‘OK?’ repeated Elena, audibly astonished. ‘You want me to go to the police?’
‘No, I’ll tell you where she is. Or … wouldn’t you rather come with me this evening and see her in person?’
‘What? Seriously? Yes, of course I would.’
‘I’m sure it’ll be all right. It’s a big day, exciting news … I’ll take you there.’
As he spoke, the wheels in his mind were busy turning, working out the perfect spot: the isolated little cove at Flekkuvík, about halfway between Reykjavík and Keflavík. It was an area he knew well; through his work as a guide, he was familiar with much of his country’s geography, either from first-hand experience or reading about it in books. The advantage of this particular cove was that, although only quarter of an hour’s drive from Njardvík, it wasn’t overlooked by any houses or the road. They were guaranteed to be the only people around since it wasn’t even accessible by car: they would have to get out and walk the last few hundred yards.
‘Can you come and pick me up?’ Elena asked.
‘Hmm … not from the hostel. I can’t take the risk of being seen – because of Katja being in hiding, you understand.’ He mentioned a shop within walking distance of the hostel and asked Elena to meet him there.
‘It’s such a long way,’ Elena whined, her teeth chattering from the cold. Although there was no snow on the ground, the weather was freezing and she wasn’t adequately dressed. Still, it couldn’t be helped. Bjartur led the way along the path to the cove. Ahead loomed a couple of buildings, hard to make out in the gloom.
‘She’s in that house over there, the one closer to the sea,’ he said at last.
‘Seriously? Katja’s there?’
‘No one would think of looking for her here.’
‘Unbelievable. You mean she’s been here all the time?’
‘She was staying with me to begin with,’ Bjartur said, allowing a little warmth to steal into his voice. For a moment, he almost believed it himself, recalling his fantasy about marrying her and taking her to live in his house. ‘But it was too risky,’ he went on. ‘I’ve got my elderly parents living with me. They’d have found out sooner or later.’
‘I see,’ Elena said.
He couldn’t read her expression in the darkness. Was she convinced?
‘I’m sure she’ll be eligible for a residence permit, like me,’ Elena continued after a moment. ‘Our situations aren’t that different.’
‘Right,’ said Bjartur. ‘Right.’
‘But … it’s a pity she had to run away like that. Was it your idea?’ Her voice was accusatory.
‘Mine? Of course not.’ Bjartur adopted an injured tone. ‘I did my best to talk her out of it.’
‘Does she know? That we’re coming, I mean?’
‘No. She hasn’t got a phone.’
Elena was silent.
Only as they approached the houses did she speak again.
‘You know what, this doesn’t feel right, Bjartur. No one could live here. There’s no glass in the windows. These buildings are empty.’
‘Don’t be silly. I assure you she’s here.’
Elena turned to look at him, and now he could see that her eyes were narrowed with suspicion.
‘Are you lying to me?’
Alone with him in the cold and dark, she seemed suddenly tense with fear.
Bjartur halted. There was hardly a breath of wind, and the murmur of the waves was mesmerizing. He studied her. She couldn’t escape now.
‘Are you lying? Why are you lying?’ Her voice rose, sounding high and strained: ‘Where’s Katja?’