Meltwater (Fire and Ice)

because it screwed up their exclusive on Monday morning, but the Post could publish on Sunday, given the time difference.
    Erika: any luck with flights tomorrow, apex?
    Apex: no problems. with all the cancellations, icelandair’s reservation system is a mess, no one noticed that i was messing it up more. i got you booked on 2 flights from reykjavik to
glasgow. one at 1410, one at 1750. if you get on the first one, i’ll cancel the second.
    Erika: apparently one flight from iceland landed at glasgow airport this afternoon. there has to be a good chance for tomorrow.
    Apex: a chance but not a certainty. don’t forget cash to buy a train ticket from glasgow to london.
    Erika: thanks apex.
    She would ask Viktor for the cash for the train fare. Of course she would have no money at all when she finally arrived in London. But she would be OK. She always was.
    Once she got out of Iceland.
    With the end in sight, she stretched her stiff shoulders. ‘Hey, Dúddi!’ she called. ‘Is there any chance of stopping at the Blue Lagoon on the way to the airport
tomorrow?’
    Ollie checked his map. He was down by the Old Harbour in the centre of town. Bárugata seemed to be up the hill somewhere.
    The houses in this part of town were nice, more solid-looking than the tin-roofed shacks around where Magnus lived. He checked the painted numbers for the address Jóhannes had given him.
He found the house and stood outside it, hesitating.
    He took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.
    Jóhannes answered. He was wearing a tweed jacket and tie. It took him a moment to recognize Ollie. ‘Ah, it’s you,’ he said eventually. ‘The policeman’s
brother. How interesting that you’ve come. Would you like a cup of coffee?’
    Jóhannes led Ollie into a darkened living room. It was full of books, photographs and papers. It smelled of pipe smoke. It was years since Ollie had seen anyone smoking a pipe.
    ‘Do you mind?’ Jóhannes brandished the instrument in question.
    ‘No. Go right ahead,’ said Ollie.
    ‘Your brother isn’t with you?’
    ‘No,’ said Ollie. ‘In fact he doesn’t know I’m here.’
    The white eyebrows rose. ‘Really?’ It made Ollie feel like a schoolkid who had almost broken a school rule but not quite.
    ‘Yeah. He’s out somewhere solving crimes, I guess.’
    ‘There was another murder this morning,’ Jóhannes said. ‘A young woman priest.’
    ‘Well, I’m sure Magnus is in on that,’ Ollie said. ‘You see, he and I view things differently.’
    ‘Things?’ said Jóhannes puffing at his pipe.
    It was odd. Jóhannes had slipped into his role of schoolteacher, with Ollie as his student. What was odd was that Ollie quite liked the feeling. This guy seemed to be listening to him, to
be on his side.
    ‘Yes,’ Ollie said. ‘Our father’s death had a big effect on the both of us. As did the time we spent with my grandfather at Bjarnarhöfn.’ Despite his years away
from the Icelandic language, Ollie pronounced the name of his grandfather’s farm perfectly, getting the hurp sound at the end just right. ‘We both had a miserable time there, and
I guess we both hate him.’
    ‘So far, so similar,’ Jóhannes said.
    ‘Right,’ said Ollie. ‘But Magnus being a cop, what he wants to do is get to the bottom of everything. Find out what happened. Pick over it. It’s as though he thinks if he
can solve the crime of my father’s murder then everything will be OK. Of course, it won’t. Things won’t be any different.’
    ‘I know how he feels,’ said Jóhannes. ‘I’m the same. Except I want to write it down, put my father’s life in a book. Explain his death. Understand it. And I
think it will help. But what about you?’
    ‘What about me?’ Ollie smiled and sipped his coffee. ‘I have spent my whole life wanting to blank it out, forget it, deny it, bury it. That’s where me and my brother
clash.’
    ‘I can see that.’
    ‘But, well, now I’m not so sure. Maybe I need to resolve things. But in my own way, not my brother’s way. Maybe your way too.’
    ‘I don’t follow.’
    Ollie hesitated. ‘You know this talk of a family feud. Your family against my family, Bjarnarhöfn against Hraun?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Well, I figure you and me are on the same side.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘I was listening to you closely yesterday. You said something like: “My father was a good man. I think he thought it was his duty to avenge the murder of his own