employee.

His mobile had been on silent, and Matthew could see that he had seven missed calls from his editor and a similar number of voicemails.

Leiff had called too, but only once. Rather than leave a message, he had sent him a text:

Matthew then noticed another text from Leiff:

It was still only nine-thirty in the morning, so he had plenty of time. Matthew didn’t bother listening to the voicemails from his editor. He googled a couple of sentences from his article to see if anyone had managed to copy it before it was taken down, but found nothing.

He heard the toilet being flushed. Feet crossing the floor. He sat up and pushed the blanket to the far end of the sofa.

‘You don’t have to pretend that you were awake.’

He looked at her questioningly, and ran a hand through his hair.

‘I heard you snoring a minute ago.’

‘I don’t snore.’

‘If you say so.’

She headed for the kitchen. ‘All right if I make some coffee?’

‘Sure.’ He cleared his throat, arched his back slowly and tilted his neck from side to side. ‘If you can find some.’

‘Well, you’ve got Nescafé,’ she said, with her head halfway inside the cupboard to the right over the kitchen sink. ‘That’s good enough for me. Would you like a cup?’

‘No, thanks—I don’t drink coffee.’

‘You should try it instead of cigarettes.’

The word cigarettes sent a frisson through his body, and he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at the packet and the lighter on the coffee table. ‘I need to go to the office to pick up something before my editor returns to Nuuk,’ he said.

Tupaarnaq was standing with her back to him, stirring her cup. She nodded slowly. ‘I saw that your article has been taken down,’ she said, turning around with the cup in her hand. ‘Are they up in arms about it?’

‘I just need to clear my desk and then I’ll get out of there. I’ve got some research to do—I want to check a few more things about the films.’

‘Okay.’

‘Someone from the paper has texted me to say that the man in the film is Abelsen.’

The coffee aroma reached his nostrils and slipped inside his mouth, where it unfurled and turned into an even stronger craving for a cigarette.

‘Watch your step when you’re outside,’ was all she said.

59

It took Matthew just a few minutes to clear his desk, and as it was only ten o’clock in the morning, he decided he might as well delete his old emails as well. Not that he had anything to hide. He just didn’t like the thought of other people going through his correspondence.

His parcel was in a drawer in Leiff’s desk. It was the safest place, Leiff had texted him—and that was undoubtedly true, because Matthew soon surmised from his colleagues that they all knew what had happened.

Before lunchtime, he had finished going through his mailbox and deleting files and passwords, and he clicked Shut down. He picked up his bag and went downstairs to see Leiff, who opened the drawer and handed the parcel to Matthew.

‘Take it home with you,’ he said with a smile. ‘And if you write another story, then send it to me and I’ll try to get it published under my by-line.’ He nodded in the direction of the parcel that was now in Matthew’s bag. ‘Looks like it might be exciting. You will text me once you open it, won’t you?’

‘Yes. I’ll go through it and see what I find.’

‘Sounds good. If things go wrong, then come over to my place.’

‘Okay, thank you.’ Matthew hesitated. ‘The pictures I sent you. Do you remember anything else? Might the container still be here?’

Leiff shook his head. ‘I don’t know. It could have been set down anywhere. Only I don’t remember there being so many of that size in Nuuk in 1973. Then again, it’s a long time ago, and it might have been left somewhere off the beaten track. I happen to know someone who has a container like that built into his house over on C.P. Holbøllsvej. I mean, from the outside it looks like a house. It has a roof, a window and everything, but it’s just a shipping container with wooden cladding.’

‘Could it be the same one?’

‘No, that one came up here just under ten years ago, so it can’t be. Only they’re similar, and his is also insulated and shiny on the inside.’ Leiff nodded to himself. ‘I’ll ask around.’

Matthew’s apartment was only a few hundred metres from Sermitsiaq’s offices, but his legs and his mind felt as though it was much further away. He felt like everyone was staring at him. Did people know? Had Abelsen returned to Nuuk? Were the police looking for him? He still hadn’t given the notebook back to Ottesen. Abelsen wanted it, but might well decide to have him killed anyway. Matthew spent several minutes looking about him before he inserted the key into his front door and let himself into the quiet, dry stairwell. He took the stairs rather than the lift, so that he would see if anyone was waiting on the landing.

He had bought himself some time by confirming that he would be outside Nipisa on Friday night with Jakob’s notebook, but he was well aware that he had twenty-four hours at best in which to get Abelsen arrested, unless he wanted to end up like Lyberth and the men from 1973.

His thoughts began to calm down. There was no one on the landing or outside his door, and it took him only seconds to let himself in and lock the door behind him. He wondered whether he should go to see Tupaarnaq in the blue building across the road rather than stay in his apartment, where anyone could find him, but he decided nothing was likely to happen in the next few hours. And if the police or his editor turned up, he could always pretend to be out.

The files inside the parcel covered most of his coffee table when he had finished spreading them out. They were not at all what he had been expecting, because they weren’t related to the orphanage, the girls, the medical experiments or anything that linked Lyberth to the 1973 case.

Matthew closed his eyes and slumped back on the sofa. The files contained nothing that would either support Jakob’s case from ’73 or acquit Tupaarnaq today. He couldn’t even be sure that it was Lyberth who had sent him the parcel, although Leiff believed it to be his handwriting on the package. Matthew took out a cigarette and lit it, and then got up from the sofa and walked across to the balcony door.

Then again, he mused, the films might prove damning for Abelsen, if they could show conclusively that he was the man in front of the camera. Abelsen’s habit of keeping trophies might very well have made him keep the container.

Matthew couldn’t see if Tupaarnaq was inside the blue apartment, but she probably was. It was even riskier for her to venture around Nuuk than it was for him.

There were several different types of documents in the parcel. Notes, printed spreadsheets, accounts, photocopies of receipts and expense claims. It looked like something prepared by an accountant. They had been organised into twenty-three different bundles, with a strong clip on each. Matthew looked around, then stubbed out his cigarette on the buff envelope. There was a yellow Post-it note stuck on each file with a name on it. Lyberth’s name was on one of them. On another was the name of the current Greenlandic prime minister, Aleqa Hammond, the country’s first female leader. Abelsen’s name featured too, as did several others whom Matthew recognised as senior government politicians.

Matthew fetched himself a beer from the fridge and sat down on the sofa with the files. He intended to review them one after the other, but was on only the second file when he twigged to what he had been sent. This wasn’t a simple record of expenses, but a list of government expenditure for which there was either no receipt or a receipt that had been faked in order to disguise private expenditure as public. It was money spent on travel, artwork, expensive flat-screens and designer furniture. It was an economic and political scandal at a time when the Greenlandic economy was on its knees. Misuse of public funds. If this information was ever made public, it would destroy not only Lyberth but also many other politicians and civil servants, depending on how extensive the subsequent investigation turned out to be.

Matthew shook his head. It might even bring down Abelsen, but he wouldn’t bet on it. Nothing beat a corpse, but this information was a start. It would undoubtedly have ended Lyberth’s career; now it would merely be just another nail in his coffin. However, it would most definitely cost Lyberth’s fellow party member Prime Minister Aleqa Hammond her job. Probably her entire government would fall. There was irrefutable evidence in the documentation of her personal use of public funds. She appeared to have spent public money on private plane tickets and hotel rooms for her family.

He smoothed his hair and stroked his stubble, then lit another cigarette and opened his laptop. There was more to this than he had first thought. It was a political scandal that would rock the whole of this small nation, which, with its first female leader, had otherwise been heading for unity and reconciliation. The outrage following in its wake would ruin everything and create division on several levels—the exact opposite of Hammond’s stated vision.

If it really was Lyberth who had sent him the parcel, then Matthew had no doubt that he had chosen to expose the financial scandal in the hope that the ensuing chaos might act as a distraction from the other scandal involving him, which was about to come to light after more than forty years in the dark. It was a smokescreen, in which Lyberth would be sacrificing everyone else to save what he could for himself and his family. All in vain, sadly, but Lyberth probably hadn’t expected to be killed soon after sending the parcel.

The smoke from Matthew’s cigarette settled around the laptop when he exhaled heavily and began writing a new story. This time about the abuse of public office and of public funds.

This story would be uploaded onto the Sermitsiaq website, but in the official way this time, with Leiff credited as the reporter. It would undoubtedly be taken down as well in time, but someone would read it before that happened, and Leiff would hand over the contents of the parcel to the police and file a complaint based on the three most serious cases of abuse of public office and misuse of public funds.

Matthew closed the Sermitsiaq tab and checked his inbox one last time before going out to find Tupaarnaq. There was only one new email:

60

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted soft and warm through Paneeraq’s living room. The two candles had been lit again, and like the last time her grandfather was sitting in his anorak with the hood over his head. His armchair was turned so that it faced the yard between Blocks 1 and 2. It was nearly three o’clock in the afternoon, but the heavy clouds above Nuuk made it seem dark outside.

Paneeraq had let them in immediately, and Tupaarnaq had gone with Paneeraq to the kitchen to make coffee. Matthew heard them talking in Greenlandic.

‘Impressive paintings,’ Matthew said, trying to break the ice when the two women returned, each with a cup of steaming coffee.

‘We brought them with us from Qeqertarsuatsiaat,’ Paneeraq said, sitting down in an armchair. Tupaarnaq took a seat on the sofa.

Matthew frowned. ‘Qeqertarsuatsiaat?’

‘Yes—its Danish name is Fiskenæsset. It’s a small village south of Nuuk. I’ve lived there ever since… well, you know.’

Matthew nodded slowly and absent-mindedly, while turning his attention to Tupaarnaq. ‘Have you ever mentioned that village to me?’

‘No, and I’ve never been there either.’

Then it dawned on Matthew where he had heard the name. Without thinking, he produced Jakob’s notebook from his bag and flicked through to the days when Jakob’s life imploded.

‘Lisbeth—you travelled to Qeqertarsuatsiaat with Lisbeth.’

Paneeraq smiled briefly and looked down at the table, before turning her gaze to the man in the armchair.

The old man turned his upper body and pulled his hood down, so that his face and hair were exposed to the blueish light. ‘You have my notebook, I see.’

Matthew nearly jumped out of his skin. He closed his eyes and clung to the notebook as if its contents were the last remains of his sanity. ‘But you’re—’

‘Dead?’

‘Yes.’

‘It was a close call. Perhaps only a matter of minutes, but in such circumstances a minute is all it takes.’ His fingers traced the drum skin. ‘And now we find ourselves in the same boat. Forty years on.’

Matthew was silent. He looked furtively at the old man.

‘Paneeraq has just had a visitor,’ Jakob continued. ‘Abelsen. He wanted the notebook.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Matthew croaked, rubbing his eyes and face with the heels of his hands. His stubble scratched his skin. ‘I’m in shock.’

‘There’s no need.’

‘But… I was so sure that you were dead.’ He stared at the old man. His face was wrinkled and pale, his hair sparse and white.

‘So were most people.’

‘The man from the Faroe Islands,’ Matthew then exclaimed. ‘The one you wrote about. He’s the one they found on the ice cap, isn’t he?’

‘I would think so,’ Jakob said. ‘But I haven’t seen the mummy, so I can’t say for sure. But it certainly scared Lyberth out of his wits—and now he’s dead.’

‘As are a young police officer and a fisherman,’ Matthew added. ‘They tried to pin the murders on Tupaarnaq because…’ He came to a halt.

‘I know about Tupaarnaq,’ Jakob said, and he smiled at her. ‘We had newspapers and the internet down in Qeqertarsuatsiaat.’ He took a deep breath and looked at Tupaarnaq. ‘I followed your case closely. You shouldn’t have been on your own. I’m sorry.’

Tupaarnaq tilted her head a little and looked at him. ‘Thank you. But I’ve always been alone.’

‘I know. You’re always welcome here, if you want to talk to someone.’

She gave a light shrug. ‘I don’t want to talk to anyone.’

‘No, I know that too, but sometimes it can be nice just to chat about seals, the tide and the colours of the ice.’ He gestured towards Paneeraq. ‘Paneeraq also lived in Tasiilaq once, and her parents were killed. You can share your thoughts with her, if you need to.’

‘You can,’ Paneeraq joined in. ‘My door is always open to you.’

‘Thank you.’ Tupaarnaq got up from the sofa. ‘Where’s the toilet, please?’

‘Let me show you,’ Paneeraq said.

Raindrops dotted the windows.

Matthew looked at Jakob in the armchair. ‘Can I ask how you escaped alive?’

Jakob turned his face away from the window and smiled at Matthew. ‘You must have been very confused after your visit here the other day. You should have said that you had read my notebook.’

‘I was under the impression that it was the killer who had written the last few pages. Only I don’t understand why he would do that… or her. The handwriting looks like a woman’s.’

‘It was actually the killer’s.’ Jakob turned his face back to the windows with a heavy sigh.

‘But you didn’t die,’ Matthew said.

‘That’s true. I’m referring to the woman who killed the men. I was right all along: the motive for the killings was revenge.’

‘But you didn’t report it and clear your name so you could stay in Nuuk?’

‘No, it was too late by then. And anyway, I couldn’t have done that to her. She was just like Paneeraq, only she was an adult. And I had to get Paneeraq out of Nuuk.’

He hesitated, then spoke again. ‘Ultimately, it was me who got the four men killed. My efforts to expose them. She heard everything. She read my files at the station without me noticing. Or maybe it never crossed my mind. All that coffee and cake. Her visit to my house.’

‘Lisbeth? Lisbeth killed the four men? She flayed and gutted them? And she killed Paneeraq’s mother?’

He nodded heavily. ‘Indeed she did. As a result of her own childhood.’ He looked up. ‘Did you know that in Greenland one girl in three is raped? In some villages, it can be as many as all of them, and they have to live with the trauma for the rest of their lives.’

‘Yes,’ Matthew whispered hoarsely. ‘I’ve read pretty much everything I could find of public reports and statistics.’

‘How could I ever have done anything but take Lisbeth and Paneeraq with me to a place of safety? We had a good life in Qeqertarsuatsiaat. We kept mostly to ourselves. Paneeraq went to school until she was fifteen, and from then on we taught her ourselves. Lisbeth and me, I mean. There’s a good library down there.’

‘And no one ever worked out your true identities?’

‘No, in that village the only thing people cared about was cod fishing. As far as they were concerned, I was just an eccentric Danish geologist, Lisbeth was my wife and Paneeraq our daughter.’

‘It was that easy?’

‘Yes, it was. I collected rocks, which was all the evidence they needed, and Lisbeth was Greenlandic.’

‘But she killed four innocent men and a woman.’

‘They weren’t innocent—I’m even more certain of that now. Except for Paneeraq’s mother. That haunts me to this day.’

Matthew shook his head and stared at the floor. ‘I don’t know what to say. She… she flayed those men and she gutted them. That’s…’ He shook his head again. ‘What did she do with their skins?’

‘She only did what she had been taught to do,’ Jakob said through a quick sigh. ‘She did exactly what her hands had done hundreds of times when she was a child. Nothing more. A dead body is a dead body.’ He shrugged. ‘We never spoke about it after that last night in Nuuk, so my knowledge is no greater than yours, and I’ve no idea what she did with their skins. Nor do I care, to be perfectly frank. My priority was the girls.’

‘And what about the puzzle piece?’

‘The puzzle piece?’

‘From your jigsaw puzzle. The one placed on the forehead of the final victim. She was willing to sacrifice you.’

‘Ah, the puzzle piece. I never asked her about it, but I don’t think she was trying to frame me. No, I think she was trying to send me a message. A message meant only for me. She didn’t think anyone else knew about the jigsaw.’

He glanced towards the hall. ‘Paneeraq has never really opened up about what happened in the time between the orphanage and the murders. Nor have we discussed that Lisbeth was the killer.’

‘So she doesn’t know who killed her parents, or that you and Lisbeth killed the Faroese man and chucked him into a crevasse in the ice cap?’

‘We’ve certainly never spoken about it. After I came round and realised what had happened, I was shocked and devastated. But what good was that? I couldn’t turn back the clock—it was impossible. So I stole a boat and we sailed to the bottom of a fjord with him. I pulled him across the ice on a sleigh on my own. It was a hell of a trip. We had to stop off at Kapisillit to refuel. I had wrapped him in some hides the Hemplers had left in the house, and I threw his intestines into the sea. We took Paneeraq with us, but she stayed in the wheelhouse and never saw what happened.’

He covered his face with his hands. They were thin and wrinkled. Shaped by a long life.

‘I thought the ice would eat that stupid Faroese, given how close we were to the outskirts of the ice cap, but I must have thrown him into a crevasse in a location where the ice movement was minimal. Or perhaps it wasn’t a crevasse, but just a crack in the rock with ice in it. It can be hard to tell in winter, and I didn’t dare go too far in.’

‘Well, whatever it was, he resurfaced,’ Matthew said. ‘Why did you move back to Nuuk?’

‘Why? I’m over eighty now, and Lisbeth died two years ago. I thought the time had come.’ He looked towards the door to the hall again. ‘I think we both needed to come back and unburden ourselves, should the opportunity arise. In our different ways.’

‘Are you hungry?’

Matthew looked up at Paneeraq, who was smiling at him from the doorway.

‘A little, but don’t you worry about that.’ He took his mobile from his pocket. ‘I have some pictures I’d like to show you. Perhaps you might recognise something. They may be of Najak when she was eleven years old. She’s in distress. Do you mind?’

‘Let me have a look.’

Matthew passed her his mobile.

Paneeraq took it and pressed her lips together. Then she nodded briefly before letting herself fall back into a chair. ‘I never expected to see that again.’

‘Can I get you anything?’ Tupaarnaq said, putting her hand on Paneeraq’s shoulder. ‘Water?’

Paneeraq shook her head. Wiped her eyes with her fingers. ‘No, thank you.’

‘You were there?’ Matthew said.

Paneeraq heaved a deep sigh. Her breathing trembled. ‘Yes.’

Matthew looked from Paneeraq to Jakob.

The old man shook his head. ‘I know nothing about that.’

‘I’ve never told anyone,’ Paneeraq said. ‘But I’ve been there. Just like Najak. All four of us were kept there for a couple of weeks after we came back to Nuuk. They called it quarantine—they said they were afraid that we might still be infected, but it was all a lie.’ She wrung her hands. ‘I’ve repressed it as much as my nightmares will allow me.’

‘So you too were imprisoned in the shipping container?’

‘Yes—I’ll never forget it, though I wish I could.’

‘Was the light flashing inside?’

She nodded. ‘There was a bright light bulb in the ceiling. It kept coming on and going off. All the time, although I soon lost any sense of day or night. There was only light or darkness. I was so scared of what they were going to do to me. Everything broke down inside me. And outside. In the end I wasn’t even sure whether I was alive or dead because everything was a blur. I think I wanted to be dead.’

Matthew stared at the floor.

Tupaarnaq had sat down next to Paneeraq. ‘Can you remember where it was?’ she asked gently.

Paneeraq nodded. ‘Yes.’ Her voice was hoarse. Almost gone. ‘I think so. I think maybe it was in Færingehavn. I’m not sure.’

‘You should have told someone,’ Jakob muttered from his chair.

‘I know,’ Paneeraq said. Now tears were streaming down her cheeks.

‘Rubbish,’ Tupaarnaq protested. ‘She was eleven years old and trying to escape her monsters.’

Matthew looked at Jakob. ‘Might it have been Færingehavn?’

‘Yes, it sounds about right. Both in terms of the distance from Nuuk and their Faroese lackey. And no one would bother them out there.’

‘We sailed for a few hours,’ Paneeraq said. ‘It wasn’t that far away. I remember there was a whole little village of wooden houses there, and the harbour was made from the biggest timber logs I’d ever seen in my life. It went on forever.’

‘That’s definitely Færingehavn,’ Jakob said.

‘I spent some days in a big grey house.’ Paneeraq stared at a distant point in space. ‘I could see some huge round buildings on the far side of the fjord.’

‘That will be Polaroil,’ Jakob said. ‘Those silos are still there… Everything is still there.’

‘Including the shipping container?’ Matthew said with raised eyebrows.

‘I’m almost sure of it,’ Jakob said. ‘The town of Færingehavn wasn’t abandoned until the early eighties, and since then everything has pretty much been left to rot.’

‘Doesn’t anyone live there?’

Jakob shook his head. ‘Færingehavn was a fishing station that the Faroese were allowed to build in 1927. I don’t know how many people lived there in its heyday, but it was quite lively the few times I visited it in ’71 and ’72. Today the place is deserted and the buildings are derelict.’

‘So why do you think the shipping container would still be there?’

‘Because everything was left behind. The inhabitants moved away over the course of a decade, and the last person to leave just turned the key and sailed off. It was too expensive to bring anything other than a suitcase. It’s like that up here. When people move away, most of their stuff is left behind. It costs a fortune to clear a village or a town, and Greenland is so big that no one sees the rot.’

Matthew looked at Tupaarnaq. ‘Can we gothere? To Færingehavn?’

Tupaarnaq nodded. ‘I don’t know where it is, but yes, I guess we can.’

‘Are you going to look for the shipping container?’ Jakob asked.

‘Yes,’ Matthew said, turning his attention back to the older man. ‘It’s probably a long shot, but if everything really was left behind, it might still be there. And if we can identify it, we might find traces of the girls and connect them to Abelsen.’

Jakob straightened up. ‘It’s worth a try. And there’s no statute of limitations for murder. You have a boat?’

Matthew shook his head.

‘We’ll get one,’ Tupaarnaq said. ‘It’s not a problem. I just need the coordinates so I can find the location.’

‘Shouldn’t we contact the police?’ Paneeraq said. ‘So you don’t go out there alone?’

‘We can’t.’ Tupaarnaq looked at Matthew. ‘No police—they… that’ll have to wait.’

‘That will have to wait,’ Jakob echoed. ‘But you should leave now if you want to get there before dark.’ He turned to Tupaarnaq. ‘Take a rifle. Just to be on the safe side.’

She smiled briefly. ‘I never go anywhere without one.’

61

The bottom of the boat hit the waves hard as it ploughed its way across the water, bump by bump. Tupaarnaq was pushing hard—their speed had been around thirty-five knots most of the way.

The sun had broken through the clouds, but had also crawled closer to the horizon during the final stretch of their voyage, and when they turned into Buksefjorden, they only had a few hours of proper daylight left. The mountains soon enclosed the sea, and less than fifteen minutes into the fjord, the first big Polaroil silos came into view. Shortly after that, on the opposite shore, they saw Færingehavn’s long timber quay.

‘It really does look trashed,’ Matthew said as his eyes scanned the quay and the warehouses. ‘It’s amazing that such places exist.’

The boat keeled slightly as it turned. Tupaarnaq peered at the shore. ‘I don’t think we can dock here. The quay is too high, and I can’t risk ripping a hole in the boat by sailing too close to the rocks.’ She looked over her shoulder. ‘You drop the anchor, and I’ll release the rubber dinghy.’

The anchor sank into the sea with a hollow plop and quickly hit the bottom. Matthew looked at the shore again. Most of the houses were medium-sized, made from wood and one or two storeys high, painted grey, red or green. They looked like old Swedish farmhouses. At first glance they seemed in good shape, but all the windows were smashed, the glass having been broken by bad weather or vandals. The wooden walls were peeling and dry. The metal roofing sheets were rusty and cracked in several places. Some sheets were missing altogether; Matthew could see the naked, pale wooden skeleton of one house whose rafters were exposed like a rib cage.

‘Grab this!’

Matthew took the rope Tupaarnaq was holding out to him. She freed the dinghy and turned it over in the air so that it hit the sea the right way up. ‘After you?’

He looked down at the water and nodded, then climbed into the small, grey rubber dinghy. It gave under his weight, and he could sense the sea through its soft bottom. He shifted to make way for Tupaarnaq.

‘I’ll row,’ she said, placing her rifle on the floor of the dinghy. ‘I want to get to that rusty ramp at the end of the quay.’

Matthew looked in the same direction as her. The end of the quay was thirty metres wide. Above it was a large, pale-grey building, partly constructed on huge iron posts immersed in the sea close to the shore. The metal roofing sheets were reddish-brown from rust. Several rusting oil barrels were stacked against the end of the building, and down by the rocks in the corner of the quay lay a torn green trawler net.

The iron ramp Tupaarnaq was aiming for wasn’t far away, and the moment the rubber dinghy touched it Matthew jumped up on the ramp. Tupaarnaq followed him and pulled up the dinghy high enough to stop it being taken by the tide, which could come in swiftly.

‘Do you think she’s here?’ she asked, as she pushed the boat under a rusty iron girder.

Matthew rubbed his chin, where his stubble felt increasingly dense, simultaneously soft and coarse. ‘I don’t know—it seems unlikely… Wow, this place really is a dump.’ He shrugged. ‘My friend Leiff told me it’s not unusual to turn a shipping container into a house, or build one around the container.’

She nodded and slipped the strap of the rifle over one shoulder. ‘I know about that from Tasiilaq. So are we checking every single house—is that your plan?’

‘Yes, I think it’s the only way.’ Matthew looked around. They could see about thirty big buildings, quite a few of them several storeys high. Most were residential houses of one sort or another, while those along the harbour were mainly warehouses. He pointed to a grey house right in front of them. ‘Let’s start here.’

The house was as damaged on the inside as it was on the outside, possibly more. The ceilings were discoloured and bulging ominously in places. Most of the doors had come off their hinges. Toilet basins and sinks had cracked from frost. Cupboards and furniture were wrecked, as the broken windows had given storms, rain and snow free rein for decades. Old bits of paper were scattered about everywhere. Matthew picked up a 1962 Yellow Pages.

Behind him something heavy was pushed across the floor. ‘This pile of crap is close to collapsing,’ Tupaarnaq panted. ‘Besides, these rooms are too small. I think they must have been offices.’

Matthew nodded. ‘It looks like it.’

‘Let’s try the red house further up,’ she said, and left through the front door.

Matthew followed her down the steps and across the tall, half-withered grass.

The next building was low, but fairly wide, and had an extension in the centre that looked like the main entrance. Every window had been smashed, and the only pieces of glass left in the frame were small, sharp teeth in a black mouth. The roofing felt was sun-bleached and weatherworn. The paint was peeling badly, but still identifiably red. The front door had been kicked in, and it had been a long time since it could shut properly.

‘God almighty,’ Matthew exclaimed. ‘Any idea what this place used to be?’

‘Maybe a club or something?’ Tupaarnaq said, bending over a green velvet sofa whose cushions and upholstery had been ripped up. She nudged a pile of what looked like trash on the floor. ‘Take a look. Someone’s been knitting.’ She looked up at Matthew.

‘This is so weird.’ He saw an old record-player on the floor, along with other broken things. ‘They really did just walk out one day without taking anything.’

Tupaarnaq continued across the room and pressed a few keys on a collapsed piano. ‘This place looks like it could have been a community hall. There’s a stage and everything.’ She turned to Matthew. ‘I don’t think we’ll find your shipping container here.’

He shook his head.

Outside, the sun was approaching the mountains behind the furthest house. They could see approximately two hundred metres across the flat plain.

‘I can see tracks,’ Matthew exclaimed, looking down along a set of rusty metal rail tracks running inland. The tracks ended near some low, rusty wagons that stood close to a long concrete wall, similar to the kind of dam that generates electricity in Norwegian rivers. ‘They have to be the only railway tracks in Greenland, surely?’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ Tupaarnaq said. ‘There are definitely no tracks on the east coast.’ She looked towards the most built-up area. ‘I don’t think we’re going to get back to Nuuk today.’

Matthew followed her gaze.

She looked back at him. ‘It’ll be dark before we’re done searching, and sailing along a coast we don’t know in the dark would be madness.’

‘So what do we do?’

‘Sleep here or on the boat, I guess.’

‘Are there any sleeping bags on the boat, do you think?’

‘No, but we can improvise.’

‘Okay.’ He looked around the abandoned town. Then he took a deep breath and shrugged. ‘Let’s walk down to the harbour and check out the big warehouses before it gets completely dark.’

They zigzagged through the scattered houses across the town on their way back to the harbour. A dozen buildings, all different, lay along the wooden quay, which stretched for over a hundred metres. Some were several storeys high and had windows, while others were entirely enclosed except for large gates at the ends.

While they searched the warehouses one after the other, Matthew’s mind was working overtime. The hours had rushed by so fast that he hadn’t had time to think about consequences or repercussions. He looked at the back of Tupaarnaq’s neck. At the top of her rollneck jumper he could just make out the edge of the dark wilderness underneath her clothes. She had pushed down her hood and her head was exposed. ‘If we find her,’ he said hesitantly. ‘Najak, I mean… Is that when we call the police?’

She turned around and glared so harshly at him that he could practically feel her fingers digging into the sinews along his collarbone.

‘You’re not going to be an idiot again, are you?’

‘No, but I—’

‘What? No matter what we find, you and I are both going straight to jail… Or at least I am.’ She looked down. ‘Join the dots, for fuck’s sake.’

Matthew followed her gaze. In the dirt between them lay a faded green magazine. Indre Missions Tidende, Sunday, 25 September 1983. Issue 130: ‘God is the Power and the Glory’.

‘Besides, there’s no mobile coverage here.’ She kicked the magazine with her boot. ‘Let’s move on.’

Matthew bent down and picked up a sturdy copper hammer from the floor. It was heavy, probably weighing several kilos. He tried to imagine how strong the arms of the man who once wielded it must have been.

The next building they reached was windowless. It was a rectangular warehouse with an arched metal roof. The building was secured with a thick steel chain and a strong, rusty padlock, and they had to smash the door in order to get in. Each blow sounded like an explosion in the deserted town as the iron and corrugated metal slowly gave way and a gap opened up big enough for them to wriggle through.

Once inside, they could smell old oil and salt water. The floor was concrete to begin with, but about two-thirds of the way in it became worn wooden planks.

Matthew looked across the floor. ‘I’m not sure that section is safe to walk on.’

Tupaarnaq switched on the torch on her mobile and pointed it across the floor. ‘Look,’ she whispered.

Matthew had spotted it at the same time, and quickly took out his own mobile and found the torch. At the far end of the room, up against the end wall, was an old, rusty freight container. ‘That could be it.’

She nodded.

Matthew felt a chill go down his spine as he carefully stepped out onto the wooden floor.

When they reached the container, Tupaarnaq put her hand on one of the sturdy handles. She pulled it so hard that her entire body shook. ‘It’s completely rusted in place.’

Matthew put his mobile and the hammer on the floor and tried with both hands, but still the handle didn’t budge. ‘Could you light up the handle for me?’

Tupaarnaq nodded, and Matthew picked up the hammer. He took a step forwards and gave the handle a good whack. ‘My God, it’s heavy,’ he groaned. He swung the hammer again, this time holding it with both hands. The sound hurt their ears, and the echo bounced off the curved steel roof.

‘Do it again,’ Tupaarnaq said, kicking the cross member of the big metal gate. ‘It’ll shift in the end with a bit of luck.’

Matthew swung the hammer with all his strength a third time. When it collided with the handle, it felt like electric shocks were darting through his forearms. The handle of the hammer was two solid iron rods that were bent by the force with which it had been used back in the 1980s. The handle had been welded together with a bracket that ran around the copperhead itself. He struck the lock again. The recoil up through his arms was so severe that he dropped the hammer. He narrowed his eyes and rubbed his neck.

Tupaarnaq put her mobile on the floor and pushed the hammer away with her boot. Then she placed both hands on the handle and pushed it a couple of times. ‘Help me, will you? On three, okay?’

She counted and they both pulled outwards as hard as they could, and finally they felt the lock give and the handle follow suit. The door behind the lock and the iron handle surrendered in squealing complaint.

Tupaarnaq grabbed the door, which was several metres high, and pulled it. She had to press all of her weight against the iron to create a gap wide enough for her to slip through.

Matthew heard her sigh.

‘This is it,’ she whispered.

He held up his mobile, letting the light sweep the floor and the shiny walls. There was a dry, metallic smell inside. He closed his eyes and his heart skipped a beat. Up against the wall, in the far corner of the container, was a green blanket. He heard Tupaarnaq’s footsteps across the floor.

‘There can’t possibly be anything under that blanket,’ she said.

Her voice was trembling. It felt heavy in the empty metal box.

‘She was only eleven years old,’ Matthew whispered and opened his eyes again. ‘A little girl.’

Tupaarnaq bent over the blanket. Took hold of one of its folds.

Matthew heard her sigh again. He could see the white knuckles on her clenched hand on the fabric. She lifted it gently. It seemed dry. Stiff. Something crumbled. Scattered over the stiff folds. She stopped and let the blanket fall back. She turned around and walked towards Matthew, her eyes fixed on the narrow container exit. ‘Time to go.’ Her words were gusts of air.

‘Najak?’ He could barely hear his own voice.

‘Just come with me. We need to find somewhere to spend the night.’

62

Matthew was woken by someone tugging his arm. The room was in total darkness, which meant it must be between midnight and three o’clock in the morning. He could feel the old, battered mattress through his clothing, the springs digging into his back.

Someone pulled his arm again, and he turned over. The jacket under his head hadn’t been a good pillow and the stiff muscles in his neck complained.

‘There’s someone in the house,’ Tupaarnaq whispered.

They had found a couple of rusty beds with mattresses in one of the houses. It lay away from the rest of the ghost town; it appeared to have had a canteen on the ground floor, while the first floor consisted of a long corridor with small rooms leading off it.

The night air blew in through the broken windows. The floor was covered by detritus. Plaster. Wallpaper. Fraying fabric. Shards of glass. Most doors were damaged, either by age, weather or vandals. He heard a crunching sound coming from the corridor.

‘Did you hear that?’ Tupaarnaq tugged at his arm again.

He nodded. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he could see her sitting upright with the rifle in front of her.

‘There shouldn’t be anyone here,’ she said in a hushed voice, while she slowly loaded the weapon, letting something fall into place with a quiet click.

Matthew rose to his knees on the mattress. There was more than one pair of boots out in the corridor. Two, at least. He stood up and moved next to Tupaarnaq. ‘Could it be people who got stranded, like we did?’

She shook her head. ‘I think that’s highly unlikely.’

‘Maybe we can get out through the window?’ Matthew continued, and took a step backwards so he could look out the window and down at the ground. There were shards of glass all around the window frame.

The crunching of the boots grew louder. Matthew looked at the rocky ground five to six metres below them and shook his head. ‘We’ll have to leave through the door.’

Tupaarnaq nodded. Matthew turned around. As he did, he could sense the sound through his boots before he heard it—a glass fragment breaking under his boot.

The corridor fell quiet.

‘Why have you stopped?’

The voice was Danish. Adult. Sharp.

‘I heard something.’

The other voice was deep and heavy.

Tupaarnaq looked towards Matthew’s boot. ‘Idiot.’

Matthew shrugged. ‘They would have found us sooner or later.’

‘Speak up,’ the sharp voice said out loud. ‘There’s no point whispering anymore.’

‘That sounds like Abelsen,’ Matthew whispered.

Tupaarnaq raised the rifle to her shoulder. The muzzle was pointed at the open door.

‘I bet you never thought you would run into me here, eh, Matthew? Did you really think this place was completely deserted? You’re so naive. My friend Bárdur here lives just across the road. At the bunker fuel point.’

Matthew looked at Tupaarnaq’s rifle. It was wedged in the hollow between her chin and neck. Her shoulders were calm. Her muscles tense.

‘He doesn’t care about the notebook, but I still want it. Did you bring it? You probably did—you’re such a fool.’

Matthew shook his head. Tupaarnaq nodded grimly.

‘Are you in there?’ Abelsen went on. ‘I’m getting bored out here.’

There was silence for a moment. Then the crunching resumed and grew closer. A few seconds later, a dark silhouette loomed at the doorway. He was enormous. He almost filled out the space completely.

The first shot sent a shock through the room, paralysing Matthew’s thoughts. The silhouette disappeared with a short, deep roar.

‘Run,’ Tupaarnaq hissed.

Matthew leapt towards the door. ‘Left?’ The giant had come from the right.

‘Yes—there are stairs going down at both ends.’

Matthew took a deep breath and ran out through the door. The corridor was dark. At one end, moonlight poured in through a broken door. Matthew didn’t have time to see whether there were two or three silhouettes outside before Tupaarnaq fired another shot, this time into the darkness of the corridor. He completed the short distance to the corner by the stairs in a couple of long strides, then felt himself slip on the steps, the wood bashing against his back. He grabbed hold of the banister and scrambled to his feet. He continued stumbling down the stairs. Behind him he could hear running footsteps everywhere.

‘It’s only me,’ Tupaarnaq shouted. ‘Run, goddammit… Run towards the water!’

He took a sharp right at the bottom of the stairs and headed for the front door. Another rifle shot cut through the night. Her third.

Outside, the darkness seemed less solid. The sky was pink behind the mountains on the far side of the fjord.

‘Run, damn you,’ Tupaarnaq shouted behind him.

He sprinted down the short wooden footpath that connected the house to the rest of the town. His legs were going at full speed, and he knew they would soon be crippled by lactic acid. Everything began to cramp. His lungs were hurting. His blood boiling.

The buildings along the quay grew bigger with every step he took in the pink dawn. The damaged wooden walls and the black broken windows.

‘We need to get to the boat now,’ Tupaarnaq wheezed behind him. She was panting too.

He lunged forwards when they reached the iron posts and grabbed the dinghy, which fell limply into his hands.

Tupaarnaq crashed into him as she, too, reached for the dinghy. ‘Shit.’ She looked across the water. ‘We’ll have to swim.’

A shot was fired across the sea and they heard a hissing sound in the air close to them. They both threw themselves onto the ground.

‘They must have someone on their boat,’ Matthew gasped. His voice was trembling and black spots were dancing in front of his eyes. ‘We need to get out of here.’

Tupaarnaq glanced over her shoulder. Not far behind them, Abelsen and Bárdur had emerged. Out on their boat was a man with a rifle.

‘You missed him,’ Matthew whispered.

‘I fired at the ceiling.’

Another shot tore holes in the air above them.

‘Stop shooting, for fuck’s sake!’ Abelsen shouted somewhere in the darkness.

‘Come with me,’ Tupaarnaq whispered.

Matthew followed her round the back of the warehouse at the end of the quay. They sought refuge behind the iron posts under the building. The darkness was dense down here. He could hear Tupaarnaq breathing in short, shallow gasps. Water sloshed around the posts.

She looked at him. ‘We need to get to the boat… it’s only thirty metres.’

‘But the water can’t be more than two degrees—what if we get cramps?’

‘Then we drown. It’ll be quick when the body is that cold. Now shut up.’

‘Hello?’ Abelsen’s voice interrupted them. ‘Bárdur kindly let the air out of that little rubber dinghy you used to get ashore.’

Matthew watched as Tupaarnaq sized up the sea. The water was black, so it was impossible to spot any rocks under the surface.

‘You see, Matthew,’ Abelsen went on, ‘Bárdur is a very helpful man these days. He grew up here when this was a busy town, and he’s the last one still hanging around. He has always believed that one day he would get the opportunity to avenge the death of his father. That’s all that matters to me. He doesn’t give a toss about the notebook… or your lives. He just wants Jakob, and I can help him with that, now that you have been kind enough to track him down for me.’

‘Ignore him,’ Tupaarnaq whispered. Her dark eyes gleamed like the sea below them.

Matthew shook his head.

‘Matthew, are you there?’ Abelsen called out. ‘Bárdur has no use for you. He just wants Jakob. So if you give me the notebook and the film reels, I’ll let you go.’

The water broke in silent ripples as Tupaarnaq let herself slip through the surface. She looked up. ‘If they hear us, it’s over,’ she whispered.

Matthew nodded and lowered his feet and legs into the sea. The cold bit into his skin immediately, and he had to fight every instinct not to jump straight back out. Instead he submerged his whole body in the sea, leaving only his head free. Every part of him screamed in pain. His skin contracted. He gasped for air. Briefly. Silently.

‘Think happy thoughts,’ Tupaarnaq whispered. ‘Distract your mind and relax, then your brain will leave your muscles alone.’

He nodded. ‘Okay… Fuck… Okay.’

Her head started to glide slowly along the surface. She made no sound at all. Every movement happened underwater.

The rocks disappeared from under Matthew’s boots and he began to tread water. He followed her slowly. The skin under his clothes burned from the cold.

‘No sudden movements,’ she warned him.

Matthew’s throat was cramping too much to speak. He just carried on swimming. Carefully. As if drugged. Right under the surface. The salt water flowed around his face. It cut into his cheeks and lips. His thoughts were jumbling with thousands of images. Tine. Her belly. The red Mercedes. I’m going to die out here, he thought. This is it.

The cold ate him up. It tore chunks off his flesh. He closed his eyes. They were halfway at best. His legs stopped kicking. I’m coming, he thought. The blue Golf rolled over. His body surrendered. One ear hurt. Insanely. As if someone was trying to pull it off. His eyes opened. Tupaarnaq’s hand.

‘Get your shit together,’ she whispered. ‘We’re nearly there. Come on, you wimp.’

He nodded. He shook his head to clear his mind.

Somewhere behind them Abelsen was calling out into the early summer dawn. Matthew heard the words ‘bring in the boat’.

Seconds later, Abelsen’s boat, which was anchored not far from them, started with a roar. Tupaarnaq pushed Matthew’s head under the surface, and at the same time grabbed his jacket. They resurfaced soon afterwards. Matthew’s face felt as if someone was stabbing it with icepicks.

‘Come on,’ she ordered him.

Abelsen’s boat motored towards the shore. Matthew couldn’t hear what the three men were saying to one another over the engine noise.

He grabbed the stern of their boat and slowly pulled himself up. His body was shaking so badly that he could barely support his own weight.

Tupaarnaq came out of the water right after him and collapsed on the deck close to him, near the wheelhouse.

‘Do you know how to use a rifle?’ she stuttered.

He shook his head.

‘Well, now’s your chance to learn,’ she said, sitting up and taking the rifle from her shoulder. She pulled out the magazine and drained the water from it. Then she pulled the bolt back and checked the chamber, before she let the bolt slot into place again. She cocked the rifle and loaded it. ‘Here.’

Matthew took it and struggled to his knees, while Tupaarnaq raised the anchor.

‘I’ve just checked the battery,’ she said. ‘As soon as you hear me turn on the ignition, you fire at Abelsen’s boat. The distance is very short—you can’t miss.’

Matthew nodded. ‘I understand.’

‘Don’t forget to press the butt hard against your shoulder before you pull the trigger. And don’t drop it—all right?’

He nodded again.

A few minutes later their engine made a noise. And then another one. Deeper. The propeller started whipping up the black water. Matthew raised the rifle to his shoulder. The icy steel bit into his fingers as he aimed the rifle at the silhouette on the other boat. Then he fired. One shot. Two.

The boat beneath him roused itself from the water so forcefully that he nearly toppled over the stern, and he grabbed onto the frame that had held the rubber dinghy. He brought the rifle back up to his cheek, but they were already so far away that shooting again was pointless.

63

It was just past eight in the morning when Matthew and Tupaarnaq knocked on Paneeraq’s door and hurried into the living room, where Jakob was waiting.

The first thing they had done on their return to Nuuk was to put on some dry clothes at Matthew’s place. The heater had been on full blast in the boat, but it hadn’t been enough to dry their clothing.

Tupaarnaq had pressed the boat harder than she’d wanted to, but the dawn light crawling lazily over the eastern mountains had helped her navigate the sea and the rocks.

As soon as they were close enough to Nuuk to have mobile coverage, Matthew had texted a summary of events to Malik, who had promised to forward it to Ottesen so that the police could despatch a helicopter to Færingehavn as quickly as possible. Matthew had then sent an email to jelly@hotmail.com:

Tupaarnaq hugged Paneeraq, while Matthew told them about Færingehavn, Bárdur, Abelsen and the shipping container.

‘Did you see her?’ Paneeraq wanted to know, looking from Matthew to Tupaarnaq. The tears that had welled up in her eyes began rolling down her cheeks. ‘Did you see her. Properly?’ Her voice cracked.

‘It was her,’ Tupaarnaq whispered. ‘She was in the shipping container.’

Paneeraq dissolved in Tupaarnaq’s arms and slipped down on the sofa. ‘So she… she died… inside that thing… in that place.’ She looked up with a jolt. ‘How did she look?’

‘Yes, she died,’ Matthew said hoarsely. ‘She died soon after the film was recorded.’

‘But what did she die from?’ Paneeraq wanted to know. ‘How did she die?’

‘I don’t know,’ Tupaarnaq said. ‘But she was dressed, and I don’t think that she had been beaten.’

Matthew glanced at Tupaarnaq.

Paneeraq slumped again. Her shoulders trembled. Tupaarnaq sat down next to her and pushed up her sleeves before putting her arms around Paneeraq.

Paneeraq looked up. ‘That jumper is far too big for you, child.’

Tupaarnaq smiled wistfully. ‘It’s Matthew’s—I borrowed it from him. My own clothes got wet.’

‘Oh, dear.’ Paneeraq straightened up and dried her eyes with her fingers. ‘Why don’t we go to my bedroom—I think I might have a jumper that would fit you.’

‘All right, let’s do that,’ Tupaarnaq said.

Matthew turned to Jakob. ‘Abelsen is finished. I have the notebook, the film reels and the fake expenses receipts, and then there’s Najak’s body.’

‘Did she really look the way you told Paneeraq?’

Matthew stared at the floor. ‘No.’

‘I didn’t think so.’

‘I hope they catch Abelsen and the Faroese who wants to kill you.’

‘All I ever did was hide the body, but he probably doesn’t care about that.’

‘It was Abelsen who said it. That he wanted to kill you.’

Jakob nodded and heaved a deep sigh. ‘We’ll have to wait and see.’ He looked up. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve sat waiting for an angry Faroese who wants me dead.’

‘No, but this time your odds are pretty poor.’ Matthew hesitated briefly. ‘Did you know that Karlo’s son lives here in Nuuk?’

Jakob looked at him in surprise. ‘No, I didn’t know that. I’m afraid Karlo himself is dead.’

‘Yes, but his son is a police officer. He’s the one who gave me your notebook.’

‘Aha—now I understand.’

‘I’ve been thinking that we should contact him and ask him to come over so he can hear everything firsthand.’

Jakob tapped the drum by the side of his armchair. ‘Karlo’s son. Yes… yes. Do it. Let’s do that.’

Matthew took out his mobile and texted Malik. He didn’t have Ottesen’s number, but asked Malik to contact Ottesen—and only him—and tell him that Matthew, Tupaarnaq and Jakob Pedersen were in Block 2 with Paneeraq and the notebook.

Malik replied immediately that he would get hold of Ottesen and tell him to come over.

‘There, that’s done,’ Matthew sighed. He slumped back on the sofa.

Tupaarnaq and Paneeraq returned to the living room. Tupaarnaq was now wearing full Greenlandic national costume.

‘Isn’t she beautiful?’ Paneeraq exclaimed in a bright and happy voice.

‘Oh, so that’s what you were up to,’ Jakob said.

‘I know it’s a bit too small,’ Paneeraq went on, ‘but when I showed Tupaarnaq my national costume, she said she’d never worn one.’

‘The boots are too tight,’ Tupaarnaq said shyly. ‘Apart from that, it’s all right, I think.’

‘You look amazing,’ Jakob said loudly. ‘Absolutely wonderful.’

Matthew stared at the young Inuit woman in the colourful, voluminous costume. The sturdy, beige leather boots with scalloped and patterned trimmings. The black sealskin trousers. The beautiful lilac shades of the cummerbund around the waist of her scarlet jacket. The glass bead shawl reaching from her neck down to her waist, covering her chest in a carpet of tiny beads sewn into fine, bright patterns.

His thoughts moved to her skin underneath it all. Her heavily tattooed body was now hidden beneath this explosion of colour and femininity. The contrast seemed infinite. If her hair had grown out in that very same moment, she would have looked like a completely different person. The costume reached up around her neck, where it ended in several overlapping collars. White, red and black.

‘I made it myself,’ Paneeraq said, still smiling. ‘And I’ve offered to make one for Tupaarnaq too, although it’ll be a West Greenland national costume for a girl from the east.’

‘But I can’t accept that,’ Tupaarnaq objected. ‘I told you, I know how expensive they are. So I’ve said no. Nor do I deserve it.’

‘Deserve it?’ Jakob exclaimed. ‘You deserve everything, child.’ He turned his attention to Matthew and pointed to a small, green-painted wooden box on the floor. ‘Please, would you take a look inside that chest?’

Matthew slid aside a small metal bolt and opened the lid. Lots of little stones, but also a few bigger ones, lay at the bottom. They looked like dusty red granite. Some were redder and shinier than others.

‘You can buy a lot of national costumes with that,’ Jakob said, grinning.

Matthew looked up at him. ‘Greenlandic rubies?’

‘Yes—I told you I collected rocks, didn’t I?’ He was still smiling from ear to ear. ‘In that chest you’ll find rubies and pink sapphires, my friend. I began collecting rocks up here long before everybody else. Mount Aappaluttoq. The name alone drew me to it—it means the red mountain.’

Matthew’s mobile buzzed in his pocket, so he closed the lid of the chest and took out his phone. It was a text message from Malik: I couldn’t get hold of Ottesen, but I got them to call him on the police radio, so now he knows to drive to your address.

Matthew shook his head, but before he could tell the others, there was a knock on the door. He jumped; he hadn’t had time to warn Tupaarnaq that Ottesen was coming. Now it was too late. Paneeraq was already making her way to the door, and Tupaarnaq was standing in the middle of the room, brightening it up in her national costume.

‘Tupaarnaq.’ Jakob’s voice cut through the chaos that was Matthew’s thoughts. ‘I’ve only ever had one friend I could trust, and today his son is a police officer here in Nuuk. I’ve asked him to come over because I want to tell him everything, and so that you and Matthew can be eliminated from this enquiry and left in peace. We have plenty to tell the police, and it will acquit you both of all charges. I hope you can find it in your heart to trust me today.’

She glowered at him, but then her gaze softened. ‘I’m not going back to prison.’

‘You won’t.’

At that moment they heard a scream from the front door, and then a bang as it was slammed shut. Another scream followed, but this time it was more strangled and suppressed.

Paneeraq was shoved into the living room. A hand holding a long knife was pressed up against her neck. The blade pushed so tightly against her throat that droplets of blood were running down the skin towards her collarbone.

‘Ulrik?’ Matthew exclaimed, staring at the angry young Greenlander. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘Shut up,’ Ulrik hissed through white, strained lips. ‘I’ll cut her if you move.’ His gaze bored into Tupaarnaq, and he pulled out a bag of long, black strips from his pocket and tossed them onto the floor in front of Matthew. ‘Tie her hands behind her back.’

Matthew hesitated.

‘Fucking do it—or this old cow here is dead. Do you understand?’ He tightened his grip on the knife.

Paneeraq squirmed, but didn’t dare do anything other than whimper.

‘It’s all right,’ Tupaarnaq said. ‘Tie me up.’

Matthew moved towards her, and she placed her hands behind her back.

‘I want you to use three strips,’ Ulrik ordered him angrily. ‘Have you done it?’

Matthew tightened another two strips around Tupaarnaq’s wrists, then he nodded and straightened up.

In the meantime, Ulrik had tied a couple of strips around Paneeraq’s wrists. Now he pushed her towards the sofa and faced Matthew. ‘Turn around!’ Ulrik grabbed Matthew’s hands and had soon slipped a thin plastic strip so tightly around Matthew’s wrists that it cut into the skin. Then he turned his attention to Jakob. ‘Who are you?’

‘A former officer with Nuuk Police.’

‘Yeah? Well, screw you,’ Ulrik grunted angrily.

Matthew felt Ulrik’s boot collide with the back of his right leg, and he buckled and crashed onto the floor on both knees.

‘Hey,’ Tupaarnaq shouted, taking a step towards Ulrik. ‘What the hell are you doing, you psycho?’

Ulrik punched her hard in the face with his clenched fist. ‘You bitch,’ he screamed. ‘Shut your mouth, you fucking slag!’ He leaned forward and followed up the punch with a blow to her stomach. ‘I’m going to rip that fucking costume off you. You’re no Greenlander anymore.’

Matthew tried getting to his feet, but received a hard kick to his thigh at the same time as Ulrik grabbed his head and yanked it backwards. The blow to his face made him black out.

64

Matthew woke to a fierce pain shooting through his body from the right side of his ribs.

Ulrik was bent over him, staring into his eyes. ‘I’m going to beat you to a pulp,’ he snarled as he drew back his clenched fist.

‘Ulrik,’ a voice interrupted him. ‘I know why you’re here.’

‘Shut up, you old fool,’ Ulrik hissed.

‘But you’re wrong,’ Jakob continued from his armchair. ‘I investigated your family’s murder from a distance, based on all the evidence I could find, and I’m absolutely sure that your sister didn’t kill your mother or your sisters.’

‘That’s it—I’m going to bloody well kill you first,’ Ulrik bellowed, getting up from the floor. ‘Don’t you dare say another word about my mother, you bastard! Do you understand?’

He reached Jakob in seconds and pulled the hood from the old man’s head, revealing his white hair and pale, wrinkled face. The old man’s ice-blue eyes bored into the young Inuit’s boiling brown void, even as Ulrik gripped Jakob’s throat.

‘What the hell?’ Ulrik was suddenly taken aback. ‘You… You… How would you…’

‘Tupaarnaq never killed your family,’ Jakob continued in a wobbly voice as Ulrik’s hand was still clamped around his soft neck. ‘Your father shot your mother and your two sisters. Then Tupaarnaq came home and presumed that her father had been caught raping her sisters, just like he had raped her. And perhaps that was what had happened—I don’t know. So she cut open your father like he had cut her open. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

He continued to fix the horrified young man with his eyes. ‘Everyone assumed that Tupaarnaq had shot her mother and her sisters first. No one ever suspected your father of having raped them, because Tupaarnaq dressed your sisters before the police arrived. She didn’t want them to be found naked. That explained why their blood was on her hands and arms. She dressed them after your father had killed them. Do you follow?’

Ulrik’s grip tightened around Jakob’s neck so that his fingernails dug into Jakob’s skin. Something inside crunched.

‘The case was a no-brainer,’ Ulrik sneered. His mouth distorted and his nostrils flared. ‘They were dead, and that… that fucking cunt was covered in everyone’s blood… She was sitting on the floor, clutching an ulo, right next to my dad, who had been gutted… Fuck. Gutted. Like a seal.’

‘That killing represented years of hatred and pain,’ Jakob said hoarsely, still not taking his eyes off Ulrik for a second. ‘Many hours of being pressed against the bed. But the killing wasn’t prompted by her own violation. It was because your father had done to your two little sisters what he had done to her, and afterwards he had killed both them and your mother.’

The hand around Jakob’s neck loosened and slipped away.

‘Are you so blind, Ulrik, that you can’t see the truth? Even when its blood is dripping from your own hands?’

Ulrik slumped back.

‘Your father killed your mother and your sisters when he discovered that he wasn’t your real father. I think he went berserk and killed them in a rage when your mother revealed that his only son wasn’t his.’

‘Now you’re just guessing, you son of a bitch,’ Ulrik said, straightening up. ‘This is bullshit. Are you out of your mind?’ He pressed his lips into two thin lines, while he stared at his clenched fists and a growl rose from deep within his throat.

‘Look in the mirror,’ Jakob continued calmly. ‘Neither of your parents had so narrow a face or was as tall as you.’

‘Shut up!’ Saliva frothed around Ulrik’s mouth as he raised his arm, preparing to deliver a blow. ‘Fucking shut up!’

‘Do you remember,’ Jakob continued, still calm, ‘that they were dressed? Your sisters. When they were found. Do you remember that there were no bullet holes in the clothing, even though they had been shot with a rifle right through their chests? Why would Tupaarnaq have taken off their clothes, shot them and then dressed them again? Can you tell me that?’

Matthew’s mobile rang in his trouser pocket. He turned his attention to Paneeraq on the sofa. Her expression was distant and her cheeks streaked with tears. She was rocking back and forth, and staring at the white candles with Jesus and the Virgin Mary.

His mobile rang again.

‘No one ever questioned that,’ Jakob’s voice continued. ‘But for me that has always been the key to Tupaarnaq’s innocence. Your sisters were killed naked, but found dressed. That is a fact. Your father raped your sisters. Your mother found out and told him, out of rage and impotence, that he wasn’t your real father. Your father lost his temper and killed them all. She took his son, he took her daughters.’

Ulrik stepped back and stared frantically out into the yard below, while he wiped his palms hard on his shirt. ‘It’s too late!’

Matthew watched Ulrik before turning to look at the others in the room. ‘Paneeraq,’ he whispered towards the sofa. ‘Paneeraq?’

There was no reaction from the curled-up figure, who continued rocking back and forth.

‘Paneeraq?’ he said again. ‘Where’s Tupaarnaq?’

‘It was you who killed Aqqalu out on the ice cap, ilaa?’ Jakob went on. ‘They thought I was the mummy, didn’t they? Abelsen and Lyberth? You were supposed to get rid of my body, but something went wrong, ilaa?’

The mobile buzzed again in Matthew’s pocket. Refusing to be ignored.

Ulrik turned and glanced at Matthew. ‘Shit… Lyberth told me that the guy on the ice cap wasn’t an old mummy, and that I had to make sure that the body was never sent off for any tests.’ Ulrik pounded his forehead with his fists. ‘It can ruin everything and cause even greater division in Greenland, he said. Our careers are at stake… I was meant to get rid of it. The body and the pictures and everything.’ He looked up. ‘I didn’t know they were covering up a murder… I didn’t know.’

Jakob took a deep breath and exhaled. ‘I know. What about Aqqalu?’

‘Aqqalu,’ Ulrik groaned. His face was smeared with snot, and he kept wiping it with his hands. ‘Fuck… He… he wouldn’t let me take the body, even though I explained to him that it was essential for Greenland’s future. He didn’t want to… Bloody idiot… He banged his head on one of those crates with an iron edge… From the university. He…’

‘And then he died?’

Ulrik nodded again and wiped more snot from his face, while he sniffled loudly and small sobs erupted from his throat. ‘Abelsen…’ He gasped for air. ‘Abelsen promised to fix it. All I had to do was get out of there.’

‘And so Aqqalu was gutted to make it look like your father’s murder.’

Ulrik howled and rubbed his fists against his face. ‘I didn’t know… I didn’t know… that… he was going to do that… I… It’s so we can pin the blame on your sister, he said… My fucking sister. I didn’t even know that she had been let out.’

‘Did Abelsen do it?’ Jakob looked towards the window and craned his neck.

Ulrik nodded. ‘And the fisherman.’

Matthew had rolled onto his back and could feel his mobile buzz again.

‘A police car with some of your colleagues has just pulled up,’ Jakob announced in a voice louder than anything else he had said so far. He nodded in the direction of the window. ‘They’re here to interview Matthew and Tupaarnaq.’

‘Shit,’ Ulrik said. He pushed the curtain aside so that he could look down into the yard. ‘I… I…’ He quickly scanned the room, and then disappeared through the door.

Jakob got up from the armchair and made his way to Matthew. He bent down and cut the strips with a knife that had been lying in a fruit bowl on the coffee table.

‘Where’s Tupaarnaq?’ Matthew said quietly as he felt the tight plastic strips come away. At last his arms were free to move again.

‘Ulrik took her away while you were unconscious. I don’t know where she is, or why he came back without her.’

‘I think I know where she might be.’ Matthew stood up, rubbing his wrists. ‘They’re in your old house.’ He glanced towards the door. ‘We haven’t got time to explain all that to Ottesen now. Ulrik is in meltdown… He might very well kill her immediately.’

‘If you go back to the stairs you came up, you can continue up another floor, then run to the end of the gallery and take another staircase down to the yard.’

As Matthew raced down the stairs at the far end of the apartment block, his mobile rang again. This time he managed to answer it.

‘Hi, Matthew. What’s happening?’

‘I can’t explain it now, Leiff. I’m on my way to Abelsen’s house. Ulrik has gone mental, and I think he’s going to kill his sister and Abelsen.’ Matthew gasped for air as he sprinted down HJ Rinkip Aqqutaa. ‘Jakob… the police officer from ’73… he’s alive… and he claims that Ulrik’s father isn’t his real father, and that it was Tupaarnaq’s own father who killed the family back in Tasiilaq… And now… Ulrik has lost his mind.’

‘Where are you?’

‘I’m approaching Gertrud Rasks Vej… I’m heading for Abelsen’s house.’

‘Okay—are you able to listen while you run?’

‘Yes…’

‘The police went to Lyberth’s home to go through his things in connection with his murder.’ Leiff paused. ‘By the way, I believe that Ulrik is currently suspended. He has been under a lot of stress. Anyway, that wasn’t what I wanted to tell you. No, they found some old papers at Lyberth’s place. Nothing relating to your case, but still relevant. Abelsen didn’t move to Greenland from Denmark, as everyone thought. His father was a Danish doctor who worked here in the 1950s, but his mother was an underage Inuit girl from Tasiilaq, whom the doctor raped. Well, that particular fact wasn’t mentioned in the papers at Lyberth’s, but I took the liberty of ringing the world and his wife until I hit the jackpot. I managed to get a couple of names to follow up, you see. The girl died a long time ago, but she still has family in Tasiilaq who can remember that far back. Are you still there?’

‘Yes,’ Matthew wheezed. ‘I’m just passing the lake.’

‘Good. Abelsen lived with his young mother until he was ten years old, when he was sent to boarding school in Denmark—Daddy paid for it. As far as I could work out, that was the price for Abelsen Jr remaining a secret. You see, Daddy already had a wife and family in Denmark. At the age of twenty-four, Abelsen returned to Greenland, but this time to Nuuk, where he soon befriended another blatantly ambitious young man, Lyberth. Abelsen was a cold and calculating lawyer, Lyberth a politically active vicar who would sell his own mother to get to the top. The rest is history, as far as their partnership is concerned. But listen to this. Ulrik. You won’t believe this, but it adds up with what you’ve just told me. Abelsen pulled the same stunt as his father and got a woman pregnant in Tasiilaq. Only this time it was a woman who already had a daughter.’

‘And that daughter… was Tupaarnaq?’ Matthew panted.

‘Precisely, and the child that Abelsen had with Tupaarnaq’s mother is Ulrik. That’s why Lyberth took the boy in. One favour deserves another, as they say. Abelsen had no hint of family loyalty, but he cared enough to get Lyberth to take Ulrik in when his family was wiped out by Tupaarnaq’s father, and Tupaarnaq was jailed for the murders.’

‘Christ almighty…’ Matthew wheezed. ‘He’s going to kill them… both of them.’

65

The windows in Jakob’s old home were dark, but the house itself stood out more clearly now than in the dense, moist fog that had surrounded it the last time Matthew was there. There was only one row of houses further along, and then the rocks sloped steeply down to the North Atlantic, which lay calmer than it had done for several days.

The rough planks met Matthew’s hand as he reached the end of the path between the rocks. He wiped his face on his sleeve and stepped sideways to look through the living room window. Abelsen was slumped in an old armchair in the middle of the room. His body was limp, but his eyes were open.

Matthew ducked immediately and pressed his back against the wall. With his eyes closed, he bumped the back of his head soundlessly against the wood. He turned around and pushed himself slowly up, in order to peer over the window ledge. He scanned the living room, but the only person he could see was Abelsen. The man’s thin forearms were tied to the broad armrests with black strips.

Matthew heard a crash behind him. He spun around and looked across at the nearest houses, but there was nothing to see. Maybe a boat or a trailer had been knocked over. He turned his attention back to the window. An icy shiver crawled down his spine immediately.

Abelsen was staring right at him.

Matthew looked away, then took three steps to the front door, which he pushed open in a slow, gliding movement. The hall was small, and he quickly reached the living room, where the pale old man in the chair nodded for him to come over.

‘Get a knife from the kitchen and free me,’ he whispered between thin lips.

Matthew looked around the room. ‘Where is your Faroese?’

‘Forget about him,’ Abelsen mumbled.

‘Is Ulrik here?’

‘I don’t know,’ Abelsen snarled irritably and grimaced. ‘Why is that any of your business?’

‘I think he’s going to kill his sister, and that is my business.’

‘Cut me free, then we can talk about it… Not a second before.’ Abelsen moved his back from side to side and flexed his neck in a series of small cracks. ‘Did you bring the notebook?’

‘The notebook?’ Matthew shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t bring the bloody notebook, but if you call off your Faroese and Ulrik, maybe we can talk about it.’

‘Idiot,’ Abelsen said, and wrinkled his nose. ‘Reporters—you’re vermin, the lot of you.’ He heaved a deep sigh. ‘I want that notebook… and that’s final.’

‘And I want Tupaarnaq.’

‘Christ, don’t tell me you’ve fallen for some Greenlandic slag? That bitch will bite off your dick, given half a chance.’

‘Yes, you’d know all about Greenlanders, wouldn’t you? With a mother and a son from Tasiilaq… The one you shagged wasn’t Danish either, and she ended up getting killed because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants.’

‘You think you’re so clever, boy.’ Abelsen jerked both arms, leaving red welts in the skin from the sharp strips. ‘Now free me, goddammit.’

‘Not without Tupaarnaq.’

‘It’s a pack of lies, all of it. I never lived in Tasiilaq, and as far as Ulrik is concerned, he’s not my son. I don’t know where you got that story from, but it’s all lies. I never fathered a son, and certainly not a crybaby like Ulrik. My guess is he’s the product of one of Lyberth’s countless drunken one-night stands. They’re like two peas in a pod, the pair of them.’

‘I never said anything about Ulrik being your son.’

Abelsen’s arms on the armrests relaxed for a moment, before tensing again when he clenched his fists. ‘Now free me,’ he commanded from deep down his throat.

‘So you can kill me, like you killed Lyberth?’

Abelsen threw his head forward and grabbed the strips with his teeth. He shook his head and bit into the plastic. Blood started trickling from his mouth, down his wrist and onto the wood.

‘Where are they?’ Matthew shouted, kicking the armchair.

Abelsen looked up for a moment. His eyes were crazed. His chin and his thin lips were smeared with the blood that flowed from his teeth and gums. ‘She’s dead,’ he sneered. ‘Dead, like you, you bastard.’ Then he resumed his attack on the plastic strip.

Somewhere above them they heard a thud.

Matthew kicked the armchair again. ‘We found Najak in the shipping container in Færingehavn, you know,’ he said, almost absent-mindedly, and then he looked back at Abelsen. ‘You’re finished, arsehole.’

‘How big an idiot are you? That shipping container is empty now.’

Matthew shook his head. ‘And I have the film reels. I told you that in my email, didn’t I? And I’m sure the police will find plenty of DNA evidence out there.’

A new and much clearer sound from above drew Matthew’s attention back towards the ceiling. ‘Is that Ulrik?’ he shouted. ‘Are you up there, Ulrik, you piece of shit?’

66

Matthew pulled the harpoon off the wall; as far as he remembered from the notebook, it had been displayed there as an ornament since before Jakob lived there. He weighed it in his hand, sizing up the thin wooden spear that ended in a heart-shaped arrowhead. Once, many years ago, the wood had been polished as smooth as glass. The arrowhead felt cool against his skin. Then he snatched the ulo from the bookcase and ran towards the stairs.

Abelsen sensed nothing. His teeth chewed away at the hard plastic, while he panted and growled furiously.

The stairs leading up to the first floor were covered by a grey floral carpet, which was so faded that the flowers looked like brown patches. The steps disappeared under his feet two at a time, and in a few seconds he had reached the top and pushed open the first door.

The room lay in twilight, and he couldn’t see very well, but he could hear that someone was in there. He took a firm hold of the harpoon and brandished it, ready to strike.

At the far end of the room was a solid wooden bed, and in the middle of a chaos of quilts and blankets Tupaarnaq lay on her back, her arms tied tightly to the bedposts. She was naked and tried to scream when she saw Matthew, but a piece of fabric had been stuffed into her mouth.

Ulrik was squatting on his haunches between her legs. His torso was lowered over her. He muttered incomprehensible words and saliva dripped from his chin. In his clenched right hand, which rested on the quilts on the mattress, he was clutching a knife, which flashed in the light from the passage. His trousers were pulled halfway down his thighs, and his dick stuck stiffly out into the air, right above the dark leaves between Tupaarnaq’s hips.

‘This slag needs to be punished,’ he hissed, turning slowly to look at Matthew.

His hair was plastered to his face, and he was sweating profusely. His eyes shone as if he were in the grip of a violent fever. ‘She killed my father… She killed all of them… Piss off, you Danish bastard.’

‘Get away from her,’ Matthew yelled. Everything inside him was shaking, and he raised the harpoon. ‘Get away from her, you psycho! You’re sick in the head!’

‘She needs to be fucked,’ Ulrik shouted back, his shoulders heaving and sinking rapidly.

Tupaarnaq spiralled her lower body violently and Ulrik was temporarily thrown off-balance.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, you cunt?’ he screamed, turning back to her. He raised the knife and jammed it into the tattooed leaves on her left side.

She cried out behind the gag. Her body arched from the bed like a bow and twisted in agony from the blade, which was now buried deep under the roots of the plants. Her scream ebbed away, but rose again when Ulrik pulled out the knife and raised his arm to strike again.

Matthew roared at the top of his lungs.

The sound hung still in the air.

Ulrik’s upper body jerked. His arm with the knife flopped onto the bed. His other hand travelled across his skin, and his fingers felt the bloody harpoon tip sticking out of the right side of his chest. For a moment he gritted his teeth and pressed his eyes shut, then he got up from the bed. The harpoon’s wooden handle seesawed behind his back.

‘I’m going to kill you,’ he growled, and transferred the knife to his left hand.

Matthew could see Tupaarnaq turn and bend a leg, ready to kick. He clutched the ulo in his hand. The kick hit Ulrik’s lower back and sent him flying. He let out a roar and nearly keeled over, but stayed on his feet. He raised his knife and lunged at Matthew, who managed to avoid the stumbling man and at the same time swung the ulo with all his strength in front of Ulrik. The soft, diagonal arc of the blade was stopped halfway by Ulrik’s neck.

Ulrik fell to his knees, clutching his throat. The blood poured out between his fingers and his lips. Somewhere in his throat his breathing started to bubble. His gaze travelled in short leaps up to Matthew’s face. His eyes were crazed. The noises coming from his throat grew sharper. Then they turned into hoarse gurgling.

There were voices coming from downstairs. Abelsen howled like an animal.

Matthew pushed Ulrik over with his foot. He dropped the ulo and heard it clatter onto the floor. Ulrik’s arms and chest were covered in blood. His eyes were closed.

‘Are you badly hurt?’ Matthew whispered as he knelt down at the side of the bed to remove the gag from Tupaarnaq’s mouth.

‘Cut me free,’ she croaked. She was sweating.

He reached for the ulo and rose to cut the strips that were keeping her restrained.

She wrapped the leaves of her arms around herself so they merged with the dark foliage of her body. ‘Cover me up.’

Her voice was drowned out by the sound of boots stomping up the stairs. Matthew grabbed a blanket and put it around her shoulders.

The noise of the boots stopped and became movement in the air. ‘Hello?’ a voice called out from the stairs.

‘I’m not going back to prison,’ Tupaarnaq whispered, clutching Matthew’s jumper.

He looked at the blood on the bed, and then into her eyes. ‘Just hang in there.’

The heart-shaped freckle on her nose glowed, while her eyelids closed.