Meltwater (Fire and Ice)

firearm himself. I tell you what. You are all looking a bit pale. You need exercise.’
    ‘What are you talking about?’ said Erika.
    ‘You should try softball. I can bring you over a couple of baseball bats. And a ball of course.’
    ‘Do you really think that will make a difference?’
    ‘I’ve worked the homicide beat in Boston, and I can tell you a baseball bat applied with maximum force to a skull makes a big difference.’
    Erika smiled. ‘Thanks.’ She leaned back. ‘Any luck with the guy who is after me?’
    ‘No,’ said Magnus. ‘But we’re looking hard. We think he might have been on the same plane as Nico coming into Iceland on Sunday. Nico didn’t mention bumping into
anyone he recognized, did he?’
    Erika shook her head. ‘No. I’m pretty sure he didn’t.’
    Magnus paused, sipping his coffee, letting the mood turn serious.
    Erika picked it up. ‘What is it?’
    ‘I’ve got some bad news about Nico.’
    ‘He’s dead. How can there be worse news?’
    ‘He’s a plant. Or he was. He was working for Roberto Tretto. The politician in the Gruppo Cavour scandal.’
    What little colour there was in Erika’s face drained away. ‘No,’ she said, her face crumpling in anguish. She shook her head. ‘No. That can’t be true.’
    ‘Teresa told us this morning. About a year ago he was approached by a friend from college who works for Tretto. Until then he had shown no interest in Freeflow. Afterward he became
obsessed.’
    ‘I can’t believe it. Teresa’s lying.’
    ‘I don’t think she is,’ said Magnus. He had considered holding back the information about Nico from Erika, but she was a victim not a suspect, and he needed to provoke leads
any way he could. ‘There was no indication at all that he worked for Tretto?’
    Erika shook her head. ‘No, of course not.’
    ‘Or that he was planning to tell you something? Something important?’
    ‘No. None.’
    ‘You see, we don’t know why, if he was working for Tretto, Tretto would want him killed. Or whichever crime boss in Italy is in this with Tretto – I assume the minister keeps
his distance from those details.’
    ‘I see that. But to be honest, Magnus, I can’t think straight at the moment,’ Erika said. ‘It’s a lot to take in.’ Colour returned to her cheeks under the
bandage. Anger. ‘If it’s true . . . the bastard! He deceived me. He totally deceived me.’
    ‘Totally,’ Magnus said. ‘I’ll talk to you this afternoon. When you have had a chance to digest this.’
    He left Erika staring blankly at her computer screen, and the rest of the Freeflow team staring at her.
    Magnus was just getting into his car on Thórsgata when his phone rang.
    ‘Magnús.’
    ‘Hi, it’s me.’
    Magnus smiled as he recognized Ingileif’s voice. ‘Oh, hi.’
    ‘Where are you?’
    ‘Just by the Hallgrímskirkja,’ Magnus said. ‘Thórsgata.’
    ‘Well, I’m just outside the gallery in Skólavördustígur. Do you want a quick coffee?’
    Magnus winced. ‘I’d love to. But I’m not sure I’ve got time.’
    ‘Oh, come on. We can’t just meet in the middle of the night, like a pair of vampires.’
    ‘Or trolls.’
    ‘You be the troll, I’ll be the vampire.’
    ‘Romantic,’ Magnus said. ‘All right. I’ll be there in five minutes. Mokka?’
    ‘See you there.’
    Mokka was just down the hill from the gallery Ingileif used to own with a group of five other artists. It was a cosy place with leather benches, wood-panelled walls and a smell of waffles. It
was the first Italian-style coffee house in Reykjavík, notable for the paintings on the walls, which changed monthly. Many of the artists were friends of Ingileif.
    She was waiting for him, reading an Icelandic style magazine. Her face lit up when she saw him: it made Magnus’s day.
    She kissed him quickly on the lips. ‘You know if you’d only let me solve your cases for you, you’d have plenty of time for cups of coffee during the day,’ she said.
‘In fact, I was wondering . . . You’ve had a tiring morning, you look as if you need a lie-down.’ Her eyes were twinkling.
    ‘Do you mean what I think you mean?’ Magnus said.
    ‘Of course I do.’
    Magnus grinned. ‘I’d love to, but I’ve got an appointment at lunchtime.’
    ‘It wouldn’t take long,’ Ingileif said. ‘You never take long.’
    ‘That’s not true!’
    Ingileif smiled. ‘OK. So where are you having lunch?’
    ‘At the Culture House.’
    ‘Oh. Well, say hello to my