Meltwater (Fire and Ice)

at Faktory, the bar that had taken over the site of the good old Grand Rokk. But he felt guilty
that he hadn’t seen his brother since the previous lunchtime at the Culture House. He pulled out a pen and scribbled: Sorry, long frustrating day and I’m beat. See you tomorrow
morning. M.
    But as he wrote it, Magnus knew he wouldn’t. He would be up early to go into the police station, and Ollie would be tucked up with Katrín. Ollie was supposed to be going back to the
States on Sunday, volcano permitting. Magnus would have to find a way to spend time with him before then.
    He went up to his room, pulled out a half-full bottle of J&B and poured himself a drink. He thought about what Vigdís had said about Ingileif. She was right. She was dead right. He
should tell Ingileif what he thought of their relationship, what he expected of her.
    He pulled out his phone and dialled her number. She didn’t pick up.
    Of course she didn’t. Good thing really, his thoughts weren’t coherent enough to have a serious conversation with her.
    He flopped back on his bed and stared at his wall. He had more to add to it after his conversation with Jóhannes Benediktsson the day before. More importantly, he needed to speak to the
Commissioner about the similarities between Benedikt’s case and his own father’s death. But that would have to wait. Both he and the Commissioner had a busy few days ahead of them, what
with Freeflow and the Church of Iceland.
    He undressed and crawled into bed. It had been good to talk to Vigdís. He liked her. Suddenly he was struck by a thought. What had she said? ‘ There are plenty of other women in
Iceland, you know? ’ Was she coming on to him?
    He smiled at the idea. She was cute. Very cute.
    He imagined what she would do if he brought her back to his room. How she’d take the wall.
    Actually, she would take it very well. She understood him, she wouldn’t be surprised, she wouldn’t ridicule him. In fact she would be right in front of it asking him questions,
shifting things around.
    His brain stopped whirling and he fell asleep, thinking of long black limbs.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
    Saturday 17 April 2010
    T HE OH-SO-FAMILIAR images shuffled in front of Erika’s eyes. She recognized every building, every vehicle, every
figure as it jumped and danced under the fire of the Israeli soldiers. She knew the Hebrew words as spoken by the Israelis, she knew their chuckles, she knew every comma and period of the
subtitles. Yet the video still moved her. The callousness of those doing the firing, the innocence of their victims, and in particular the bullets thudding into the body of Tamara Wilton, still
shocked her.
    The three minutes were up, the credits rolled and her screen went black.
    She sat back. It was good. It was very good. It was the best thing that Freeflow had done.
    The bastards in that helicopter would pay. Their superiors who tried to pretend that what she had seen had never happened would pay. And perhaps the next time that the soldiers of a civilized
nation decided to do something barbaric, they would think again.
    Perhaps. That was the best Freeflow could hope for.
    She leaned back. Everyone in the house was gathered around the computer. Their eyes switched from the screen to her.
    She closed her eyes. Opened them. And smiled.
    ‘We’re done,’ she said. Then she leaned forward and typed: okay apex we’re done.
    Franz and Dúddi whooped and gave each other high fives. Dieter grinned broadly. She leant over and hugged him. She hugged all of them.
    She glanced down at the words that had appeared on her screen.
    i’m not sure we are. i’m still not sure about the helicopter noise.
    She groaned and typed: enough, apex. just be quiet. and consider yourself hugged. Then she minimized the screen. ‘Well done, guys,’ she said. ‘That was really good work.
I’m proud of you. The whole world should be proud of all of us.’
    ‘And so they will,’ said Viktor. He had arrived at the house an hour or so before. He wanted to be there at the end.
    ‘And thanks for all your help, Viktor,’ Erika said.
    ‘The Modern Media Initiative didn’t work quite like it should,’ said Viktor. ‘Once it’s on the statute books later this year, things will be better.’
    ‘Given what happened to Nico, I’d say it was very useful in protecting us,’ said Erika. ‘Anywhere else we would have been shut down while the police trampled all over
us.’
    ‘Yeah,’ said Viktor. The