a webcam that routed a stream of traffic images from the junction of Kringlumýrarbraut and Miklabraut, with a backup of recordings in decent quality. The young man who was working that afternoon ferried Helgi regular cups of coffee as he hunched over the computer at the secretary’s desk.
The young man smiled and was affable enough, but Helgi discouraged him from asking questions, concentrating instead on the stream of traffic covered by four different cameras. The timing was well after rush hour and the traffic was relatively light, but sightings of silver Outlanders were few and far between, and none of them matched the number of Axel Rútur’s car.
More than once he had to force himself to concentrate, finding his attention straying, and often it seemed to stray to a mental picture of the blonde young woman he had interviewed that morning. It wasn’t just the pleasingly rounded figure behind the figure-hugging top that he had no trouble imagining, but the nagging feeling that there was something he’d forgotten. He’d taken care not to push her on the identity of the loan shark, as he hadn’t wanted to spook her into a terrified silence, and he admitted to himself that he was looking forward to paying her another visit.
The traffic footage continued, and it wasn’t until the ticker had rolled over, showing close to eleven in the evening, that he saw another silver Outlander stopped at the lights, with a Volkswagen close behind it. He paused the replay and played it forward slowly, until it moved enough for the number plate to be seen as the lights went to green. He zoomed in and felt a jolt of excitement as he made out the number of the car he was looking for.
Right, now where are you going? He muttered to himself, frustrated that he wasn’t able to follow the car’s progress any further. The affable young man helped him save the images and made prints of some of them before locking up and following him downstairs. Helgi realized the young man had stayed at work for his benefit alone and he felt guilty at having stolen part of his Saturday afternoon.
‘Thanks very much,’ he said as they got out of the lift in the car park and their ways parted.
‘No problem. Any time,’ the young man replied and went on his way, whistling to himself as he clicked the fob of his car keys.
Helgi’s Skoda didn’t want to start, but eventually it did when threatened with being left in the shopping centre car park for the rest of the weekend. He decided to stop off at the communications centre on the way home and shared a cup of coffee and a handful of doughnuts with the officer on duty.
‘No joy with this car, then?’
‘No, there’s a picture of him at the lights at Kringlan, which is clear enough, and I can see him going straight ahead in the inside lane. But that’s as far as it goes.’
‘There used to be a damned good set of cameras that Channel 2 had up there. It’s a shame they’re not there any more.’
‘It’s a shame we don’t have our own traffic cameras. It’s mad, really, having to rely on the Roads Administration’s cameras, or private ones here and there.’
‘I know,’ Siggi sympathized. ‘It’s coming though. We’re putting a remote system in so we can have cameras in line of sight with a relay on the Hallgrímskirkja church tower and run the images straight here.’
‘Really? When?’
Siggi splayed his palms. ‘Who knows?’
‘Budgets?’
‘Exactly. Anyway, this fellow must have been heading for somewhere in 101, you think?’
‘That’s what I think, otherwise he’d have taken the Keflavík road or he wouldn’t have got as far as the Kringla intersection.’
‘So he was going downtown somewhere,’ Siggi mused. ‘What’s this guy done?’
‘He’s disappeared.’
‘Missing person and a missing car?’
‘That’s it. I’ve had enough for today. My eyes are going square from staring at the screen. Can you ask the patrols to keep an eye out for it, just in case
The young man smiled and was affable enough, but Helgi discouraged him from asking questions, concentrating instead on the stream of traffic covered by four different cameras. The timing was well after rush hour and the traffic was relatively light, but sightings of silver Outlanders were few and far between, and none of them matched the number of Axel Rútur’s car.
More than once he had to force himself to concentrate, finding his attention straying, and often it seemed to stray to a mental picture of the blonde young woman he had interviewed that morning. It wasn’t just the pleasingly rounded figure behind the figure-hugging top that he had no trouble imagining, but the nagging feeling that there was something he’d forgotten. He’d taken care not to push her on the identity of the loan shark, as he hadn’t wanted to spook her into a terrified silence, and he admitted to himself that he was looking forward to paying her another visit.
The traffic footage continued, and it wasn’t until the ticker had rolled over, showing close to eleven in the evening, that he saw another silver Outlander stopped at the lights, with a Volkswagen close behind it. He paused the replay and played it forward slowly, until it moved enough for the number plate to be seen as the lights went to green. He zoomed in and felt a jolt of excitement as he made out the number of the car he was looking for.
Right, now where are you going? He muttered to himself, frustrated that he wasn’t able to follow the car’s progress any further. The affable young man helped him save the images and made prints of some of them before locking up and following him downstairs. Helgi realized the young man had stayed at work for his benefit alone and he felt guilty at having stolen part of his Saturday afternoon.
‘Thanks very much,’ he said as they got out of the lift in the car park and their ways parted.
‘No problem. Any time,’ the young man replied and went on his way, whistling to himself as he clicked the fob of his car keys.
Helgi’s Skoda didn’t want to start, but eventually it did when threatened with being left in the shopping centre car park for the rest of the weekend. He decided to stop off at the communications centre on the way home and shared a cup of coffee and a handful of doughnuts with the officer on duty.
‘No joy with this car, then?’
‘No, there’s a picture of him at the lights at Kringlan, which is clear enough, and I can see him going straight ahead in the inside lane. But that’s as far as it goes.’
‘There used to be a damned good set of cameras that Channel 2 had up there. It’s a shame they’re not there any more.’
‘It’s a shame we don’t have our own traffic cameras. It’s mad, really, having to rely on the Roads Administration’s cameras, or private ones here and there.’
‘I know,’ Siggi sympathized. ‘It’s coming though. We’re putting a remote system in so we can have cameras in line of sight with a relay on the Hallgrímskirkja church tower and run the images straight here.’
‘Really? When?’
Siggi splayed his palms. ‘Who knows?’
‘Budgets?’
‘Exactly. Anyway, this fellow must have been heading for somewhere in 101, you think?’
‘That’s what I think, otherwise he’d have taken the Keflavík road or he wouldn’t have got as far as the Kringla intersection.’
‘So he was going downtown somewhere,’ Siggi mused. ‘What’s this guy done?’
‘He’s disappeared.’
‘Missing person and a missing car?’
‘That’s it. I’ve had enough for today. My eyes are going square from staring at the screen. Can you ask the patrols to keep an eye out for it, just in case
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