Meltwater (Fire and Ice)

way that Icelandic law worked as far as Magnus understood it. He had
seen it in action many times before over the last year. For all their relative leniency with convicted criminals, suspects had fewer rights than in the US.
    ‘In this case you would have to be very careful before you do that,’ said Rannveig.
    ‘You’re probably right,’ Magnus conceded. ‘We need to see Baldur.’
    ‘Here he is,’ said Vigdís.
    Inspector Baldur Jakobsson strode into the conference room. A tall, bald man, with a bit of a stoop and a long lugubrious face, he did not seem happy to see Magnus. He took a seat at the
conference table.
    ‘I wanted to talk to you,’ said Magnus.
    ‘Good. Because I wanted to talk to you,’ said Baldur. ‘That was a right mess of things you made last night. It never makes sense to assault politicians.’
    ‘Árni was provoked,’ said Magnus.
    ‘You shouldn’t have let the situation get out of hand,’ said Baldur. ‘None of you should. Tell me about the crime scene.’
    Magnus told the inspector about the lack of likely clues, given the fresh snow.
    When he had finished, Baldur nodded. ‘Well, let’s hope the forensics people find something. Now, I’m sorry, I know you have been driving around all night, but I want you back
in Hvolsvöllur. We need someone there to liaise with the local police on the ground.’
    ‘Hey, hold on right there,’ said Magnus. ‘The key information we need is in Reykjavík in that house on Thórsgata. I’m waiting for Rannveig to come up with
the warrant. And I want to interview them again. Especially Erika and Franz, the kid who was by himself on the volcano for a while.’
    ‘I can do that with Vigdís and Árni,’ said Baldur.
    ‘But I’m in charge of this investigation!’ said Magnus.
    ‘No you’re not,’ said Baldur, one corner of his thin lips twitching upwards. ‘I am.’
    ‘But you don’t speak English!’ protested Magnus. ‘The witnesses are foreigners, or at least most of them are. I need to talk to them.’
    ‘I speak reasonable English,’ said Baldur. ‘And Árni can help me. Look, if you get bored in the police station you can go back to the crime scene, see what you can do to
help there.’
    ‘I’m sure Edda could use the help,’ Árni said with a wink. Everyone around the table ignored him.
    Róbert, one of the other detectives in the unit, put his head around the door. ‘The Big Salmon has been on the phone. He wants to see you in his office, Magnús.
Now.’
    The twitch on Baldur’s lips spread to both sides. Magnus sighed and stood up. He wanted to focus on who had killed Nico and why, not on defending himself and his detectives. He was tired
and he was getting grumpy.
    The National Police Commissioner’s office was close to police headquarters, on the other side of a busy junction. It was in a modern building with a great view over the
bay. Magnus could see Mount Esja basking in the sunshine and, way over to the north-west, the white cap of the Snaefells Glacier floating above the sea.
    The Commissioner, Snorri Gudmundsson, was an energetic man in his late fifties, short with thick grey hair brushed back in a Soviet-style bouffant. Magnus had a lot of time for him. It was he,
after all, who had requested Magnus’s presence in Iceland. Although Magnus had had some successes over the last twelve months, they had not been trouble-free, and Snorri had stood by him. He
was perhaps too concerned with politics for Magnus’s tastes, but that’s what you expected from a police commissioner.
    As he entered the Commissioner’s office, Magnus prepared himself for the inevitable bawling out.
    The Commissioner looked stern. ‘I’ve had Viktor Símonarson on the phone,’ he began.
    ‘I guessed as much,’ said Magnus.
    ‘He says Detective Árni assaulted him.’
    ‘Is he pressing charges?’
    ‘No. Is it true?’
    ‘Partly.’
    ‘Tell me what happened.’
    And so Magnus did. The Commissioner listened closely, wincing at the word ‘nigger’ .
    ‘Magnús, you let things get out of hand. Viktor is a troublemaker, but an extremely well-connected troublemaker. He has many friends in the government.’
    ‘Yeah, I figured that,’ said Magnus.
    ‘We are going to have to launch a disciplinary inquiry into Árni’s actions.’
    ‘I don’t think you should do that, Snorri.’
    Magnus would much rather call the Big Salmon ‘Commissioner’ or, at the very least, ‘sir’: the Icelandic custom of using first