and the trees. ‘All those trees,’ she said luxuriously. ‘Scotland must
be beautiful.’ That was an expected reaction from an Icelander; the
island is virtual y treeless. ‘Are there salmon in your river?’
‘Just trout,’ I said. ‘I come to Iceland for salmon.’
She picked up another photograph – a wide landscape. ‘What on here is
yours?’
I looked at it and grinned. ‘All you can see.’
‘Oh!’ She was silent for a while, then said a little shyly, ‘I’ve never
real y thought about it, Alan; but you must be rich.’
‘I’m no Croesus,’ I said. ‘But I get by. Three thousand acres of heather
isn’t very productive, but sheep on the hil s and forestry in the glen
bring in the bread, and Americans who come to shoot the deer put butter
on the bread.’ I stroked her arm. ‘You’l have to come to Scotland.’
‘I’d like that,’ she said simply.
I put it to her fast. ‘I have to see a man in Akureyri tomorrow ? it’s a
favour I’m doing for a friend. That means I’l have to fly. Why don’t
you take up the Land-Rover and meet me there? Or would it be too much
for you to drive al that way?’
She laughed at me. ‘I can drive the Land-Rover better than you.’ She
began to calculate. ‘It’s 450 kilometres; I wouldn’t want to do that in
one day so I’d stop somewhere near Hvammstangi. I could be in Akureyri
at mid-morning the next day.’
‘No need to break your neck,’ I said casual y. I was relieved; I could
fly to Akureyri, get rid of the package before Elin got there and al
would be wel . There was no need to involve her at al . I said, ‘I’l
probably stay at the Hotel Vardborg. You can telephone me there.’
But when we went to bed I found I was strung up with unrelieved tensions
and I could do nothing for her. While holding Elin in the darkness,
Lindholm’s face hovered ghost-like in my inner vision and again I tasted
the nausea in my throat. I choked a little, and said, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It doesn’t matter, darling,’ she said quietly. ‘You’re tired. Just go
to sleep.’
But I couldn’t. I lay on my back and reviewed the whole of an unpleasant
day. I went over every word that had been said by my uncommunicative
contact at Keflavik airport, the man whom Slade had said would pass me
the package. /’Don’t take the main road to Reykjavik,’/ he had said.
/’Go by Krysuvik.’/ So I had gone by Krysuvik and come within an ace of
being kil ed. Chance or design? Would the same thing have happened had I
gone by the main road? Had I been set up as a patsy deliberately?
The man at the airport had been Slade’s man, or at least he had the
password that Slade had arranged. But supposing he wasn’t Slade’s man
and stil had the password – it wasn’t too hard to think up ways and
means of that coming about. Then why had he set me up for Lindholm?
Certainly not for the package – he already had the package! Scratch that
one and start again.
Supposing he /bad/ been Slade’s man and had stil set me up for Lindholm
– that made less sense. And, again, it couldn’t have been for the
package; he needn’t have given it to me in the first place. It al
boiled down to the fact that the man at the airport and Lindholm had
nothing to do with each other.
But Lindholm had definitely been waiting for me. He had even made sure
of my name before attacking. So how in hel did he know I’d be on the
Krysuvik road? That was one I couldn’t answer.
Presently, when I was sure Elin was sound asleep, I got out of bed
quietly and went into the kitchen, not bothering to turn on a light. I
opened the refrigerator and poured myself a glass of milk, then wandered
into the living-room and sat by the window. The short northern night was
almost over but it was stil dark enough to see the sudden glow from the
al ey across the street as the watching man drew on a cigarette.
He worried me because I was no longer certain Elin was safe.
Chapter III
We were both up early. Elin because she wanted to make a quick start for
Akureyri, and I because I wanted to get at the Land-Rover before Elin
did. I had some things to stow in the Land-Rover that I didn’t want Elin
to know about; Lindholm’s gun, for instance. I taped it securely to one
of the main chassis girders and wel out of sight. His cosh I put in my
pocket. It had occurred to me that if things did not go wel I might be
in need of weaponry in Akureyri.
I didn’t have to go out of the front door to get at the Land-Rover
because the garage was at the back, and so the watcher in the al ey got
no sight of me. But I saw him because the next thing I did was to take a
pair of field glasses one flight up to a landing where there was a
window overlooking the street.
He was a tal , lean man with a neat moustache and he looked cold. If he
had been there al night without a break he would be not only frozen to
the marrow but starving. I made sure I would know him again if I saw him
and lowered the glasses just as someone came downstairs from an upstairs
flat. It was a middle-aged grey-haired woman who looked at me and then
at the glasses and gave a meaningful sniff.
I grinned. It was the first time I had been suspected of voyeurism.
I enjoyed breakfast al the more because of my hungry friend across the
street. ‘You’re looking more cheerful,’ said Elin.
‘It’s your cooking,’ I said.
She looked at the herring, the cheese, the bread and the eggs. ‘What
cooking? Anyone can boil an egg.’
‘Not like you,’ I assured her.
But I /was/ more cheerful. The dark thoughts of the night had gone and
in spite .of al the unanswered questions the death of Lindholm no
longer oppressed me. He had tried to kil me and failed, and had
suffered the penalty for failure. The fact that I had kil ed him didn’t
weigh too heavily upon my conscience. My only lingering worry was for Elin.
I said, ‘There’s a flight for Akureyri from Reykjavik City Airport at
eleven.’
‘You’l have lunch there,’ said Elin. ‘Spare a thought for me bouncing
about down in Kaldidalur.’ She swal owed hot coffee hastily. ‘I’d like
to leave as soon as possible.’
I waved at the laden table. ‘I’l clean up here.’
She got ready to leave, then picked up the binoculars. ‘I thought these
were in the Land-Rover.’
‘I was just checking them,’ I said. ‘They seemed a bit out of focus last
time I used them. They’re al right, though.’
‘Then I’l take them,’ she said.
I went with her down to the garage and kissed her goodbye. She looked at
me closely, and said, ‘Everything /is/ al right, isn’t it, Alan?’
‘Of course, why do you ask?’
‘I don’t real y know. I’m just being feminine, I suppose. See you in
Akureyri.’
I waved her off and watched as she drove away. Nobody seemed to bother;
no heads popped around corners and no one followed in hot pursuit. I
went back into the flat and checked on the watcher in the al ey. He
wasn’t to be seen, so I made a mad dash for the upstairs landing from
where I could get a better view and I breathed easier when I saw him
leaning against the wal , beating his hands against his arms.
It would seem that he was not aware that Elin had left or, if he was, he
didn’t care. It lifted a considerable load off my mind.
I washed the breakfast crockery and then went to my room where I took a
camera bag and emptied it of its contents. Then I took the
hessian-covered steel box and found that it fitted neatly into the
leather bag. From now on it was not going to leave my person until I
handed it over in Akureyri.
At ten o’clock I rang for a taxi and left for the airport, a move which
resulted in some action. I looked back along the street and saw a car
draw up near the al ey into which my watcher jumped. The car fol owed
the taxi al the way to the airport, keeping a discreet distance.
On arrival I went to the reservation counter. ‘I have a reservation on
the flight to Akureyri. My name is Stewart.’
The receptionist checked a list. ‘Oh, yes; Mr Stewart.’ She looked at