that there's a man under the floor here? You've got nothing to go on. Absolutely nothing except some crap about house foundations and a smell. Have you gone mad?"
Sigurdur Òli walked hesitantly over to them.
"There's a woman here I think you ought to talk to, Erlendur," he said, holding out the phone which Erlendur had left behind in the car. "It's personal. She's quite worked up."
Hrolfur turned to Sigurdur Òli and told him to piss off and leave them alone.
Sigurdur Òli didn't give way.
"You ought to talk to her immediately, Erlendur," he said.
"What's the meaning of this? You act as if I don't exist!" Hrolfur shouted, stamping his foot. "Is this a bloody conspiracy? Erlendur, if we're going to smash up the foundations of people's houses because they smell, we'll end up never doing anything else. It's totally absurd! It's ridiculous."
"Marion Briem had this interesting idea," Erlendur said as calmly as before, "and I thought it was worth investigating. The police commissioner thought so too. Do excuse me for not contacting you, but I'm pleased to see you're back on your feet. and I really must say, Hrolfur, that you're looking exceptionally perky. Please excuse me."
Erlendur walked past Hrolfur, who stared at him and Sigurdur Òli, ready to say something, but not knowing what it ought to be.
"One thing occurred to me," Erlendur said. "I should have done it ages ago."
"What?" Sigurdur Òli said.
"Contact the Harbour and Lighthouse Authority and find out if they can tell whether Holberg was in Húsavík or thereabouts in the early '60s."
"Okay. Here, talk to this woman."
"Which woman?" Erlendur said and took the phone. "I don't know any woman."
"They put her through to your mobile. She'd been asking for you at the office. They told her you were busy, but she wouldn't take no for an answer."
At that moment the pneumatic drill on the tractor started up. A deafening noise came from the basement and they saw a thick cloud of dust billowing out. The police had covered all the windows so no-one could see inside. Everyone apart from the drill operator had gone outside and they all stood at a distance, waiting. They looked at their watches and seemed to be discussing how late it was. They knew they couldn't go on making that noise all evening in the middle of a residential area. They'd have to stop soon and continue the next morning or take other action.
Erlendur hurried into the car with his phone and closed the door on the noise. He recognised the voice immediately.
"He's here," Elín said, as soon as she heard Erlendur's voice on the phone. She seemed very agitated.
"Relax, Elín," Erlendur said. "Who are you talking about?"
"He's standing in front of the house in the rain, staring in at me." Her voice turned to a whisper.
"Who, Eliín? Are you at home? In Keflavík?"
"I don't know when he came, I don't know how long he's been standing there. I just noticed him. They wouldn't put me through to you."
"I don't quite follow. Who are you talking about, Elín?"
"The man of course. It's that beast. I'm sure of it."
"Who?"
"That brute who attacked Kolbrún!"
"Kolbrún? What are you talking about?"
"I know. It can't be, but he's standing here all the same."
"Aren't you getting things mixed up?"
"Don't say I'm getting anything mixed up. Don't say that! I know exactly what I'm saying."
"Which man who attacked Kolbrún?"
"Well, HOLBERG!" Instead of raising her voice, Elín hissed down the phone. "He's standing outside my house!"
Erlendur said nothing.
"Are you there?" Elín whispered. "What are you going to do?"
"Elín," Erlendur said emphatically. "It can't be Holberg. Holberg's dead. It must be someone else."
"Don't talk to me like I'm a baby. He's standing out here in the rain, staring at me. That beast."
28
The connection broke off and Erlendur started the engine. Sigurdur Òli and Elínborg watched him reverse through the crowd and disappear off down the street. They looked at each other and shrugged as if they'd given up trying to figure him out ages ago.
Before he was even out of the street he had already contacted the Keflavík police and sent them off to Elín's house to apprehend a man in the vicinity who was wearing a blue anorak, jeans and white trainers. Elín had described the man. He told the sergeant not to switch on the sirens or flashing lights, but to approach as quietly as possible so as not to scare him off.
"Stupid old bag," Erlendur said to himself and hung up his phone.
He drove out of