Thin Ice: An Inspector Gunna Mystery (Gunnhildur Mystery Book 5) by Quentin Bates

bastard’s nose and knocked his teeth out for him, I’ve spent three days so far hanging out up here in the arsehole of beyond with you, and there’s an angry gangster in Reykjavík who wants my balls on a plate, along with yours, so I reckon that adds up to something close to a fifty-fifty split.’
    Össur glared and chewed a nail.
    ‘So I’m wondering if I need to be on the way to Spain for a few years like you.’
    ‘Who says I’m coming back?’
    Magni shrugged. ‘Speaks for itself, doesn’t it? But if we’re going to be here for longer than a few more days, we need some supplies to keep us going. Whatever happens, we’re going to need fuel in the tank.’
    ‘I still don’t trust you not to come back.’
    ‘It’s up to you. But if I wanted to walk away, I could do it any time.’
    ‘What?’
    Magni leaned forward and placed his folded arms on the table in front of him. ‘Look, Össi, you thought you were getting shit-for-brains hired muscle, which is all I thought the job needed. But I’m no idiot. If I wanted to I could have had Erna’s Explorer down the road yesterday, instead of going to the trouble of putting it inside and going through all this shit with you now.’
    Össur quailed at Magni’s frown. ‘All right. Go on, then. If you think you can do it. When? Now?’ he asked. ‘I might consider adjusting your percentage once we’re clear.’
    ‘Yeah, right. Let’s leave it until it starts to get dark, shall we? No point in drawing attention to ourselves. But I’ll need some cash.’
    Össur laughed for the first time. ‘Don’t think you’re going to spend a handful of euros in a country petrol station without anyone noticing.’
    ‘Krónur, obviously.’
    ‘I don’t have any cash.’
    ‘Or a card?’
    ‘Don’t be stupid. I deal in cash.’
    ‘Well, my card’s maxed out until next week, so I guess we need to persuade the lady upstairs to part with her security numbers. So maybe you had better be a bit nicer to her. An apology might be in order.’
     
    Alli the Cornershop rarely felt nervous, but the robbery the other day had left him feeling vulnerable, as well as a lot poorer than he wanted to be. It didn’t help that Baldvin, who was supposed to be there to keep nutjobs like Össi Óskars out of his hair when their presence wasn’t required, was out of the picture while some wealthy dentist was making himself even more wealthy trying to patch up the mess that Össur’s tame gorilla had made of Baldvin’s teeth.
    ‘A shame about your friend Árni the other day,’ Rafn commiserated.
    Alli shrugged. ‘It’s a dangerous habit, smoking in bed.’
    The young man never failed to make even Alli the Cornershop’s blood run a little colder. The impassive expression and chilled blue eyes were unnerving enough, but Rafn had a reputation for brains as well as ruthlessness. Alli hated having to involve a bunch like the Undertakers, who were not only his competition but also people who would gladly take every shred of his business if they thought they could.
    ‘What’s the problem, Alli?’
    ‘It’s a problem with someone who’s been making a nuisance of himself. It’s a job I’d like to contract out rather than deal with myself.’
    ‘Why?’ Rafn’s gaze remained completely impassive as he took stock of Alli. ‘I’d have thought you’d want to keep something like that in-house?’
    The words ‘something like that’ made Alli shudder as he wondered how much of his business was common knowledge.
    ‘Logistics and discretion,’ he said smoothly. ‘It calls for someone who isn’t going to be traced back to me, and if there’s no trail of footprints, it won’t lead back to you either.’
    ‘You’re not thinking of the law here, are you?’ Rafn asked, and Alli saw the faintest glimmer of sardonic amusement at the corner of the young man’s mouth.
    ‘I don’t have your manpower,’ Alli said.
    ‘The famous little black book doesn’t have all the right contacts