Free Edge of Nowhere by Michael Ridpath Page A

They were only a few hundred feet above the dark waters of the fjord and steep mountains rose on all sides. There was no sign of the sun, which, at this latitude and time of year, skipped above the horizon for only a few hours a day. The lights of Ísafjördur gleamed ahead, the arms of its harbour walls grasping the sea. Mountains and town glimmered white in the snow.
    There was a stiff crosswind, but the pilot crabbed the plane down on to the runway with only the smallest of bumps. Magnus leaned into the breeze as he and the other passengers battled their way to the small terminal.
    Inside he searched for the black uniform of a police officer, but couldn’t spot one. He did see the lone taxi outside the terminal drive off with two other passengers. He felt a flash of impatience: he had made it to the Reykjavík City Airport and on to the plane to Ísafjördur within an hour of receiving Baldur’s instructions. It was a bit pathetic if the local police couldn’t even get from Bolungarvík to Ísafjördur to meet him.
    ‘Sergeant Magnús?’
    He turned to see a tall woman approach him. He had noticed her as soon as he had arrived in the terminal: she was very noticeable. She was a couple of years older than Magnus – in her late thirties probably – lean, with long curly blond hair and a strong jaw. Although she was wearing a warm parka, like everyone else in the terminal, there was something elegant about her. Her stylish silver earrings, perhaps, or her subtle make-up.
    ‘Yes?’
    She held out her hand. ‘I’m Eyrún. I’m the Mayor of Bolungarvík. Tómas, our policeman, didn’t want to waste the hours of daylight: he’s searching the scene right now. Since I was coming through Ísafjördur on my way back to town, I said I could pick you up.’
    ‘I’m honoured,’ said Magnus. He was also impressed that the local cop had got his priorities right.
    Eyrún led Magnus to a Land Rover Freelander and within a few minutes they were on their way westwards out of town.
    ‘Actually, I was grateful of the opportunity to meet someone new,’ the Mayor said. ‘It can get a little lonely up here.’
    ‘I guess it can,’ said Magnus. ‘But you must be used to it.’
    ‘Not yet,’ said Eyrún. ‘This is my first winter here. I come from Reykjavík.’
    ‘That figures,’ said Magnus. ‘I didn’t have you down as a local.’
    ‘A year ago I was a corporate lawyer flying to New York and London all the time. Then the kreppa came and Iceland didn’t need quite so many corporate lawyers.’ The kreppa was the Icelanders’ name for the credit crunch, which had hit them particularly hard. ‘I thought it would be good for my husband and me to slow down a bit, get out of the rat race. So I applied for the job of Mayor in Bolungarvík.’
    ‘They must have leaped at you.’
    ‘I thought landing the job would be easy, but it turned out there were sixty applicants, many of them better qualified than me.’
    ‘But they took you?’
    Eyrún smiled. ‘Yeah. I guess they must have liked me.’
    Of course they liked her, thought Magnus. She must have been the best thing to hit Bolungarvík for years. ‘How do you like them?’
    ‘The work is actually pretty interesting. There’s a lot going on for such a small town: the population of the village itself is just short of a thousand. And by and large I like the people. The isolation just takes more getting used to than I expected.’
    They were driving along the edge of the fjord. Mountains rose steeply on all sides into the thick folds of grey cloud that acted as a ceiling to the narrow corridor of water winding out towards the open sea.
    They approached a junction. Directly ahead was the mouth of a tunnel, but the entrance was blocked with a ‘Road Closed’ sign. Eyrún turned right along a road that hugged the shore.
    ‘Bolungarvík is at the head of the fjord,’ Eyrún said. ‘There’s only one road there and that’s this one, Route 61. It’s frequently