A Place To Bury Strangers Read online

  A Place To Bury Strangers

  This edition first published 2016 by Fahrenheit Press

  www.Fahrenheit-Press.com

  Copyright © Grant Nicol 2016

  The right of Grant Nicol to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  F 4 E

  A Place To Bury Strangers

  By

  Grant Nicol

  Fahrenheit Press

  The Lord will fight for you; you have only to be still.

  - Exodus 14:14

  CHAPTER ONE

  Friday 6th February

  Freezing cold water dripped from somewhere high overhead as Óli Þór crept through the deserted building site. It was silent at this time of night but during the day it was a hive of feverish and noisy activity. He knew this because most of the men who worked on the site were customers of his. All of them worked long hours but they liked to play as hard as they worked. The guy he’d talked to on the phone wasn’t one he knew personally but the size of the deal he’d proposed was too good to turn down. The boss was always on his back about keeping his sales up as high as he could and if he pulled this one off it would be his best month ever. That would keep him quiet for a while.

  Óli Þór wiped another giant drip off his forehead and checked his phone one more time. The hour was right and the place was right. All he needed now was for the buyer to show and he could get off to the pub where he belonged. A noise from the far side of the site distracted him from thoughts of Brennivín and cold beer for the moment. He was as sure as he could be that he was at the right place for the meet but it was possible he’d got it wrong. As usual he’d been a little stoned when he’d taken the call so anything was possible. He checked the time on his phone again and cursed his stupidity for not writing anything down. He thrust his hands into his pockets and set off across the thin layer of ice that covered the newly-laid concrete floor, lighting his way with his flickering flashlight with the dodgy old batteries in it as he went. He tripped on a brick and stubbed his toe through his cheap trainers. It was lucky that this deal was going to eclipse the business he’d done for the last two months in one fell swoop otherwise he would have already given up on this idiot and left. If he didn’t show soon Óli Þór would cut his losses and leave.

  ‘Where the hell are you?’ he mumbled to himself as he picked his path through the dark.

  He turned his head to find where the noise had come from. Then he heard it again. Only this time from another direction altogether. ‘At last’, he whispered. But as he turned towards the sound he realised he had made a terrible error of judgement. Not the first by any stretch of the imagination but this time was definitely to be his last.

  The blow split his scalp open from the crown of his head all the way down to the base of his right ear. The crowbar tore the skin away from his skull, broke the bone and exposed a horrid pale landscape of soft fleshy hills accentuated on either side by growing rivers of blood. Óli Þór’s knees gave way beneath him and he collapsed in a heap on the frozen concrete floor. Strong hands lifted him into the air and dragged his limp body through the gloomy half-completed building. Óli Þór’s final resting place was to be as demeaning and disgusting as the rest of his life had been. He was deposited feet-first into an empty and rusting forty-gallon drum and a thin noose was then tied tightly around his neck. The cord was pulled back behind him and looped around a piece of exposed steel three times. Once it had been tied firmly in place it held him against the back of the drum so he stood upright albeit as lifelessly as a broken toy. His head hung forward like a dying flower as the very essence of his existence ran down his cheek and dripped off his chin into the drum below. Nearby the sound of a metal lid being unscrewed from a can grated against the silence of the empty site. As drops of a bright shiny liquid bounced off Óli Þór’s head the smell of petrol filled the air. The can was tossed aside and a match sizzled to life before being tossed onto the back of his head. The flames burst into life and engulfed him as the figure they silhouetted against the plaster wall took a few steps back to get away from the flames. The tall muscled figure rubbed his hands together to warm them as he made the most of the spectacle before pulling an aerosol can from the inside pocket of his jacket. He walked up to the plaster wall and gave the can a good shake as the flames crackled and spat next to him.

  Somewhere across the building site a bottle rattled along the concrete floor casting an empty lifeless chime to the wind. With the spray can in one hand and the crowbar still gripped tightly in the other he sucked the cold air in through his teeth and quickly left his message scrawled in black paint. He was going to teach those stupid Icelanders a lesson they wouldn’t forget in a hurry. If ever.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Friday 6th February

  Even as Grímur Karlsson slammed the car door closed behind him he knew what he was about to do already had an ominous feel to it. It had been snowing relentlessly since just before Christmas and the city had now frozen solid beneath his feet. Ignoring the uneasy feeling in his gut and his throbbing head he set off up the hill as fast as his feet would carry him. The man and girl he’d followed from the club on Lækjargata had disappeared along a path between two rows of pine trees almost as if they’d headed into a tunnel. From somewhere in the darkness the girl made a noise that was almost a scream but not quite. The sound was muffled and apologetic as if she wanted to let her captor know she was already moving as fast as she could. They had left the bottom of Öskjuhlíð now and were headed up the hill towards Perlan and its giant shiny water tanks. They would soon be able to turn onto paths that led either right or left and then there would be no way Grímur could catch them up.

  ‘Stop. Police!’ Grímur yelled at the top of his voice but he wasn’t sure if they could even hear him through the biting wind.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket and fumbled with the touchscreen as he continued to run. He managed to find Ævar’s number and was just about to dial it when he lost his footing on a patch of ice. Because he’d been concentrating on the phone and not where he was putting his feet he fell heavily and didn’t have time to break his fall properly. The impact took him by surprise and knocked the wind right out of him. He let go of the phone as he spread his arms in front of himself in a comedic attempt to soften his landing. As he hit the rock-hard ice he made a sound not unlike a dog being kicked in the guts. His phone didn’t slide as far as he’d feared it might but he was still fast losing track of his quarry.

  He pulled himself to his feet and rubbed the elbow he had hurt in the fall. It was as sore as hell and would be badly swollen in the morning. Once he was upright he fumbled about on the ice for his phone. He needed to keep up with them or they would get away and that would be the end of his pursuit. And if that happened the girl was as good as dead. Another face that would stare back at him as he tried to fall asleep at night. She had tried to warn him this would happen but because she was just another junkie he hadn’t listened to her. He didn’t listen to anyone any more. He always knew best even though he knew nothing.

  With one eye on the ground and the other on where he had last seen them he set off again only this time much more carefully. Another fall like that and he could kiss the two of them goodbye. They would just disappear. The path he was on, such as it was, led straight between the two rows of pines and then into something of a clearing beyond that. That was where they had gone and that was wh
ere he had to get to now. Up above them he could see the exterior of the famous Perlan building. Its giant water tanks illuminated by powerful up-lights which made it look like a UFO. An image that was only exaggerated by the huge searchlight which sat atop its glass dome sweeping across the Reykjavík sky.

  As he emerged from the cover of the pine trees he looked to his right where he felt they had probably gone. There was no way to see the path that ran north across the top of the hill because there was no light to see it with. The lights from the water tanks were obscured by a stand of short tough-looking trees. The ground underfoot was uneven and covered in small streams of ice that danced and weaved their way in between the large rocks that were scattered about the place. It would have been tough going in broad daylight let alone in the grip of winter darkness. He hadn’t been thinking straight when he’d decided to follow them on his own. He could see that now. He was going to need help if he was to get out of this without making a fool out of himself. That was the last thing he needed right now simply because it was exactly what everyone expected of him these days.

  As he unlocked the screen on his phone he heard the girl again. This time her scream was much higher pitched than before and full of fear. Turning his attention away from the phone he ran towards where the terrible noise had come from. As he neared an isolated stand of trees he slowed and looked down at his phone. Indecision had set in. He had become the dithering old man he’d always feared becoming. A noise to one side distracted him and he turned to see what it was. Silence. Then his phone shattered the cold night air with its electronic warble. The screen told him the incoming call was from Ævar. He was saved from having to decide what to do. He would tell Ævar where he was and that he needed help. Then all he would have to do was keep track of the noises around him and wait for the other officers to arrive. Exactly what he should have done in the first place. He answered the call.

  ‘Grímur. We’ve found her,’ Ævar said.

  The silence all around him was terrifying. He felt that if he spoke he would be identifying himself to the entire hillside and giving away his position. His elbow throbbed, he was cold and tired and the booze in his stomach no longer felt welcome and warming. It felt like an enemy within him which is exactly what it was. Another noise. This time much closer.

  ‘Grímur, did you hear me? We’ve found Svandís.’

  Out of the black night a gunshot tore open the air around him. Grímur looked up and realised his phone was illuminating his face like a candle. If the bullet had been meant for him how it had missed was anybody’s guess. He ended the call, turned the phone off and took several steps away from where the deafening noise had come from. He fumbled about for a tree trunk to hold onto. Anything that he could use to steady himself. As soon as he felt something in the darkness he wrapped his fingers around it and tried to balance himself but it snapped as soon as he put any weight on it and another shot rang out even louder than before. This time he wasn’t hanging around.

  He turned back towards where he had come from and ran for his life but only managed to take three steps before he fell again. This time his arms were still flailing as he hit the ice with his full weight. He heard something in his left wrist snap and his phone went skidding across the ice and into the inky night. The pain scythed up his arm and across his chest. For a moment he thought he was having a heart attack or a stroke. He held his damaged wrist wishing that the pain would go away but knowing there was no chance of that happening. As he lay on his side trying to decide what to do his mind was made up for him again as he heard heavy footsteps coming through the trees straight towards him. Grímur looked around him but his phone was gone. Swallowed whole by the night’s black tide and along with it any opportunity he might have had of getting the help he so badly needed. Theoretically Ævar would be trying to figure out where he was but that wasn’t going to do him much good right now. Ævar would have heard the gunshots and would have guessed that he was in trouble but it would take time for him to figure out where to send back-up.

  With his one good hand Grímur pushed himself upright and moved through the impenetrable dark back towards where he had come from although it was tough to tell if he was moving in the right direction. He took three maybe four steps and tripped again over another rock. As he fell and rolled onto a wrist that was no longer of any use he had no choice but to scream out in agony. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was make any noise but the pain was more than he could bear. Somewhere behind him the gun fired again. This time the bullet found its mark and the pain in his wrist became inconsequential as his left side felt as if it were tearing itself apart from the top of his ribcage to his hip. He rolled onto his back and tried to concentrate on breathing. Such a simple task normally and yet now so very, very hard. With each inhalation his lungs felt as if they were being pulled in and out of the brand new hole in his chest. He reached out for his phone even though he knew it was gone. He wanted to cry out for someone to help him but the only person there wanted him dead.

  He wished he had stayed in his car now and waited for other officers to come but then the girl would probably be dead. She was probably going to die anyway but at least he had tried. His eyelids ignored all orders to remain open and fell like lead. His left arm wouldn’t move any more and everything hurt like hell. He could feel blood gurgling in his throat as he tried to breathe and then he heard two more shots. The girl screamed again and Grímur passed out on the ice.

  Somewhere beyond where Grímur lay unconscious and bleeding the girl fleeing through the dark stopped in her tracks. She wanted nothing more than to keep running but there were a couple of notions in her head that wouldn’t allow her to do that. First of all she had no idea where she was going and knew that heading in the wrong direction could well be more dangerous than standing still. The ground all around her was treacherous to say the least. She had reached the top of Öskjuhlíð and passed the iconic Perlan building and was about to head down the other side of the hill but even in the moonlight she could see what a bad idea that would be. Instead of the gravel paths that normally ran down the slope there were now streams of solid ice that snaked like miniature luge tracks all the way to the bottom. One foot out of place and she would wind up doing almost as much damage to herself as a bullet would. If she fell and hurt herself she could feasibly lie there in the dark until she froze to death in her skimpy clothes. With the temperature at around seven below it wouldn’t take long before she would go into shock and then without any assistance she would die. The other thing worrying her was she could tell the policeman was in a really bad way. She couldn’t live with herself if he died just because she was just too afraid to go back to help so she crept back through the dark towards the spot where she had originally broken free. With each step she took the determination in her drained and the courage slowly but surely left her legs. In spite of that something deep inside her pulled her across the rough ground to a stand of small trees she thought she recognised.

  If only they didn’t all look exactly the same in the dark. Short, stunted and leafless birch trees that were still fifty years away from being a proper and decent size. She reached out and held onto one of them to catch her breath. As she waited for her breathing to reach a more regular rhythm she thought she heard something just beyond her very limited range of vision. After the cop had been shot she had heard two more shots and panicked thinking they were meant for her. She had looked down at herself at one point expecting to find blood all over her but she had been alright. When the shock had worn off she had turned and run not caring where it was she was headed as long as it was away from the sound of the barking gun.

  The wind whistled through the bare branches above her head but otherwise there were no other sounds. Another branch snapped somewhere off in the distance. This time further away than before but still close enough to put the fear of God into her. She squinted and strained her eyes to try to make out any movement in the gloom but she appeared to be on her own. Only she knew that
definitely wasn’t the case. Somewhere out there was a killer. Then a barely distinguishable shadow moved across her field of vision as the light tripped over a moving figure before allowing it to disappear into the night once again. She was well aware that if her curiosity got the better of her it was likely to get her killed but still she inched forward in the direction of the movement she’d seen. If only she could check on the policeman to see if he was still alive or not then she could leave with a clear conscience. If he was already dead she wouldn’t feel too bad about what had happened. She hadn’t asked him to come after them and she couldn’t comprehend what he’d been doing there in the first place following them in the dark. His brave actions had given her the opportunity to escape though and it was that thought which forced her forward now as she tried to make out any sort of detail whatsoever across the ice. A shadow moved in front of her again dancing wraith-like in the dark. A figure bent over in the moonlight and picked something up off the ground. At first she couldn’t see what it was and then when she could she simply couldn’t believe her eyes.

  She knew straight away that she didn’t need to worry about the cop any more. It was time to do something she should have done already. Get the hell out of there and save herself. She kicked something across the ice with her foot then bent down and picked it up. She stuck it her pocket and then turned and ran. And this time she didn’t even think about turning back.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Friday 6th February

  The stench was unmistakeable. He hadn’t been kidding at all. When the stinking-drunk tramp had waved down their patrol car Eygló and Ari had both taken his wild claims with a pinch of salt but now they’d actually seen what he’d been talking about for themselves Ari was bent over a nearby wall throwing up over a pile of bricks. The smell of the charcoaled corpse had just been too much for him. Eygló, his more world-weary partner, was examining the crime scene from a safe distance making sure she didn’t tread on anything that might be useful later on. The forensics guy, Björn would be unimpressed enough with Ari’s shenanigans as it was without her adding to his list of gripes. The building site was going to be a nightmare for him to examine when he arrived. It was wet and dark and covered hundreds of square metres. There would be dozens of men who worked on the site every day making it almost impossible to determine if anything he found had been left by the murderer or just jettisoned in the course of a day’s work by an employee. On top of that they would all be showing up for work at eight o’clock wanting to get on with the job. She didn’t envy him in the slightest. The entire site would have to be sealed off and there were two van loads of officers on their way to do just that. Labourers, sightseers and the press would all have to be kept a safe distance from the scene until such time as Björn and his colleagues could state that there was no more useful evidence to be found. She pointed her flashlight at Ari as he wiped the detritus from the side of his mouth and wondered if she should make an attempt to cover up the small yet disgusting pile he’d left on the floor. She felt sorry for him but at the same time he was going to have to adapt to life on the force sooner or later and explaining himself to Ævar in the morning might just provide him with the intestinal fortitude to become a better police officer.