The Day is Dark (46 page)

Friðrikka swung her rock hammer at the back of Arnar’s neck. She didn’t feel anything. Neither satisfaction nor fear. She felt nothing at the first blow. And she felt nothing at the second blow. Then she rolled Arnar over at her feet and discovered her mistake. Finally her emotions overwhelmed her. She fell to her knees and tried to shake her friend awake. She described in a low voice how it became clear to her that Oddný Hildur was dead and the tears that streamed from the glazed, staring eyes of her friend were merely melted snowflakes. Despair seized her. She decided to hide the body underneath her apartment building. That would give her a chance to assess the situation and decide what to do next. She shovelled away the snow, pushed the body beneath the building and pushed the snow back over it. The wind and snowfall would cover her tracks.

Circumstances allowed her to avoid having to cover up what she’d done, as everyone at the camp was convinced that Oddný Hildur had been lost in the storm. Search parties were sent out. Friðrikka’s strange behaviour was ascribed to her concern for her lost friend. No one suspected that she had anything to do with it. The blood on the side of the building where the women’s apartment was located had come from when she had leaned against the building as she struggled to dig away the snow, but even that evidence was not seriously examined. Nor did anyone comment on how she offered to search the camp area. She said that she had experienced her first major shock when she saw that the body was gone. Then she’d started wondering whether she had maybe dreamt the whole thing; Oddný Hildur had actually gone missing and hadn’t died of head injuries inflicted in a blind rage. She understood none of it and was constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She decided to leave her job and again no one made any comments. Everyone just thought that she was feeling unwell after losing her best friend.

In fact, Friðrikka still seemed to be in two minds as to what had actually happened. She asked whether it were possible that the man who now claimed to have moved the body might even have killed Oddný Hildur. Her connection with reality was tenuous at best. She had even slunk out into the night once, to check one more time beneath the house to see if Oddný Hildur was perhaps still there. Doubt about what precisely had happened had gnawed at her ever since, and still did. She had reactivated the floodlight system when she was terrified that the person who had removed the body might return and attack her.

When the interrogation was finished and Thóra was hoping to rejoin the others, Friðrikka grabbed her arm frantically and asked what had become of her cat. The neighbours who had been looking after it hadn’t been happy about having to carry on doing so and probably wouldn’t take it. When Thóra reassured her that there was no shortage of good homes for a beautiful cat, Friðrikka gave her an imploring stare. Before Thóra sat a woman who had effectively banished herself from civilized society, and she doubted Friðrikka would now ever obtain what she desired so much, the friendship and love of another individual. Thóra would not return home with a polar bear cub, but a cat would do just as well. ‘I’ll take your cat. My daughter will take good care of her.’

Epilogue

30 May 2008

Thóra hung up the phone and stared at the divorce papers that were waiting to be signed. A young couple had discovered too late that they didn’t get on well enough, and like so many others in their shoes they now had nothing in common but debts. And as strange as it seemed, people were much more nitpicking about dividing their debts than their assets. But when all was said and done, couples applied for divorce because they couldn’t imagine being in each other’s presence any longer, so in the end, they came to an agreement. In the end, freedom from one’s spouse was always a stronger impulse than anything else.

The trip to Greenland hadn’t yielded the legal firm any other projects from the bank. Nevertheless an agreement had been reached with the mining company; Berg Technology was allowed to continue the project and the insurance money was left untouched. Thóra hoped that her report had played some part in the matter, but it was just as likely that things had been resolved at a political level, or that the temporary closure of the area for archaeological research at the cave had been the decisive factor. In any case, the mining company, contractors and the bank had reached agreements while individual employees were left with no idea what was going on, except that they had lost their co-workers under tragic circumstances. It was a great loss for such a small workplace: three dead and two incapacitated, though one of them had of course already left the company. Fortunately there was no plan to start work again until the summer, so the employees were given time and space to recover in the company of family and friends. Hopefully the deepest wounds would be healed by the time work began again.

Thóra had experienced some minor inconveniences herself. The health authorities in Greenland had confiscated her large green suitcase and had it destroyed, along with everything in it, due to risk of infection. Of course this risk was small, but apparently they didn’t want to take any chances. Her companions had had the same treatment. However, they, unlike her, had packed their bags while sober, which meant they lost mainly underwear, fleece jackets and the like. Now Thóra rued her many years of choosing classic work clothing that was likely to survive the whims of fashion. Like the others, the bank had paid her compensation, but Thóra hadn’t been able to inform them that the contents of her luggage had been worth much more than that of her colleagues and had also had much more emotional value. Now that it was clear the bank would not be the source of further work, she regretted this deeply.

Friðrikka had been on the phone. Her voice sounded completely different to before and Thóra suspected that the woman was on drugs. She wanted to ask Thóra to help her ensure that she would be moved to Iceland when she was sentenced, so that she could serve her time in her home country. Friðrikka said that otherwise she would die; she couldn’t stay in Greenland. She also asked about the cat, which Thóra assured her was being spoiled rotten. This at least seemed to make Friðrikka feel a bit better. However, Thóra said she needed to think over Friðrikka’s request to defend her, though she would certainly lend her a helping hand. They had little else to talk about. Naturally, Friðrikka asked about Arnar’s fate and Thóra was able to inform her that the engineer had officially confessed to everything that he had told her on the phone. A verdict was hanging over his head but it was impossible to say whether it would be suspended. Although Thóra did not mention it to Friðrikka, she had kept her eye on the obituaries recently and none had yet appeared suggesting that Arnar had killed himself. It could well be that he intended to wait until a verdict came from both courts in order to ensure that Naruana came out of it as well as he could, but the other possibility was that he had changed his mind or lost his courage. Thóra hoped that this was the case, but the determination in his voice when he’d told her of his plans had been so strong that in the end she doubted it.

Thóra knew less about the others; she hadn’t heard from Alvar, Eyjólfur or Finnbogi since they’d parted ways at the airport in Reykjavík. Actually, she had gone to see the doctor about her final report, but that was all. When asked, she told Friðrikka that yes, Bella was fine, still working in reception at the legal firm, on top form and still intimidating clients and employees alike as only she could.

Thóra had only once given in to temptation and phoned Oqqapia. She didn’t want to be connected to the woman any more than to everything else that had happened; all the signs indicated that the poor woman’s life would continue to be defined by sorrow, drinking and boredom. Thóra had enough disappointments in her own country without having to hunt them down across the borders. However, the telephone call had been surprisingly pleasant. Oqqapia had stuck to her word and got her life in order. She said it was difficult, but not counting a couple of small slip-ups she’d kept herself sober since the case had come to a head. She said that Naruana’s difficulties had strengthened her, which had surprised her, but someone had to be ready to help him and his parents were in no position to do so. Like her, he had also put the cork in the bottle in the hope that this sign of progress would be taken into account when he was sentenced. Now they awaited the results together. The department of social services had sent alcohol counsellors to the village. It turned out that Naruana was also a teacher at the primary school, which had proved to be of priceless assistance to the couple in their struggle. Oqqapia stated with pride that Naruana had started hunting again, albeit only on a boat with others, but it was still a great improvement. At the end of their conversation Oqqapia had remembered to tell Thóra that Igimaq had now received his daughter’s bones and that he was intending to lay them to rest once and for all. Examination of the remains had not revealed the cause of her death, but everything suggested that she had died of
that disease everyone’s talking about
, as Oqqapia put it.

Before the phone call ended Thóra had asked the woman carefully whether Naruana had been able to give an explanation for why he’d taken the young girl with him to the camp when he went to remove the bodies. Oqqapia answered in the same nonchalant tone that she had used to describe the Spanish Flu. Apparently, the girl’s parents had loaned Naruana their sled on the condition that he take her with him. Thóra didn’t need to ask what sort of parents would let their child travel around on a snowmobile with a drunk. The answer was obvious: parents who were even drunker than the man who took their child. But some good had come out of it. The girl had been taken away for observation since she had been present at a bloodbath and it was possible that she was infected, and at the hospital in Nuuk it was decided that something could be done to repair her damaged face. Moreover, the fact that the girl had been humming provided hope that with the correct training and treatment, she would be able to regain her voice and the ability to speak. Thus her parents had been convinced to move to Nuuk in order to be able to continue looking after the child, and they had given the snowmobile to Oqqapia and Naruana in gratitude for their help in getting medical assistance for their daughter. Thóra did not presume to understand this gesture of appreciation, and settled for being pleased that not everyone was cast in the same mould. What mattered most was that all these people appeared to be slowly heading towards a better life. They could use it.

There was a knock at the door and in walked a prospective ex-husband in a divorce case. ‘Hi, am I late?’

‘No, you’re right on time.’ Thóra smiled. ‘Have a seat. Everything’s ready for you. Soon you’ll be all by yourself.’

Igimaq looked out over the landscape. But when he turned his back on the cave, it spoiled the effect; what was the use of having beauty before his eyes when ugliness waited behind him? He held the bones of his daughter. He had wrapped them in an excellent sealskin that he himself had tanned many years ago and that he considered one of the most beautiful he had ever made. No one appreciated such things any longer and he had never let it out of his hands, but had saved it for a better time. Now that time had come. The skin would protect the bones from unnecessarily harsh conditions inside the cave until the end, when the land would melt and sink into the sea to the animals who would then have complete control. He and the dog would be long gone by then but that did not matter, at least not to anyone but the two of them.

The dog howled, wanting to get away from this cursed place. Igimaq had witnessed his daughter suffering and weeping, begging him to allow her to seek help at a settlement. But there had been no help to be had. When she’d entered the area, to her father’s displeasure, they had clashed, and he’d still been furious at her when the marks began to appear and her skin began turning blue. She had already grown weak, and Igimaq had consulted with Sikki, who was absolutely certain about what should be done – it would not have been so black and white now, when the prospect of work seemed to cancel out all the ancient customs. Igimaq had not refused. He had dragged his desperately ill daughter back out to the area and forced Naruana to assist him, since in time his son would inherit the obligation to his ancestors. Naruana had seemed to understand this at the time, but his swift decline after Usinna’s fate had been sealed suggested that the decision had been ill-considered – with terrible consequences. Naruana had already been having problems with alcohol, and the terrible death of his sister had finally pushed him over the edge towards self-destruction. His mother had followed close on his heels, for the same reason. Igimaq almost understood them. Although Usinna’s struggle with death had not been long, time passed slowly when you were forced to watch someone so close to your heart suffer so cruelly, turning blue in the face until blood poured from her mouth, eyes and nose. Her last breath formed a red bubble between her lips which did not burst until the wind blew a strand of black hair over her mouth. If he hadn’t been so angry at her he might have comforted her or allowed Naruana to hold her hand, which was the last thing she had begged for. By the time he disposed of her body his anger had gone. He had planned to remove the necklace with her name on it, but saw that it was gone. It had been around her neck when he’d dragged her onto the sled with Naruana’s help; it was a piece he had made for her when she was a little girl, and he knew very well that the fastenings were secure and that the chain hadn’t broken. He also knew that Usinna had realized they were planning to leave her alone out in the wilderness, and he knew his daughter well enough to know what she had done with it. She had swallowed it so that her body might be identified later, if it were ever found. It was inconceivable that he would cut open his dead daughter’s belly to retrieve the necklace – as inconceivable as allowing her to return home when she looked at him with bloody eyes and pleaded with him for the last time. The unquiet souls of the dead would never have allowed it. Naruana and Igimaq had only escaped themselves because of the strength of the souls’ malicious excitement about the new young member for their tribe. In their greed, they forgot about father and son.