The Shadow Killer

31

Brynhildur had kept her promise not to tell anyone where Felix was hiding, not even his father. She had meant to tell Rudolf before he heard the news from the police, but she didn’t get a chance. Only after Flóvent’s visit had she come clean. She admitted that she was sheltering Felix at the old surgery and explained why his son wouldn’t go to the authorities. Rudolf was absolutely livid that she had failed to tell him straight away and insisted that Felix should turn himself in.

The whole episode had proved a great strain on the doctor, who had a weak heart, and being forcibly dragged in for questioning by the police had been the final straw. That night he’d developed pains in his chest and had been rushed to hospital. When Flóvent followed Brynhildur earlier she had been on her way to tell Felix that things couldn’t go on like this.

‘You expect me to believe that?’ said Flóvent.

‘Yes, I’m telling you the truth.’

‘What about Felix? Has it not occurred to you that Felix might have fabricated the whole story to con you into helping him? That it’s very gullible of you to swallow this stuff about him being the victim?’

‘Of course it has. And I accused him of exactly that. Said I found his story preposterous. I threatened to go to the police if he didn’t tell me what was really going on. I’ve no interest in taking the rap... as an accomplice or accessory to the crime or whatever you call it, for him or anyone else.’

Flóvent was now able to stand without leaning against the table for support. He still felt a little dizzy, though, so he dropped into the chair by the desk. Brynhildur remained where she was, her back ramrod straight, not giving an inch, as if she would stand by her word whatever the consequences.

‘Where’s Felix now?’ Flóvent asked.

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘He was gone by the time I came back. I’ve no idea where to.’

Flóvent couldn’t suppress a smile. ‘It’s time to stop protecting him,’ he said.

‘I... I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt,’ she countered. ‘When he said his life was in danger. I think you would have done the same in the circumstances. A man had been shot dead in his flat and that man should have been him.’

‘Did you also believe him when he told you about the cyanide pill we found in his suitcase?’

‘Cyanide pill?’

‘So Rudolf didn’t tell you either?’

‘What cyanide pill?’

‘I informed Rudolf that we’d found a capsule in Felix’s suitcase and sent it for analysis. According to military intelligence, it’s a suicide pill, manufactured in Germany. Are you telling me that you weren’t aware of its existence? That neither of them let you into their confidence?’

Brynhildur didn’t reply.

‘What was it for?’ asked Flóvent. ‘Why was he carrying it around with him? When did he intend to take it?’

‘I don’t know anything about a pill,’ said Brynhildur after a pause. ‘Felix hasn’t told me the whole story, I do realise that. I told you — he doesn’t want to drag me into it.’

‘I wonder what else Felix has failed to tell you. What else Rudolf has decided you don’t need to know. What else you aren’t sharing with me. Why don’t you stop lying and tell me the simple truth? Where is Felix? And don’t claim you don’t know. He comes running to you as soon as anything goes wrong. You’re like... like a mother to him. Where are you hiding him now? Tell me!’

‘I don’t know where Felix is,’ said Brynhildur. ‘And I don’t know anything about a pill.’

‘German spies carry pills like that. Was Felix sending information to Germany?’

Brynhildur didn’t answer.

‘Is he just waiting to leave the country? Is that why he’s not turning himself in? Are the Germans coming to pick him up?’

‘I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Leave the country? Where would he go?’

‘To Germany?’

Brynhildur stared at Flóvent without speaking, standing quite still, her expression unreadable. He felt his strength gradually returning and pulled the school anniversary pamphlet from his pocket.

‘What’s that?’ she asked as he handed it to her.

‘Perhaps you can tell me.’

Brynhildur went over to the window and held up the picture to the light from the street. There was a long pause before she turned to look at Flóvent. ‘Where did you get this?’

‘It was among Eyvindur’s things,’ Flóvent replied. ‘Ebeneser said the photo was taken at the school. I gather he and Rudolf had a row recently about some boys. Who were these boys they were arguing about? And why are you in that picture with Felix and Eyvindur?’

‘Have you talked to Ebeneser?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did he say?’

‘Nothing. Rudolf won’t discuss it either. Eyvindur’s uncle tells me that he and Felix were boyhood friends. Yet they came from very different homes. Eyvindur’s father was... he was a vicious thug and persistent offender. His mother was an alcoholic. I wouldn’t have thought Felix would be allowed to associate with a boy from that sort of background. But all I got out of my visit to Rudolf was something about heritage. That the ancestral heritage was supposed to be here in Iceland. Do you have any idea what he meant? What he could have been referring to?’

Brynhildur was staring at the photograph.

‘Why were they quarrelling about the boys?’ asked Flóvent, returning to the attack. ‘Who were these boys?’

She raised her eyes, then handed the pamphlet back to him. Flóvent couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

‘Where did you hear that?’ she asked finally. ‘Who told you they’d quarrelled?’

‘That’s beside the point,’ said Flóvent. ‘Do you know what they were quarrelling about?’

‘You’ll have to ask them,’ said Brynhildur. ‘The picture was taken in the school grounds on the occasion of some anniversary or other. Eyvindur and Felix were at school together — as you’ve already said. But that’s all I know. It was a long time ago. One forgets so quickly.’

‘There are two other boys with them.’

‘Yes, I don’t remember their names.’

‘And the man with you and Ebeneser?’

‘I don’t recognise him. He must have been one of the teachers, I suppose.’

‘All right, let’s leave that for now. Clearly there’s something here that none of you are willing to discuss. You all turn evasive, feign ignorance.’

‘Yes, well, you can think what you like.’

‘Is that why Eyvindur’s forehead was marked with a swastika? Is it something to do with this picture?’

‘Swastika? What swastika?’

‘You didn’t know? Felix — or the unknown killer, if he’s to be believed — dipped a finger in Eyvindur’s blood and drew a swastika on his forehead. Can you imagine why? Or what it’s supposed to mean?’

Brynhildur was visibly shocked. ‘That’s horrible. I didn’t know.’

‘Didn’t Felix tell you? I wouldn’t have thought he’d forget a detail like that.’

‘Perhaps he didn’t notice,’ said Brynhildur. ‘Perhaps he couldn’t bring himself to take a closer look at the body. I don’t know. He didn’t say a word about it.’

‘Why would someone draw a swastika on Eyvindur’s forehead? What message were they trying to send?’

‘I simply don’t believe that Felix did it,’ said Brynhildur staunchly.

‘The swastika must be linked to Nazism, surely?’

‘I don’t know... It would appear so.’

‘Tell me about Hans Lunden.’

‘Hans?’

‘Yes, Dr Hans Lunden. How do you know each other? What business did you both have with Werner Gerlach at the consulate shortly before the war?’

‘Business? I went there once — I was invited to dinner. But I wasn’t a regular guest. Hans Lunden is Rudolf’s brother. It was, well, before the war and... Where did you get this information, if I might ask?’

‘What brought Hans Lunden to Iceland? What business did you both have at the consulate?’

‘He came to see his brother as far as I’m aware. Rudolf would know more about that than I would. You should ask him. The dinner was given in Hans’s honour. He’s a well-known physician in Germany. Or scientist, rather. I was invited to accompany them.’

‘Tell me about you and Rudolf.’

‘What is there to tell?’

‘What’s the nature of your relationship?’

‘We... we get on well. If you’re implying that our relationship goes beyond that of a housekeeper and employer, you’re mistaken.’

‘In other words, you simply work for him?’

‘Yes.’

‘Not for anyone else?’

‘No. Honestly, what is this all about? I don’t appreciate the tenor of these questions. I don’t appreciate it at all.’

‘What did you mean when you said that Felix hated his father?’ asked Flóvent, changing tack. He got the impression that he wasn’t going to get much more out of her tonight. He would have to take Brynhildur into custody for further questioning.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Earlier, when I’d just recovered my senses, you said he hated his father. I presume you meant Felix?’

‘Their relationship has been... strained... for a long time,’ said Brynhildur. ‘I think strained is the right word.’

‘Why is that?’

‘You’ll have to ask them,’ said Brynhildur evasively.

‘You have no idea where Felix could have gone?’

‘No.’

Flóvent stood up, still a little unsteady on his feet.

‘You’ll have to come with me.’ he said. ‘You must have realised that.’

Brynhildur studied him for a while, then asked: ‘Is that really necessary?’

‘There’s every indication that Felix has committed murder. You helped him to hide from the police. You chose to cover up for him. I’m afraid there’s no alternative.’

‘You don’t believe his story.’

‘No. I have no reason to believe a man who fails to come forward immediately when a man is killed in his home.’

Later that evening Flóvent unearthed the documents.

He had left Brynhildur in custody, cleaned himself up as best he could, then decided he was sufficiently recovered to take another look around Rudolf’s surgery before heading home. Brynhildur had offered no resistance and had accompanied him without a word to the police station on Pósthússtræti, from where she was escorted to the prison on Skólavördustígur. The only thing she asked was whether she would be locked up for long. He was unable to answer that.

With the aid of a torch he had borrowed from the police station, Flóvent walked slowly through the surgery, opening drawers and cupboards. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for. Clues to where Felix might be hiding, perhaps.

Since he was intending to conduct a more thorough search of the premises in the morning, he suddenly decided, halfway inside the wardrobe from which Felix had leapt out earlier, that he’d had enough for now. The wardrobe was empty. As he was backing out, he accidentally bashed the torch against the door. As it hit the floor he heard a hollow thud. Flóvent tapped the wooden base. There was no mistaking it. He got down on all fours and ran his fingers along the floor of the wardrobe until he felt a slightly raised edge. With the help of the pocket knife he always carried, he managed to prise up one of the boards. Underneath was a small bundle of papers and some envelopes that turned out to contain specimen jars. Some of the papers showed tables of what appeared to be height and weight measurements, others featured lists of questions. He leafed through them quickly. At first glance, some of the questions seemed to relate to personal matters such as family circumstances, sleeping habits and diet, while others were intended to assess cognitive development and intelligence.

Flóvent stared down at the hiding place in the base of the wardrobe, the maid’s words — about Ebeneser and Rudolf quarrelling over some boys — echoing in his mind.