Tainted Blood - By Arnaldur Indridason Page 0,65

a man who probably has nothing to do with the case," Sigurdur Óli said.

"Maybe Grétar isn't under the foundations here," Elínborg said.

"How come?" Erlendur said.

"Maybe he's still alive, you mean?" Sigurdur Óli said.

"He knew all about Holberg, I'd imagine," Elínborg said. "He knew about the daughter, other-wise he wouldn't have taken a photograph of her grave. He definitely knew how she came into the world. If Holberg had another child, a son, he would have known about him too."

Erlendur and Sigurdur Óli looked at her with growing interest.

"Maybe Grétar's still with us," she continued, "and in touch with the son. That's one explanation for how the son could know about Elín and Audur."

"But Grétar went missing a good 25 years ago and hasn't been heard of since," Sigurdur Óli said.

"Just because he went missing doesn't necessarily mean he's dead," Elínborg said.

"So that ..." Erlendur began, but Elínborg interrupted him.

"I don't think we can rule him out. Why not allow for the possibility that Grétar is still alive? No body was ever found. He could have left the country. It could have been enough for him to move to the countryside. No-one gave a damn. No-one missed him."

"I don't remember any instance of that," Erlendur said.

"Of what?" Sigurdur Óli asked.

"A missing person returning a whole generation later. When people disappear in Iceland it's always for good. No-one ever comes back after an absence of more than 25 years. Never."

31

Erlendur left his colleagues in Nordurmýri and went up to Barónsstígur to meet the pathologist. The pathologist was completing his autopsy on Holberg and was covering up the body when Erlendur went up to him. Audur's body was nowhere to be seen.

"Have you found the girl's brain?" the pathologist asked straight out when Erlendur walked in on him.

"No," Erlendur said.

"I talked to a professor, an old girlfriend of mine from the university, and explained it to her, I hope that was all right, and she wasn't surprised about our little discovery. That short story by Halldór Laxness, have you read it?"

"The one about Nebuchadnezzar? It has crossed my mind in the past couple of days," Erlendur said.

"Isn't it called 'Lily', that story? It's a long time since I read it, but it's about some medical students who snatch a body and put rocks in the coffin, and basically that's what happens. No-one kept any real tabs on that in the old days, just as the story describes. People who died in hospital had autopsies unless it was forbidden and of course the autopsy was used for teaching purposes. Sometimes samples were removed and they could be anything really, from whole organs to minor tissue samples. Then everything was wrapped up and the person in question was given a decent burial. These days it's rather different. An autopsy is performed only if the relatives give their consent and organs are removed for research and teaching purposes only if certain conditions are met. I don't think anything is stolen nowadays."

"You don't think so?"

The pathologist shrugged.

"We're not talking about organ transplants, are we?" Erlendur said.

"A completely different matter. People are generally prepared to help others if it's a question of life and death."

"And where's the organ bank?"

"There are thousands of samples in this building alone," the pathologist said. "Here on Barónsstégur. The largest part of it is the Dungal collection, which is the largest bio-sample bank in Iceland."

"Could you show it to me?" Erlendur asked. "Is there a register of where the samples come from?"

"It's all carefully documented. I took the liberty of checking for our sample but I couldn't find it."

"Where is it then?"

"You ought to talk to the professor and hear what she has to say. I think there are some registers up at the university."

"Why didn't you tell me this straightaway?" Erlendur asked. "When you discovered the brain had been removed? You knew about it?"

"Talk to her and come back. I've probably told you far too much already."

"Are the registers for the collection in the university?"

"As far as I know," the pathologist said, gave him the professor's name and told him to let him get on with his work.

"So you know about Jar City then," Erlendur said.

"They used to call one room here Jar City," the pathologist said. "It's closed now. Don't ask me what happened to the jars, I haven't got the faintest idea."

"Do you find this uncomfortable to talk about?"

"Will you stop this."

"What?"

"Stop it."

The professor, Hanna, who was head of the University of Iceland's Faculty of Medicine, stared across the desk