the face of the earth, but it’s not as if that hasn’t happened before. Both of these men are . . . were business acquaintances of ours.’
‘So you feel you could be subject to some kind of similar attack?’
‘Exactly. I’m not too worried, but my wife is concerned, as you can imagine.’
‘I see.’
‘What can you do?’
‘What do you want? I can provide advice on where to go and not go, what to do or not do, places to avoid, things to look out for. Or I can accompany you if that’s what you feel you need.’
Sunna María looked anxiously at Jóhann and nodded while he rested his chin in one hand.
‘Round-the-clock or daylight hours?’ he asked.
‘It’s up to you. I can sleep in the same room as you if that’s what you feel is needed.’
‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary,’ Jóhann said with a tired smile.
‘Can you tell me anything about the circumstances of these murders, so I have an idea of what we are talking about here?’
‘Villi was shot,’ Sunna María said, her voice welling up with pent-up anxiety.
‘I thought that was a drug-related killing?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Sunna María said.
‘So what can you do?’ Jóhann asked. ‘Anything?’
‘No guarantees. I can’t stop a bullet but I would expect to be able to keep you out of a dangerous situation.’
‘Good,’ Jóhann said with the air of a man who has made a decision. That’s what we’ll do. Can you be here from nine to nine?’
‘Of course.’
‘Fine. We’ll see you here tomorrow morning.’
‘You don’t want to know how much I charge?
‘No.’ Jóhann covered a yawn. ‘If I get murdered then I’m not going to be here to write any cheques, am I?’
Orri shouted out but heard only his own voice coming back at him. He strained at the tape holding his hands together, and in a fit of panic he pulled frantically, the broad tape cutting into his wrists as he did so.
Panting with anger and fear, he stopped and sat motionless, the unbearable pressure in his bladder forgotten as he felt blood trickling over his hands. He made himself think, banishing his loathing of the voice from his mind as he concentrated on how to free himself. Hands, feet, eyes, he thought. Any one of those would make it easier to deal with the other two problems, and after that he could think about escaping from this terrible house that he fervently wished he’d never set foot in.
He forced himself to relax, and as he did so he felt the chair shift under him. He wriggled in his seat and wondered what kind of chair he had been bound to, hearing it groan. He guessed wood from the sound it made. He tried to stand up, straining to straighten his body, and was rewarded with feeling the chair start to loosen its grip. He kicked frantically, both feet at a time, feeling the tape cut this time into the skin above his ankles as the chair complained and finally collapsed under him. It left him winded on the floor in its wooden wreckage, but he was able to slide his bound ankles over the ends of the chair legs, and the back of the chair had broken, leaving his hands taped loosely together.
Cautiously he sat up and shook away the remnants of the chair back that his arms had been tied across, finding that he could at least move them. He struggled to his feet awkwardly and took a few slow steps forward, blundering into a wall hard enough to make him see stars. With the wall against one shoulder, he stumbled cautiously around the room, trying desperately to remember what he had seen in it before he had been ambushed.
Just as he recalled having seen a set of shelves with a steel frame, he found himself walking into it, giving himself a knock on the side of the head that almost sent him reeling back in pain as he fought back his rising panic. Turning his back, Orri felt clumsily along the bottom shelf at waist height, his fingers becoming increasingly numb, and groaning with relief as he found the end, and with it the sharp edge of the
‘So you feel you could be subject to some kind of similar attack?’
‘Exactly. I’m not too worried, but my wife is concerned, as you can imagine.’
‘I see.’
‘What can you do?’
‘What do you want? I can provide advice on where to go and not go, what to do or not do, places to avoid, things to look out for. Or I can accompany you if that’s what you feel you need.’
Sunna María looked anxiously at Jóhann and nodded while he rested his chin in one hand.
‘Round-the-clock or daylight hours?’ he asked.
‘It’s up to you. I can sleep in the same room as you if that’s what you feel is needed.’
‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary,’ Jóhann said with a tired smile.
‘Can you tell me anything about the circumstances of these murders, so I have an idea of what we are talking about here?’
‘Villi was shot,’ Sunna María said, her voice welling up with pent-up anxiety.
‘I thought that was a drug-related killing?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Sunna María said.
‘So what can you do?’ Jóhann asked. ‘Anything?’
‘No guarantees. I can’t stop a bullet but I would expect to be able to keep you out of a dangerous situation.’
‘Good,’ Jóhann said with the air of a man who has made a decision. That’s what we’ll do. Can you be here from nine to nine?’
‘Of course.’
‘Fine. We’ll see you here tomorrow morning.’
‘You don’t want to know how much I charge?
‘No.’ Jóhann covered a yawn. ‘If I get murdered then I’m not going to be here to write any cheques, am I?’
Orri shouted out but heard only his own voice coming back at him. He strained at the tape holding his hands together, and in a fit of panic he pulled frantically, the broad tape cutting into his wrists as he did so.
Panting with anger and fear, he stopped and sat motionless, the unbearable pressure in his bladder forgotten as he felt blood trickling over his hands. He made himself think, banishing his loathing of the voice from his mind as he concentrated on how to free himself. Hands, feet, eyes, he thought. Any one of those would make it easier to deal with the other two problems, and after that he could think about escaping from this terrible house that he fervently wished he’d never set foot in.
He forced himself to relax, and as he did so he felt the chair shift under him. He wriggled in his seat and wondered what kind of chair he had been bound to, hearing it groan. He guessed wood from the sound it made. He tried to stand up, straining to straighten his body, and was rewarded with feeling the chair start to loosen its grip. He kicked frantically, both feet at a time, feeling the tape cut this time into the skin above his ankles as the chair complained and finally collapsed under him. It left him winded on the floor in its wooden wreckage, but he was able to slide his bound ankles over the ends of the chair legs, and the back of the chair had broken, leaving his hands taped loosely together.
Cautiously he sat up and shook away the remnants of the chair back that his arms had been tied across, finding that he could at least move them. He struggled to his feet awkwardly and took a few slow steps forward, blundering into a wall hard enough to make him see stars. With the wall against one shoulder, he stumbled cautiously around the room, trying desperately to remember what he had seen in it before he had been ambushed.
Just as he recalled having seen a set of shelves with a steel frame, he found himself walking into it, giving himself a knock on the side of the head that almost sent him reeling back in pain as he fought back his rising panic. Turning his back, Orri felt clumsily along the bottom shelf at waist height, his fingers becoming increasingly numb, and groaning with relief as he found the end, and with it the sharp edge of the
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