Where the Shadows Lie (Fire and Ice)

superintendent’s desk so that both Thorkell and his visitors could see them. A couple of primitive paintings, probably by the same kids, hung on the wall.
    Thorkell sat down in his big leather desk chair and smiled. ‘Welcome to Reykjavík,’ he said.
    At least he, like Árni, seemed friendly. Magnus couldn’t see any physical similarity between them, but they shared the same last name, Holm, and so they were probably related. A small minority of Icelanders used the same family naming system as the rest of the world. They were often from wealthier families, descendants of young Icelanders who had travelled abroad to Denmark to study and given themselves family names while they were there.
    But then all Icelanders were related. The society was more of a gene puddle than a gene pool.
    ‘Thank you,’ Magnus replied.
    ‘You will be part of the National Police Commissioner’s staff, but when you are not at the Police College you will have a desk here, with us. I very much support the Commissioner’s initiative in requesting you, and I think you will be a great help to us in the current investigation.’
    ‘I hope so.’
    Thorkell hesitated. ‘Inspector Baldur is an excellent detective, and very successful. He likes to use tried and tested techniques that work in Iceland. It boils down to the fact that in such a small country someone always knows someone who knows the criminal. But as the nature of crime changes in this country, so must the methods of fighting it, which is why you are here. Flexibility is perhaps not Baldur’s strong point. But don’t be afraid to voice your opinion. We want to hear it, you will have my assurance of that.’
    Magnus smiled. ‘I understand.’
    ‘Good. Now, someone from the Commissioner’s office will be in touch with you this morning about salary and accommodation and so on. In the meantime, Árni will set you up with a desk, a phone and a computer. Do you have any questions?’
    ‘Yes, one. Can I carry a gun?’
    ‘No,’ said Thorkell. ‘Absolutely not.’
    ‘I’m not used to being on duty without one,’ Magnus said.
    ‘Then you will become used to it.’
    They stared at each other for a moment. A cop needed a badge and a gun, as far as Magnus was concerned. He appreciated the difficulties with the badge. But he needed the gun.
    ‘How do I get a licence to carry?’
    ‘You don’t. No one has guns in Iceland, or not hand guns. They have been banned since 1968, after a man was shot dead.’
    ‘You’re telling me there are no police officers with firearms training?’
    Thorkell sighed. ‘We do have some firearms officers in the Viking Squad – it’s what we call our SWAT team. You may be able to practise on the indoor range at Kópavogur, but we cannot permit you to carry a weapon outside it. That’s just not the way we do things here.’
    Magnus was tempted to say something about flexibility and voicing his opinion, but he appreciated the chief superintendent’s support and didn’t want to antagonize him needlessly, so he just thanked him again and left.
    Árni was waiting outside. He led Magnus to an office stuffed with small screened-in cubicles, with the sign Violent Crimes on the door. Two or three of the detectives that Magnus had seen at the meeting were on the phones or their computers, the others were already out interviewing people. Magnus’s desk was right opposite Árni’s. The phone worked, and Árni assured him that someone from the IT department would set him up with a password that morning.
    Árni disappeared to the coffee machine and returned with two cups. The boy had promise.
    Magnus sipped his coffee and considered Agnar. He didn’t yet know much about the professor, but he did know that he was someone’s husband, the father of two children. Magnus thought of those kids growing up with the knowledge that their father had been murdered, of the devastated wife struggling to come to terms with the destruction of her family. They needed to know who had killed Agnar and why, and they needed to know that the murderer had been punished. Otherwise – well, otherwise they would end up like Magnus.
    The familiar urge returned. Even though Magnus had not yet met them, might never even meet them, he could promise them one thing: he would find Agnar’s killer.
    ‘Have you decided where you are going to stay in Reykjavík?’ Árni asked, sipping from his own cup.
    ‘No, not really,’ Magnus replied. ‘The hotel’s OK, I guess.’
    ‘But