The Last Refuge (36 page)

‘Even if we were two strangers alone, should I not be scared that you’d cut my balls off?’

‘No. You wouldn’t need to worry about that. Trust me.’

Too many thoughts tripping over each other. Holes being dug and no way out. Faces flashing before my eyes, like the dreams I’d been having come to life. She was investigating me. She wasn’t Karis. And Karis wasn’t all that I thought.

‘You live in that odd little house up in the hills, don’t you? I am in the Hotel Hafnia. On a different floor from either Nymann or Keilstrup.’

‘Nicoline . . .’ I realized it was the first time I’d used her name. ‘That wouldn’t be a good idea.’

‘What? Having a drink? Probably not, but it tastes good. And we really don’t have anyone else to talk to. Or are you presuming something more?’

This was a game that I might have enjoyed in better circumstances, but right now it made me curl inside. ‘No, I’m presuming nothing. Except innocence. That’s how it works, right?’

She nodded, lips pursed in thought. ‘That’s how it’s supposed to work, for sure. But my colleagues are presuming your guilt. I have a much more open mind.’

‘Nicoline . . .’

She knocked back her glass of whisky. ‘All gone. Your round.’

I wanted the booze, I knew that. Needed it. But I feared it too.

‘Okay, my round. Last one though, okay?’

‘Last one.’

As I stood at the bar waiting for the drinks to be poured, I juggled with wants and needs, responsibilities and guilt. Holes dug deep and tunnels that led out of them. I came to a decision of sorts. This game had to be played my way.

She was closer to me when I sat back down. This time we clinked glasses and she held my gaze.

‘I hear you are very good,’ I said. ‘The local inspector, Tunheim, he says that you are the best.’

A hint of pink blushed on her cheek. ‘Does he? I am good. I have been well trained. And I told you, I am very thorough.’

‘It can’t be easy working here though. With this much rain, crime scenes must be a nightmare.’

She tapped a finger to the side of her nose and slurred her words slightly: ‘Only if you don’t know what you are doing. A good examiner will always find the evidence, if it is there.’

‘And you found some at the scene of Aron Dam’s murder?’

It was her turn to be suspicious. She narrowed her eyes and stared accusingly. After a long pause, she looked around, but seeing no one else in the darkness of the Manhattan, apart from a couple of tired-looking older men in the far corner, replied: ‘I did. I got some good-quality DNA and all I need is someone to match it with. It is always good to get someone to match with, don’t you think?’

‘I’m confused though. If you have DNA then what’s the problem?’

She slid slightly closer. ‘It is not that simple. People have rights. We cannot just DNA test everyone on the islands.’

For the first time in a long time I suddenly felt that something was going my way. I had an answer. Maybe an answer to the whole thing. It was time to play my ace.

‘No, I guess you couldn’t test everyone. But what if it has already been done?’

Nicoline straightened up and sat back, suddenly a little more sober. ‘What? What do you mean?’

‘People here have already been DNA tested. They profiled the entire population for a project meant to aid medical research into hereditary illnesses and that sort of thing.’

I could see the wheels going round in Nicoline’s head, albeit slowed down by alcohol. ‘Okay, yes. I have read about this. There was a paper . . . but we couldn’t . . . the civil-liberties people would go crazy.’

I shrugged. ‘I guess. But if the killer was tested then he will be in the national database.’

Nicoline brought her whisky to her mouth, rubbing the edge of the glass against her lips before taking the tiniest of sips. ‘You are playing with me here. I shouldn’t have told you I lifted DNA from the scene.’

‘No. Probably not. But then maybe you were playing with me too.’

She ignored the accusation. ‘This database . . . I do not know if it is possible. But it is something to think about. In the morning.’

The game had to be ended. ‘In the morning sounds perfect. And now I’m going to walk you to your hotel and then go home.’

She gave a theatrical pout then shrugged. ‘But of course. What more could a girl want?’

I decided it was best for both of us that I didn’t answer.

I walked Nicoline to the front door of the Hafnia, the sound of music and laughter coming up the hill to greet us from the Cafe Natur. She caught me looking towards its wooden shell and held my gaze to let me know that she’d done so. Whatever questions she had were left unasked.

Instead, she moved towards me and made to hug or kiss me. As her head neared mine, I moved it to the side and kissed her softly on the cheek. Nicoline turned and walked away, waving behind her without a backward glance.

I left, shaking my head at the craziness of it all. Even though I seemed to have acquired unlikely allies in Tunheim and now Nicoline, both would disappear like water off a mountaintop if they were to find out about Nils Dam. Worse than that, they would turn on me with the fury of trust betrayed.

I wanted to get back to the shack. I knew I wouldn’t sleep, but I was exhausted and needed to lie down and rest my body if not my mind. But before the night turned into another day and another problem, I had one more visit to make.

Chapter 54

I wasn’t sure that Barthel had heard me knock at his door above the sound of ‘Heart-Shaped Box’ booming out of his overpriced CD unit. Nirvana threatened to shake his house more than any Torshavn storm. It left me standing on the doorstep with nothing to do but try to shut out the words of Nils Dam that were torturing me. It was a losing battle.

I knocked again, louder this time, desperate to be inside and get some sanctuary from my own thoughts. Thankfully, this time he heard me. The volume subsided and the door was pulled back, Barthel standing there looking none-too-pleased at being disturbed and less so when he saw it was me. He let loose a sigh and shook his head. ‘Come in. And hurry up before any nosey bastards see you.’

Tummas turned back into the house, leaving me to follow. A few strides took him to the CD player and the music was switched off. He dropped into a chair, making his displeasure clear. I wasn’t any happier than he was, but could only hope that my shredded nerves didn’t show.

Barthel raised the glass that sat beside him and sipped at it before raising it towards me questioningly. It was a temptation I knew I should fight.

‘I’ve had enough for one night, Tummas.’

He shrugged. ‘A nightcap for me. The sea will be calling all too soon. What do you want from me?’

‘Same as before.’

He scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hands and let out a mock yell. ‘Jesus, I should have stayed in London. I was never meant to be a fisherman, you know that? I don’t even like fish. And I hate the fucking sea. And as for Torshavn . . .’

‘What have you found out, Tummas?’

Another sigh. ‘I told you before how the Dams made more enemies than friends, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well it seems that included each other.’

The hairs on the back of my neck tingled. ‘Tell me. Please.’

He shrugged. ‘I hear that they fell out. Aron and Nils. I don’t know what the reason was, but they fought. Properly. Punches thrown and both of them hurt.’

My heart was racing. ‘When was this?’

Tummas scratched at his head where his hair once was, rubbing his scalp for luck or inspiration or just to help him work out what he should and shouldn’t tell me.

‘Maybe two weeks before Aron was killed. Another fisherman saw it. He says the Dams didn’t know he was there.’

‘Would he tell this to the police?’

Barthel’s laugh was rough and cheerless. ‘No. Of course he wouldn’t. No chance.’

‘What else did he say?’

‘He got the feeling it wasn’t a new fight. Not an old one either. A raw wound that reopened. He said Aron was shouting about how he had told Nils what he would do if it didn’t stop. The two of them went at it, not caring who got hurt or how much.’

‘How bad was it?’

Tummas breathed in deeply. ‘How bad? They both said they would kill the other. That bad.’

I let the words sink in, thinking of Nils lying on the floor of the whaling station.

‘And no one knows why they fought?’

Barthel spread his arms wide. ‘How can I know if no one knows? All I know is
I
don’t know.’

‘Nothing?’

‘Nothing I could say for certain. But maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with your friend Gotteri.’

‘Yes?’

‘Maybe. It’s what I heard.’

‘Come on, Tummas. What aren’t you telling me?’

Barthel sighed heavily and tapped the glass in front of him. ‘That you need to be careful. And that I need another drink.’

He grabbed the bottle of Ardbeg and splashed more into his glass. He didn’t seem to take much satisfaction from the mouthful that quickly followed, his lips spreading thin as he swallowed.

‘Your friend Gotteri . . . I’ve heard some things. Not good things. Nothing I can be certain about, but I am asking some more.’

‘Are you going to tell me what you know?’

‘Yes. Whisky?’

‘Tummas . . .’

‘I’d take one, if I was you. I think you might need it.’

Chapter 55

A light drizzle fell on Torshavn the next morning as I headed for the hire car, but it wasn’t likely to continue for long, judging by the blue sky that extended beyond the low hills of Nolsoy. The clouds overhead were scudding on elsewhere, driven by a westerly wind.

I was reminded of the Faroese proverb that Tunheim had told me: he who waits gets a tailwind, and he who rows, a harbour. I needed a harbour and I was going to row like crazy.

Walking down Torsgøta, my mind full of what lay ahead, I was startled by the blast of a car horn that made everyone within earshot turn and stare. Across the street, the window was sliding down on a black four-wheel-drive Skoda Yeti. I knew the car immediately. It was Gotteri.

He waved maniacally at me, urging me across the street to him. The last time I had seen him, he had sped away in the same car, yet here he was, desperate to speak to me. The words of both the
National Geographic
editor and Tummas Barthel were fresh in my mind.

Even from the opposite pavement, I could see how stressed he looked, worn and anxious. I took a fair amount of pleasure in that, and wanted to know more. I crossed the street to him.

‘Hey, my friend, how are you?’ He wore his habitual smile, but it didn’t sit naturally. ‘Where are you off to this morning?’

‘Just for a walk. Clear my head.’

I got the feeling that Gotteri was scrutinizing me, trying to read beyond my words. His eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to work something out. ‘Yeah? A few drinks last night then? I heard you were in the Manhattan.’

‘Yeah. Small place this. Word travels fast.’

He shrugged. ‘You know how it is. People talk. So where are you going?’

I matched his shrug. ‘Don’t know. I’ll just see where I end up.’

Gotteri nodded thoughtfully. ‘Well just be careful where you walk. Don’t go stepping over any cliffs.’

‘I’ll try not to, thanks.’ There was more he wanted to say. I could see it in his face. ‘So what’s happening, Serge? You look tense.’

The word stung him and the fake smile vanished. ‘Me? No, not tense. I do not know why you would say that. I am not tense. I am just . . . looking for someone. Maybe you could help me.’

‘Maybe.’

He hesitated, his face darkening. ‘It is not important. No, just looking. I wondered if maybe you had seen Nils Dam around.’

I tried not to react to the name. My pulse quickened and I wondered what he knew, what he could know. A creeping sense of dread spilled through me. I did my best to keep my voice level.

‘Aron’s brother? What is it with you? Do you not think I have been through enough with the Dams? The last time I saw him was after I left court with you. If I had seen him again I would have crossed the road to avoid him.’

He nodded slowly, thoughtfully.

‘What do you want with Nils anyway? I thought you didn’t know him? That’s what you told me.’ And it was very different from what I’d heard from Tummas.

‘I don’t. Not really. But he knows someone I know, and Nils has not been seen for a couple of days. But you have not seen him, no?’

‘No.’

‘Okay. You be careful.’ The window moved up and the car accelerated in one movement, wheels spinning as it sped off up Torsgøta and out of sight.

The rented Peugeot’s suspension complained as it bounced along the rutted track to the whaling station at Við Áir. My stomach lurched along with it.

I parked out of sight behind the building on the right, took a bag from the boot and made my way to the middle structure. The heavy door groaned but I made no effort to disguise the sound. I drew as deep a breath as my lungs would allow and went inside.

My eyes quickly adjusted to the gloom and I saw Nils motionless against an old industrial freezer, where I’d left him. Where I’d left him alive.

He’d hurt and he’d bled but he was alive and relatively well. With the knife at his throat, it would have been the easiest and the hardest thing in the world to kill him and yet I didn’t do it. Desperate as I was, I’d learned I wasn’t the kind of man who could do something like that. It turned out that I
was
better than that, after all.

But I must have been close. Nils had seen the reality of that on my face and had all but shit himself. He’d begun to talk and in seconds I’d wished he hadn’t. For a fleeting, maddening second, I wished I’d drawn the blade across his throat instead.

I’d hit him hard before I hurriedly tied both his arms and left him there with the sharp shelving of the freezer digging into his back and guaranteeing that he’d get as little sleep as I would. Then I’d fled.

His head lifted slowly now, scowling at me as I walked across the room, but at the same time it was obvious that he was glad to see I’d returned. Like a whipped dog still pleased to see its master because it meant food. Clearly food with a fist was better than none at all.