House of Evidence(93)
Diary XVII
June 3, 1940. Elizabeth and I went for a meeting with the British military command to offer the services of my engineering firm. We were very well received. The general thought initially that I was an American who had settled in Iceland, as my English is so good. They will be contacting us on Wednesday…
June 5, 1940. I was called to a meeting with Mr. Sullivan, who is head of the British forces engineering unit. He wants me to take charge of surveying for an airfield at Vatnsmýri.
June 23, 1940. Mr. Sullivan and Mr. Freeman accepted our offer to come and dine with us at Birkihlíd. They are both well-qualified engineers of good families, and are notably polite. They were very grateful for such a feast after the constraints of military camp life. I showed them the railway designs, and they thought it quite possible that the military command would want to have the railroad built in order to facilitate military transport round Iceland…
November 3, 1940. Woke up to sustained gunfire directed at a German reconnaissance aircraft that flew over the town. It escaped to the west…
Jóhann had woken unusually early that morning, but instead of heading directly to work he went for a swim in the Vesturbær pool. He had been in the office the previous day when the news came of Matthías’s death, and had witnessed the ensuing chaos. Everyone had concentrated on covering the matter up and very little had been done to work out what had actually happened. This distressed Jóhann, and he was not keen to go in to work at all. He swam slowly back and forth for thirty minutes, and then sat in the hot tub for another half hour.
The weather was lovely—no wind, a cloudless sky, and frost. The sun hung low in the sky, and its rays shone through the steam rising from the pool.
Two old guys sat in the hot tub with him, talking about the weather.
Days such as this reminded Jóhann of his childhood home in the north, and usually made him feel happy, but today he was not thinking about home. Something was bothering him. He knew things were not as they should be. It wasn’t just Matthías’s death; there was something else. He didn’t know what it was, but feared it would soon become clear.
He had a shower and shaved carefully. He took his time getting dressed, but as he was putting on his shoes, it occurred to him that Hrefna had probably not heard about Matthías’s death yet. She would turn up at the office at eleven o’clock, and he did not trust anyone but himself to tell her the news.
Diary XVII
March 25, 1941. I have asked the authorities to try and find out about the fate of my brother Matthías. Not a day, an hour, a minute passes without my thinking about him. I blame myself completely for what has happened to him. He had planned to move to America but I asked him to stay on in Germany because of the railroad company. Perhaps I should use my connections in the British military command. They might have the means to get some information about people imprisoned by the Germans…
April 6, 1941. There is a rumor going round that the Germans are planning to blast the town to bits. I have found no grounds for this rumor, but am telling everyone in the household to be on the lookout…Mr. Freeman is worried about the drawings of the oil depot that I keep in my office. He says it would be terrible if the Germans were to get hold of this information. An aircraft carrying a single bomb that hits the exact spot could destroy the whole depot. I tried to calm him down; I have great faith in my employees and I do not believe that there are spies in town working for the Germans. He asked me to accept a revolver for safety’s sake. I told him that I was well armed, with a rifle and a shotgun, and that I could defend the house with those weapons if necessary. He thought that the revolver was a more suitable weapon, and I consented to accept it. It is a Smith & Wesson 38/200 officer’s revolver, and comes with a plentiful supply of ammunition. I shall have to practice shooting with it when I get the opportunity…
Halldór arrived at the hospital and headed straight for the laboratory. He was shown into a brightly lit room smelling strongly of antiseptics. In the center of the floor stood a long table on which a large corpse lay under a green sheet; over it shone an adjustable light, and next to the table was a cart with various pieces of equipment, assorted containers, and a selection of knives and forceps.
“Have you found the cause of death?” Halldór asked Fridrik, who was standing by the body.
“No, that was not why I called,” Fridrik said, adding, “I haven’t started the autopsy yet.”
Halldór sensed that the pathologist was disturbed about something, and waited silently for him to continue. Putting on rubber gloves, Fridrik said, “Before you begin to dissect you have to examine the surface of the body carefully, looking for injuries.”