imagine but, perhaps, queerer than we can imagine.” I can see his point
now.’
Elin laughed, and I said, ‘What the hel ‘s so funny? Slade has already
taken a crack at us, and may do again if Taggart hasn’t pulled him off.
Kennikin is sweating blood trying to get at me – and now the Americans
have put in their oar. Any minute from now I’m expecting the West
Germans to pitch up, or maybe the Chilean Secret Service. I wouldn’t be
surprised at anything. But there’s one thing that real y worries me.’
‘What?’
I said, ‘Suppose I give this gadget to Case tomorrow night. Kennikin
won’t know that, wil he? I can’t see Jack Case writing him a letter ?
“Dear Vaslav, Stewart doesn’t have the footbal any more; I’ve got it –
come and chase /me.”/ I’l be just as much up the creek as before.
Farther, in fact, because if Kennikin catches me and I /haven’t/ got the
damned thing then he’l be even madder than he is now, if that’s possible.’
I wasn’t so sure I was going to give the gadget to Case, after al . If I
was going to be up the creek, I’d better retain the paddle.
Chapter II
Laugarvatn is a district educational centre which takes in children from
a wide rural area. The country is so big relative to the population, and
the population so scattered, that the educational system is rather
peculiar. Most of the rural schools are boarding schools and in some of
them the pupils spend a fortnight at school and a fortnight at home,
turn and turn about, during the winter teaching terms. The children from
farther away spend al winter at school. In the summer the schools are
turned into hotels for four months.
Because Laugarvatn is conveniently close to Thingvel ir, Geysir,
Gullfoss and other tourist attractions its two large schools come in
very useful as summer hotels, and Laugarvatn had become a pony-trekking
centre very popular with visitors. Personal y, I’ve never cared much for
horses, not even the multi-coloured Icelandic variety which is
better-looking than most. I think the horse is a stupid animal -any
animal which al ows another to ride it must be stupid and I prefer to be
bounced by a Land-Rover rather than by a stubborn pony who would rather
go home.
Gunnar Arnarsson was a schoolteacher in the winter and in summer ran a
pony-trekking operation. Very versatile people, these Icelanders. He was
away when we arrived, but his wife, Sigurlin Asgeirsdottir, made us
welcome with much clucking at the sight of Elin’s arm in an improvised
sling.
One of the problems in Iceland is sorting out the single from the
married people, because the woman does not change her name when she gets
married. In fact, the whole problem of names is a trap into which
foreigners usual y fall with a loud thump. The surname just tel s
everyone who your father was; Sigurlin was the daughter of Asgeir, just
as Gunnar was the son of Arnar. If Gunnar had a son and decided to name
the boy after his grandfather he’d be cal ed Arnar Gunnarsson. All very
difficult and the reason why the Icelandic telephone directory is listed
alphabetical y under given names. Elin Ragnarsdottir was listed under ‘£’.
Gunnar appeared to have done wel for himself because Sigurlin was one
of those tal , leggy, svelte, Scandinavian types who go over big when
they get to Hollywood, and what the hell has acting got to do with it,
anyway? The widespread belief that the Nordic nations are populated
exclusively on the distaff side by these tow-headed goddesses is,
however, a regrettable il usion.
From the way she welcomed us Sigurlin knew about me, but not al , I
hoped. At any rate she knew a lot – enough to hear the distant chime of
wedding bel s. It’s funny, but as soon as a girl gets married she wants
to get al her old girlfriends caught in the same trap. Because of
Kennikin there weren’t going to be any immediate wedding bel s – the
tolling of a single funeral note was more likely – but, disregarding
Kennikin, I wasn’t going to be pressured by any busty blonde with a
match-making glint in her eye.
I put the Land-Rover into Gunnar’s empty garage with some relief. Now it
was safely off the road and under cover I felt much better. I saw that
the col ection of smal arms was decently concealed and then went into
the house to find Sigurlin just coining downstairs. She gave me a
peculiar look and said abruptly, ‘What did Elin do to her shoulder?’
I said cautiously, ‘Didn’t she tel you?’
‘She said she was climbing and fel against a sharp rock.’
I made an indeterminate noise expressive of agreement, but I could see
that Sigurlin was suspicious. A gunshot wound tends to look like nothing
else but, even to someone who has never seen one before. I said hastily,
‘It’s very good of you to offer us a bed for the night.’
‘It’s nothing,’ she said. ‘Would you like some coffee?’
‘Thank you, I would.’ I followed her into the kitchen. ‘Have you know
Elin long?’
‘Since we were children.’ Sigurlin dumped a handful of beans into a
coffee grinder. ‘And you?’
‘Three years.’
She fil ed an electric kettle and plugged it in, then swung around to
face me. ‘Elin looks very tired.’
‘We pushed it a bit in the /Obyggdir.’1/ That can’t have sounded
convincing because Sigurlin said, ‘I wouldn’t want her to come to any
harm. That wound . . .’
‘Wel ?’
‘She didn’t fall against a rock, did she?’
There was a brain behind those beautiful eyes. ‘No,’ I said. ‘She didn’t.’
‘I thought not,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen wounds like that. Before I married
I was a nurse at Keflavik. An American sailor was brought into hospital
once – he’d been cleaning his gun and shot himself accidental y. Whose
gun was Elin cleaning?’
I sat down at the kitchen table. ‘There’s a certain amount ‘ of
trouble,’ I said careful y. ‘And it’s best you’re not involved, so I’m
not going to tel you anything about it for your own good. I tried to
keep Elin out of it from the beginning, but she’s headstrong.’
Sigurlin nodded. ‘Her family always was stubborn.’
I said, ‘I’m going to Geysir tomorrow evening and I’d like Elin to stay
here. I’l want your co-operation on that.’
Sigurlin regarded me seriously. ‘I don’t like trouble with guns.’
‘Neither do I. I’m not exactly shouting for joy. That’s why I want Elin
out of it. Can she stay here for a while?’
‘A gunshot wound should be reported to the police.’
‘I know,’ I said wearily. ‘But I don’t think your police are equipped to
cope with this particular situation. It has international ramifications
and there is more than one gun involved. Innocent people could get
kil ed if it’s not careful y handled, and with no disrespect to your
police, I think they’d be likely to blunder.’
‘This trouble, as you cal it – is it criminal?’
‘Not in the normal sense. You might cal it an extreme form of political
action.’
Sigurlin turned down the corners of her mouth. ‘The only good thing I’ve
heard about this is that you want to keep Elin out of it,’ she said
waspishly. ‘Tel me, Alan Stewart; are you in love with her?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you going to marry her?’
‘If she’l have me after al this.’
She offered me a superior smile. ‘Oh, she’l have you. You’re hooked
like a salmon and you won’t get away now.’
‘I’m not so sure of that,’ I said. ‘There are certain things that have
come up lately that don’t add to my charms in Elin’s eyes.’
‘Such as guns?’ Sigurlin poured coffee. ‘You don’t need to answer that.
I won’t probe.’ She put the cup before me. ‘All right; I’l keep Elin here.’
‘I don’t know how you’re going to do it,’ I said. ‘I’ve never been able
to make her do anything she didn’t want to do.’
‘I’l put her to bed,’ said Sigurlin. ‘Strict medical supervision.
She’l argue, but she’l do it. You do what you have to do and Elin wil
stay here. But I won’t be able to keep her long. What happens if you
don’t come back from Geysir?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘But don’t let her go back to Reykjavik. To go
to the apartment would be extremely unwise.’
Sigurlin took a deep breath. ‘I’l see what I can do.’ She poured
herself a cup of coffee and sat down. ‘If it weren’t for the concern you
show for Elin I’d be inclined to . . .’ She shook her head irritably. ‘I
don’t like any of this, Alan. For God’s sake get it cleared up as
quickly as you can.’