House of Evidence (23 page)

H
alldór found the former surveyor in a small double room in the Grund Nursing Home, resting on his bed and listening to the radio. The bed was too short, and had been extended by placing a small chest at its foot and draping it with folded blankets. The old man rose to receive his visitor; he was a giant of a man, a good six foot six despite his slight stoop. He had a neatly trimmed white beard, an aquiline nose, and sharp eyes. When they shook, Halldór felt his hand engulfed in the old man’s powerful grip.

Halldór explained the purpose of his visit, and Kristján invited his guest to take a seat on the only chair in the room, as he sat down on the edge of the bed. It took Halldór a moment to decide how to begin, finally settling on the simplest question. “How did you meet engineer Jacob?”

“He asked me to be his survey assistant,” Kristján replied.

“How come?”

“I had some experience with that sort of thing. I graduated from secondary school in 1912 but couldn’t afford college, so I became an assistant to some people in the Danish army who were mapping Iceland. My father was a farmer in the Kjós district, and the surveyors rented horses from him, which I looked after as they traveled about.”

“What surveying did you and Jacob do?”

“The first job we did together was to survey for the railroad eastward through the Threngsli Pass. After that it was whatever came our way.”

“Were you fully employed by Jacob right from the start?”

“No. I did a lot of tourist guiding across the highlands, as I’d gotten to know the countryside well during my survey trips with the Danes.”

“When did he offer you a full-time job?”

“That was in the spring of 1927, when it looked as if the Hydroelectric Company would be building the railroad.”

“And that came to nothing?”

“That’s right.”

“Did you take an interest in the setting up of the railroad company?”

“Yes, of course; shares in the company made up the bulk of my salary from 1932 until 1939.”

“So you must have lost a lot of money.”

“Well, I made my choices.”

“What did you do during these years?”

“In the summers, I selected routes and did the basic surveys for the railroad line northward along Kjölur, and in the winters, I worked on drafting.”

“Was this a feasible option for a railroad?”

“Yes, definitely. Three German railroad engineers came here in the summer of 1936, and I showed them the route I’d picked. They were very pleased with it.”

“Was this presented to the authorities?”

“No, it was a very sensitive matter during those years. Because we had a left-wing government, we had to keep everything involving Germany under wraps, so the Germans pretended to be
geologists taking soil samples. I remember that we ended our journey back south to Reykjavik by filling some hessian sacks with stuff taken from an earth bank in Kjalarnes, and labeling them with all kinds of symbols.”

“Tell me a bit more about that trip.”

“We took Jacob’s car and headed east. I went with the Germans on foot through the Threngsli Pass, while Jacob drove over Hellisheidi to pick us up and drive us up through Biskupstungur all the way to Lake Hvítárvatn. From there we, the Germans and I, continued northward on foot, along the Kjalvegur track and down into Blöndudalur, while Jacob turned back, drove up through Borgarfjördur, and met us in the north, where we then drove on to Akureyri.”

“Wasn’t it difficult to keep all this secret?”

“We were careful.”

“What was the outcome of the journey?”

“The Germans were very happy with our plans, and gave positive feedback when they got back home.”

“What happened then?”

“Jacob devised a way to utilize the Germans’ contribution, involving an independent limited company he set up in Germany to own the trains and lease them to the company here. The trains were built in Germany so it didn’t cost the Germans any foreign currency, which they were very short of during those years. Most of the Iceland Railroad Company’s capital was then used to buy cross ties in Norway and rails in Germany. They were ready on the quay in Hamburg when the war broke out.”

Halldór brought out the picture of the train.

“Have you seen this picture before?”

Kristján took the picture.

“Yes, Jacob showed it to me. We were very pleased about it at the time.”

“Were you aware of Jacob’s illness?”

“What illness?”

“Depression.”

“Jacob wasn’t mentally ill; he just needed to rest from time to time and think things through. Who says that he was mentally ill?”

“Thórdur.”

“I might have known. Why does he have to blacken Jacob’s memory after all that’s happened?”

“Are you and Thórdur not on friendly terms?”

“I didn’t particularly like him.”

“Why was that?”

“I didn’t feel he was sincere about the railroad project. He was continually trying to discourage Jacob with all sorts of pessimistic notions. He wasn’t happy until he had dissolved the company after Jacob’s death.”

“Were you against that?”

“Yes, there was no reason for the company to cease trading, and I would never have agreed to it if Elizabeth herself hadn’t asked me to sell her my stock.”

“So were you then paid this twenty percent?”

“No, that would have been blood money. I
gave
Elizabeth my stock. There were others who got a lot of money, but I’m not naming names.”

“Can you remember Jacob’s death?”

“Yes, as if it had happened yesterday.”

“Were you working for him then?”

“No. He came to the office on the morning of July tenth and told Thórdur and myself that he planned to close the business for
a few days. We were to take time off. I went to visit my parents, and was busy baling hay on my parents’ farm when I heard the news.”

“You remember the date remarkably well.”

“Yes, it was my birthday, my fiftieth. It was also really unusual. We were not in the habit of taking time off at what was our busiest time of year.”

“Have you any idea who might have shot Jacob?”

“No, though hardly a day has passed these twenty-eight years when I haven’t thought about it, but I have never been able to understand it.”

“Did anybody benefit from Jacob’s death?”

“It seems to me that Thórdur has done all right after getting the engineering firm for next to nothing.”

“Have you had any contact with the family since that time?”

“No, I haven’t been to Birkihlíd since he died. I met Elizabeth only once, and that was when she came to me and asked for the shares.”

“You haven’t met Jacob Junior either?”

“No.”

Halldór got up to leave, and held out his hand for the photo.

“I wonder if it’s possible to get a copy of this?” said Kristján, looking at the picture lying in his lap.

“You can probably talk to the beneficiaries about that when the investigation is over,” Halldór replied, “unless they would rather keep the existence of this train quiet. You never know.”

“I would really love to have a picture like this one,” Kristján said, handing it back. “What irks me most,” he added, “is that I have never been abroad…I have never traveled on a train.”

Diary XI

September 12, 1930. We had some very tragic news today. Our motor car went off the road on Kambar Hill and overturned. My father ended up under the car and died instantly. Hallgrímur, the shop assistant, survived, but with injuries to his head and arms. The Árnessýsla County sheriff telephoned us and then the parish pastor visited us. My mother has taken to her bed…

September 13, 1930. My father’s body was conveyed to Reykjavik today. I am consumed with deep and impotent fury. If only we had had the railroad, this would never have happened. This road down Kambar Hill is very dangerous…

November 21, 1930. Our little daughter was born this morning. We are so happy. Now there is joy once more in this house, which has been so silent since my father died. Such is the way of life, one person leaves and another arrives…

November 29, 1930. This evening I sat by my daughter’s crib. She is a tiny little human being, and yet she looks so intelligent. When she looks us in the eye, it seems as if she is aware of something we don’t know of. Young Jacob is besotted with his sister.

T
he snow had been trodden down on the paved area in front of the yellow apartment block, and it was not easy to shovel. Pétur didn’t seem too concerned with the job, though, as he leaned on his shovel gossiping with his friend and neighbor, Albert. Or rather, Pétur pontificated while Albert listened with interest, grinning from ear to ear, and emitting an occasional nasal laugh.

Albert was a short fellow in his seventies; he lived in the house next door and spent the better part of each day on the lookout at his kitchen window. As soon as he spotted someone familiar outside, he’d nip out for a chat. Today, he was wearing a green sheepskin coat and a fur-lined baseball cap with earmuffs, whereas a sweater seemed to be adequate for Pétur, whose snow-shoveling duties, as relaxed as they were, kept him warm.

Now and again Pétur would shift a few shovels of snow, but then he would think of a new story that he wanted to tell Albert, and the shoveling would cease again. If a resident of the house passed, the pair would give a cheery greeting and follow the person inquisitively with their eyes, while Pétur speculated as to their particular comings and goings, based on previous observation, often concluding with some juicy rumor about their subject of the moment.

When Hrefna came through the gate carrying plastic bags in both hands, Pétur instantly put down his shovel and opened the front door for her.

“Good afternoon,” he said cheerfully, “any news of the murder case?”

“Good afternoon,” Hrefna replied. “No, not as far as I know.”

Pétur watched her as she went up the stairs, then turned back to his shovel. “She’s coming home from work. She’s not married,” he said to Albert.

“Ehe he,” Albert laughed.

“She works for the detective division, but they don’t tell her anything much.”

“He he.”

“They’re investigating this murder of Jacob Kieler in Birkihlíd.”

“Ehe he he.”

“Once, many years ago, I did a job for him with my jackhammer.”

“He he?”

“There was a fireplace in the laundry room that had been bricked up, and he had me open it up. The guy was trying to restore the laundry room to its original state and wanted the fireplace to follow suit.”

“He he.”

“But could I get him to pay? I charged him a fortune, of course, because I thought that they must have a bit of money in that palace of theirs, but I didn’t get a bit of it. In the end, I had to reduce the amount by half, and then he finally paid up. He threatened me with the tax authorities when I suggested I do it for cash.”

“He he.”

“But that’s not the whole story. There was some funny business going on in that house.”

“He he?”

Pétur kept Albert in suspense while he shoveled a bit more snow.

Diary XII

March 5, 1931. I have been looking for an opportunity to speak with ministers and members of parliament to press for some action on the railroad business. It seems to me that they are being evasive. Last year it was the preparations for the Althing Festival, whereas now they plead political conflicts and the financial crisis…

May 5, 1931. These are difficult times. Father’s shop has not done well this winter, and I don’t seem to have any other option but to close it. I have not found a buyer, and letting other people manage it clearly doesn’t work. I do not feel I can deal with this. I must try and get more projects for the engineering firm. We should be poorly off financially were it not for Elizabeth’s funds…

May 8, 1931. I am experiencing an odd anxiety. I try, nevertheless, not to show it, but I sense that Elizabeth is watching me. Is it possible that my work of ten years on the railroad business will come to nothing?

A
s she climbed the stairs carrying the plastic bags filled with the diaries, Hrefna could hear the scrape of Pétur’s shovel on the hardpack below. Those two were certainly irritating, she thought to herself; she found it very annoying, and a bit uncomfortable, to be watched every time she came and went.

Her cozy apartment was a welcome relief, after so many long days on the job. She sighed, tired from the difficult day, and knowing it was not over yet.

Elsa greeted her mother warmly, took her coat, and brought her a cup of tea in the parlor. They chatted for a little while. These quiet moments at the end of the day, when they sat down and talked with each other, were some of her most cherished. They were good friends and able to discuss everything, although Hrefna tried to avoid the topic of her work with Elsa; not because she didn’t trust her daughter in confidential matters, but because it seemed of little interest to Elsa. Instead, they talked about school, music, books, relatives and friends, films, boys, sports, and just about anything else that came up.

Hrefna made her special meat stew for supper; it was a favorite of both of theirs. Still, she couldn’t help thinking about the fantastic meal she’d enjoyed the previous evening and felt a tinge of inferiority at the
comparison. How wonderful it would be to have time and money to cook such a feast; as they ate, she shared the experience with Elsa.

“Dig that, a servant all to yourself,” Elsa said enviously. “This must be a big-time important guy.”

“Yes, he is,” Hrefna replied. “In some ways.”

After supper, she drank two cups of coffee, before returning to the diaries. She looked again at the last entries in book number nineteen:

July 5, 1945. Went to study the route for a road to the President’s mansion at Bessastadir for the Director of Highways.

July 6, 1945. Bought new black shoes for 58 krónur.

July 7, 1945. Sorted out papers in the office in the morning. Had coffee outside in the sunshine in the afternoon. Kirsten’s girlfriends came for a visit.

July 8, 1945. Matthías arrives tomorrow.

It was all very mundane and ordinary, and yet the diaries stopped so abruptly. She leafed back and forth through the final few pages to try and find an explanation, but there was nothing, so she returned to where she had left off, at the beginning of diary number thirteen.

Diary XIII

February 25, 1932. I have now lost all hope that the authorities will involve themselves in the construction of the railroad. Perhaps that is for the best. Private enterprise should deal with this. I have decided to set up the Iceland Railroad Company Ltd. and dedicate all my vigor to its realization…

March 4, 1932. I have asked Kristján to design the share certificates for the railroad company and devise its trademark…

June 28, 1932. I have been touring around the farms in the Flói district today, having discussions with farmers. I am having very little success selling stock in the company. Many refuse completely, while others subscribe token sums that will not get us anywhere. The occasional one who is reasonably well off makes a larger contribution. This is going to be an uphill journey.

September 15, 1932. My wife and I held a concert in our home this evening. A string quartet from the music society played a few pieces, and a young tenor sang to piano accompaniment. I asked Magnús to stay behind when the guests left, and asked if I might put his name down for some shares in the railroad. He agreed on condition that I would assist him in the business with the king. He has told me before that he is of the opinion that Iceland should become a monarchy when we sever the connection with Denmark. He wants to look for a potential king among noble or ruling families in Europe. He must be a well-educated man, married, and the father of one or two sons. Magnús thinks that Germany may be the most likely place to find such a man, but he
needs help with his search. He thinks that if a suitable candidate is found, he might be invited to visit the country and be presented to the nation. He feels the population will welcome their potential king with open arms when they see that here they have an aristocrat who is prepared to reside in the country, learn Icelandic, and live with the nation in good times and in bad. I suggested that a monarchy might be too costly for Iceland, but Magnús said that need not be the case. Some royal people are so wealthy that they could to a large extent pay their own way, and even bring capital into the country. The nation would, of course, have to build a residence for the king and contribute some initial capital expenditure, but that would also be the case were the country to become a republic under a president. Magnús does not speak foreign languages and, therefore, needs assistance with his search. I said that I would think about it…

October 23, 1932. I have decided to assist Magnús with the monarchy issue. Not because of the railroad, as he came here this morning and bought shares in the railroad company without condition, but because I can see that becoming involved in this may open up opportunities for meeting foreign investors, as I now realize that I shall never acquire sufficient capital for the enterprise here in Iceland…