Free Season of the Witch by Árni Thórarinsson Page B

south,” answers Heida. “Just on a smaller scale. Burglary, robbery, fights, rape, assaults, especially on weekends. Manslaughter or murder—but only rarely. Prostitution, but on a small scale. Most crime here is connected with drug abuse, and that’s rising fast. Young people today see nothing wrong with popping an E-pill or two, or snorting coke or speed when they go out.”
    “There hasn’t been much about that in the police reports since I got here,” I comment.
    “As you may remember, a group was formed to combat violent crime when people felt things were getting out of hand. It’s had some impact. And hopefully led to a change of attitude.”
    “That sounds like wishful thinking to me,” I reply. “To the criminal element, a change of attitude simply means they have to alter their tactics.”
    “We have Special Branch officers deputed by the National Commissioner of Police, under the command of the chief of police here in Akureyri,” she adds. “They’re supposed to deal with the most difficult cases.”
    “Yes, including the matter of the big industrial development projects here in the east? I think I heard something about action against organized crime in that context.”
    “That’s right. But we’ve seen no sign of that here in Akureyri. Not so far as I know.”
    “Are there drug gangs here?” I ask. The halibut is long gone.
    She nods her red locks. “Yes, but only a few. Sad to say, groups of youths rampage around the streets—maybe ten or fifteen of them—waving baseball bats and knives and even occasionally loaded guns. They collect drug debts by intimidation. A lot of people have been injured, and there has been an increase in suicides. It’s just a question of time when they stop posturing and actually kill someone. The older generation is just beginning to see what’s happening. But I’m not sure the parents really know what their kids get up to. And the police haven’t managed to control the problem. The rate of drug-related crime is rising one hundred percent from year to year. Far too many young people—including those from so-called good homes, who are in school or well-paid work—take drugs for granted as part of their weekend fun. Just like us with a beer or a glass of wine. Some of them have been using for years.” She falls silent and observes me for a moment. “Have you never drunk alcohol?”
    “What? Oh, yes. I have been known to take a drink, quite often,” I smile. “And in some quantity.”
    “He’s taking a break,” Jóa interjects. “Well, he had a great choice: the whiskey or the work.”
    “Yes, wonderful choice,” I say. “I’m doing an experiment to see how long I can remain drunk by nature.”
    They share a bottle of white wine. I stick to Coke—with a capital C—and find myself gazing longingly at their glasses. Heida’s glass, anyway.
    “Everything in the bigger communities is also found in smaller places,” I remark, because I can’t think of anything more original to say. “Just scaled down. Miniaturized. It’s true of the squares, the banks, crime, and drugs. Just think how the influx of people into Reydargerdi will increase the problems there: drugs, prostitution, violence. I spoke to the chief of police there the other day. He preferred to call them ‘tasks’ rather than problems.”
    “Yes, I read your article,” says Heida. “It sounded like a complex business arrangement rather than a complex social dynamic.”
    “And now they’re talking about heavy industry here in Eyjafjördur,” says Jóa.
    “Or Húsavík,” Heida replies. “Or Skagafjördur.”
    “Isn’t that a recipe for disaster?” Jóa asks.
    “Where people see a prospect of profit, greed will always win out,” I remark. “They forget everything else when they see a fast buck. Nature? To hell with it!”
    “I heard somewhere that a person who thinks money can’t buy happiness just doesn’t know where to go shopping!” quips the local editor.
    “And