The Darkness Knows

‘Who?’

‘Hjaltalín. He took a turn for the worse when he was brought here.’

‘No, I wasn’t aware of that. What’s wrong with him?’

‘He’s just finished a course of chemo for throat cancer, so his arrest’s being reviewed on humanitarian grounds as well. He’s been in bed since he got here and has to be careful not to overdo it. He asked if he could talk to you in his cell to avoid having to sit up in the interview room. We’ve given him a dispensation. I thought Marta and co. would have told you about that.’

‘No,’ Konrád said. ‘They didn’t. Is it serious, then? Is he going to pull through?’

‘That’s anybody’s guess.’

At the door to the custody wing, a prison officer took over and showed Konrád to Hjaltalín’s cell. Two detectives were there to keep on eye on things but they remained outside in the corridor. There was no sign of Hjaltalín’s lawyer. The official story was that Konrád had been brought in temporarily to work on the investigation, but news of his meeting with Hjaltalín wasn’t supposed to get out.

The officer opened the door to the cell, ushered Konrád in, then closed it carefully behind him. His footsteps receded down the corridor.

Hjaltalín was lying on a narrow sleeping platform that was fixed to the floor along one wall. Apart from that, the cell contained only a chair, a small desk, a sink and a toilet. White light filtered through a barred window above the bed. There was a Bible on the desk and a faint whiff of disinfectant in the air.

‘I heard about your illness,’ Konrád said. ‘They shouldn’t have banged you up.’

Hjaltalín smiled. He didn’t sit up but remained lying flat on his back with one arm behind his head, regarding Konrád with half-closed eyes, as if he wasn’t particularly interested in his visit. Yet he had requested it, or rather insisted on it. They hadn’t seen each other for decades, except on one occasion that Konrád would sooner forget. It took him a moment or two to assimilate the changes. Hjaltalín had aged and lost an awful lot of weight — as a result of the cancer, Konrád assumed. The treatment had caused his hair to fall out, accentuating the long, narrow face with its prominent blue eyes and colourless skin. His skull was almost snow-white. It was as if he had morphed into an ageing albino.

‘They don’t care,’ Hjaltalín whispered hoarsely. ‘You look well.’

‘They thought you were trying to do a runner.’

‘Are they recording this? Our conversation?’

‘No,’ Konrád said. ‘Not as far as I’m aware.’ He pulled the chair over and sat down. The Bible, which belonged to the prison, was much thumbed, with a broken spine and worn covers.

‘I knew they’d come for me,’ Hjaltalín whispered. ‘I was going to take myself off.’

‘To Thailand, I hear.’

‘Wonderful place.’ Hjaltalín stared up at the ceiling. ‘I didn’t want to end up in a cell like this again.’

‘I don’t think they’re listening but they’ll ask me afterwards what you told me. I gather you won’t talk to anyone, not even your lawyer.’

‘The moment I heard who they’d found — that it was Sigurvin — I drove to the airport and bought a ticket to Thailand via London. But they reacted pretty fast. I’d already boarded the plane. Did you know that?’

‘No.’

‘They thought I was running away because I was guilty,’ Hjaltalín went on in a thin, rasping voice. ‘That if I wasn’t guilty, I’d never have tried it. But I was running away because I’m innocent. Running away from this. This cell. All this bullshit. I wanted to die in peace. That’s... all.’

‘You told the police it was a coincidence that you were heading to Thailand just after Sigurvin had turned up. Does that sound plausible to you?’

Hjaltalín closed his eyes. ‘I’m not lying to you, Konrád. I’ve never lied to you about this business.’

‘Yeah, right.’

The police handling the original investigation had discovered that Hjaltalín found it extraordinarily easy to twist the truth; so much so that he was almost a pathological liar. Time and again he had pulled the wool over their eyes, only to be caught out in a lie. He had frequently implied one thing, only to contradict himself by stating the exact opposite shortly afterwards. Instead of regarding lies as a serious matter, he had used them to delay and obfuscate the inquiry into Sigurvin’s disappearance.

‘I’m sorry you’re so ill,’ Konrád said.

‘Thank you.’

‘Did it seem like a wise idea to drag yourself all the way to Asia, given the state you’re in?’

‘I was going to look into alternative cures over there. I’d found a doctor who... But of course, you don’t believe me, do you?’

‘Why did you want to see me?’

‘You understand me.’

‘I’m not... I don’t think anyone can understand...’

‘Have you any idea what it’s like, Konrád, to be locked up like this in my condition?’ Hjaltalín opened his eyes again. ‘Can you even begin to imagine what it’s like?’