Meltwater (Fire and Ice)

entirely.
    They still had a long way to go.
    His phone rang. ‘Magnús,’ he snapped.
    ‘Where the hell are you?’ It was Ollie, his brother. ‘I’ve been at the airport for an hour waiting for you. What’s the story?’
    ‘Hell, Ollie, I’m sorry,’ said Magnus. ‘I’ve been caught up in a case. I meant to send you an SMS and I forgot.’
    ‘Some things never change.’
    ‘Yeah. Look, I really am sorry. I can’t meet up with you until this evening. Get a cab into town and come to my apartment.’
    ‘A cab? How much will that cost?’
    ‘Yeah, you’re right. You can get a bus right outside the terminal. You’ve got my address, right?’
    ‘Nigelsgate?’
    ‘Something like that. When you get there, Katrín will let you in.’
    ‘Katrín?’
    ‘Yes. She’s my landlady. You’ll like her.’
    ‘Does she speak English?’
    ‘Don’t you remember any Icelandic?’
    ‘No. You know that.’ Ollie had worked hard over the years to blank out his Icelandic past: he was all American now.
    ‘Yes, she does speak English. See you later. And I am sorry.’
    Magnus hung up with the feeling of guilt so familiar after any conversation with his brother. He quickly called Katrín, Árni’s sister, from whom he rented his room.
Fortunately she was at home, and even more fortunately she was happy to stay home to let Ollie in.
    Then he rang Ingileif.
    ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘How’s the case going?’
    ‘Just went up to Eyjafjallajökull,’ Magnus said.
    ‘Wow. Did you see the eruption?’
    ‘Too cloudy. But I caught a couple of jökulhlaup .’
    ‘A couple?’
    ‘I’ll tell you later.’
    ‘At lunch, I hope?’
    ‘Sorry. I can’t make that – too much to do on the case.’
    ‘That’s a shame, but never mind.’
    ‘Ollie has arrived in Iceland. Do you want to meet us for dinner tonight?’
    ‘I’m having dinner at Rakel’s house. Anna Kristín is coming.’ Magnus recognized the names but couldn’t remember who they were. ‘It’s kind of
business – I need some of Anna Kristín’s chairs for the gallery in Hamburg. I’ll see you later on tonight.’
    ‘I’m looking forward to it.’
    ‘So am I.’
    Magnus smiled as he hung up. He knew that Ingileif meant it, and he was really looking forward to seeing her later on.
    But it was all so matter-of-fact. He remembered Colby, his former girlfriend of several years in the States. She would have gone apeshit if he had stood her up for lunch after being apart for a
few months. Ingileif was a definite step forward from that.
    But then he had thought that his relationship with Ingileif was finished in November when she had gone off to Hamburg. It obviously wasn’t.
    Which was nice.
    Magnus drove straight to police headquarters to drop off the cigarette butt at the Forensics Unit. Edda promised to get a DNA analysis done as soon as possible, but Magnus knew it would take
days, possibly even a couple of weeks. The sample had to be sent to a lab in Sweden. Magnus didn’t understand why this was the case when Iceland had the most comprehensive genetic database of
its citizens in the world. The whole population’s DNA had been analysed and stored by a private company, who hoped to sell the results for research into genetic diseases. So the labs were
there, the database was there, the police just couldn’t access them.
    He had asked whether the analysis could pick up any Jewish or Italian matches in the DNA. Edda said she would ask for a detailed haplogroup breakdown, which should be a good guide to the origin
of the subject’s ancestors. Magnus took her word for it. Waiting for DNA results was a feeling familiar from his days at the Boston PD.
    Back at the station, Árni, Vigdís and the other detectives were ploughing through Israeli and Italian citizens in Iceland. There were only a handful of Israelis, mostly tourists,
so that wasn’t too difficult, although Vigdís pointed out that when Mossad agents had assassinated someone in Dubai the previous January, they had used passports from Britain, Ireland,
Germany and France. Italians were a different problem. According to the Italian consulate, there were 158 permanent residents with Italian citizenship in Iceland, including the father of the famous
Icelandic singer Emilíana Torrini; he ran a restaurant in Laugavegur. Then there were temporary workers including engineers and other technical staff, plus all the tourists. Although April
was not a big month for tourism in Iceland, the