The Darkness Knows

56

The man wasn’t home. As agreed, Konrád had informed the local police of his arrival, and a squad car had accompanied him to the address. The house was in a residential street on the west bank of the River Ölfusá, above the old bridge. When no one answered the door, Konrád followed a hunch and wandered down to the river, where he spotted a figure sitting with his back to them, his legs dangling over the steep, rocky bank, and thought he looked familiar. Turning, Konrád signalled to the uniformed officers that he was going down there alone. They nodded.

There were small birch trees growing close to the water’s edge and a carpet of moss that extended to the rocky outcrop where the man was sitting. A short way off was the semicircular shape of a Second World War Nissen hut, roofed with grass, its grey-painted front facing onto the river. But most picturesque of all was the sheer rocky islet that rose out of the milky water a stone’s throw from the bank, as if trying to withstand the destructive power of the torrent. It was capped with grass and at the very end perched a lone fir tree, looking as if it might topple into the flood at any minute.

The man on the bank heard Konrád approaching and turned his head.

‘You’ve come then?’ he said, as if he’d been expecting him for a long time.

‘Hello, Lúkas,’ Konrád replied, approaching him warily. ‘This is a beautiful spot.’

‘It’s not bad having the river right on your doorstep like this,’ Lúkas said. He was inadequately dressed for the chilly weather, his jaw was covered in several days’ worth of stubble and he had entrenched dark circles under his eyes. Below his feet the Ölfusá surged and boiled.

‘Do you mind if I join you?’ Konrád asked.

‘Be my guest,’ Lúkas said. ‘I can sit here for hours, watching the river.’

‘I’m not surprised.’

‘I discovered this spot after I moved to Selfoss, and I come here from time to time to enjoy the view and just savour the feeling of being here. Of course you have to be careful and know what you’re doing. To be honest, I’ve always been shit-scared of the river. It has a strangely magnetic power that draws you to it. You have to respect that.’

‘It’s powerful, all right,’ Konrád replied.

‘I’ve been expecting you, to tell the truth.’

‘For quite a long while, I would guess,’ Konrád said.

‘Yes, of course. For years — decades, in fact. I see you’re not alone this time.’ Lúkas glanced round at the police officers, who were hanging back at a discreet distance.

‘No. I’m not alone.’

Konrád watched the grey waters of the glacial river churning against the rocks as they had for countless millennia, long before humans ever set foot in this place. The turbulence was accompanied by a deep-throated roar, as one would expect from the largest river in the country. Konrád could feel what Lúkas meant about its magnetic force.

‘Why did Sigurvin have to —?’

‘Stupidity,’ Lúkas cut in, as if reluctant to hear the rest of the sentence. ‘Inexperience. Foolishness. But mostly stupidity. Goddamn, fucking stupidity.’

‘Bernhard’s dead,’ Konrád said.

Lúkas stared out over the river to where its banks narrowed above the bridge. ‘Dead?’ he exclaimed belatedly, turning to look at Konrád. ‘How...?’

‘He hanged himself. In his workshop.’

‘Oh no... Poor Benni.’ Lúkas groaned. ‘He’s... It’s never going to end... There’s no end to it...’

‘He’d had enough,’ Konrád said.

‘So fucking stupid,’ Lúkas swore again.

They were both silent.

‘Did he say anything?’ Lúkas asked after a while.

‘He directed me here,’ Konrád said.

Again they were silent.

‘Do you... do you mind if we sit here by the river for a bit?’ Lúkas asked.

‘We’ve got a few minutes. Do you want to tell me about it? What happened? And why?’

Lúkas didn’t reply.

‘Lúkas?’

‘Yes, sorry, where... where should I begin?’

‘Maybe you could begin by telling me about Villi.’

‘Villi?’

‘The young man at the sports bar. Was it Bernhard who knocked him down?’

‘Was he called Villi?’

‘His name was Vilmar and he had a sister who wants to know how he came to die.’

‘Bernhard bumped into him when he went out to watch the football. He immediately started getting jittery because he’d never got over what we’d done. He said the young man had recognised him. He rang me in the middle of the night, panicking that the guy was going to go to the police. I told him to calm down and take it easy. But Bernhard was in a state. He said he’d told the guy his name. He was drinking heavily in those days. It had got out of hand and he couldn’t control it any more. He’d become a nervous wreck, constantly frightened and paranoid.’

‘Because of Sigurvin?’

‘Yes. The whole thing affected him very badly and he just got worse and worse over the years.’

‘He must have remembered the boy he encountered by the hot-water tanks.’