“Some spies in the West were uncovered after the Wall fell,” Elinborg said.

“Certainly,” Omar said. “I can imagine that it sent tremors through the whole espionage community.”

“But not all the archives were made public,” Erlendur said. “It’s not all waiting for anyone who cares to look.”

“No, of course not, there are still official secrets in those countries, just as there are here. But actually I’m no expert on espionage, neither abroad nor in Iceland. I know little more than you do, I expect. I’ve always found it a bit absurd to talk about spying in Iceland. Somehow it’s so unreal for us.”

“Do you remember when those divers found some equipment in Kleifarvatn?” Erlendur asked. “That was some distance from where we found the skeleton but the equipment provides an obvious link between the cases.”

“I remember when that was discovered,” Omar said. “Of course the Russians denied everything and so did the other Eastern bloc embassies. They claimed ignorance of the devices but the theory was, if I remember correctly, that they had simply been disposing of old listening devices and radio equipment. It wasn’t worth the expense of sending them home in diplomatic bags and they couldn’t dispose of them in the city dump so…”

“They tried to hide them in the lake.”

“I imagine it was something like that but, as I say, I’m no expert. The equipment proved that spying went on in Iceland. No question of that. But no one was surprised, either.”

They fell silent. Erlendur looked around the room. It was crowded with souvenirs from around the world after a long career in the ministry. Omar and his wife had travelled widely and visited the four corners of the globe. There were Buddhas and photographs of Omar at the Great Wall of China and at Cape Canaveral with a space shuttle in the background. Erlendur also saw photographs of him with a succession of cabinet ministers.

Omar cleared his throat. He had, they felt, been mulling over whether to help them further or just send them away. After mentioning the Russian equipment in the lake, they sensed a hint of caution about him, and had the feeling that he was watching every word he said.

“It might not be, I don’t know, such a bad idea for you to talk to Bob,” he eventually said, stumbling over his own words.

“Bob?” Elinborg repeated.

“Robert Christie. Bob. Head of security at the US embassy in the 1960s and 1970s, a fine man. We got to know each other well and we keep in touch. I always visit him when I go to America. He lives in Washington, retired ages ago like me, has a brilliant memory, a lively character.”

“How could he help us?” Erlendur asked.

“The embassies spied on each other,” Omar said. “He told me that much. I don’t know on what scale and I don’t think any Icelanders were involved, but the embassy staff, from NATO and the Warsaw Pact countries, had spies in their employ. He told me this after the end of the Cold War, and history corroborates that, of course. One of the embassies” tasks was to monitor the movements of diplomats from enemy countries. They knew exactly who came here and who left, what their jobs were, where they came from and where they went, their names, their personal circumstances and family situation. Most of the effort went into gathering that kind of information.”

“What was the point?” Elinborg asked.

“Some staff were known spies,” Omar said. “They came here, stayed briefly and left again. There was a hierarchy, so if someone of a certain rank arrived, you could be reasonably certain that something was going on. You recall the news reports in the old days about diplomats being expelled? That happened here too and it was a regular event in neighbouring countries. The Americans would expel some Russians for spying. The Russians would deny all the accusations and respond immediately by expelling a few Americans. It went on like that all over the world. Everyone knew the rules. Everyone knew everything about everyone else. They tracked each other’s movements. They kept precise records about who joined the embassies and who left.”

Omar paused.

“One of their priorities was recruitment,” he continued. “Recruiting new spies.”

“You mean training diplomats to spy?” Erlendur said.

“No, recruiting spies from the enemy.” Omar smiled. “Getting staff from other embassies to spy for them. Of course, they tried to get people from all walks of life to spy and gather information, but embassy officials were particularly sought after.”

“And?” Erlendur said.

“Bob might be able to help you with that.”

“With what?” Elinborg asked.

“The diplomats,” Omar said.

“I don’t understand what…” Elinborg said.

“You mean he would know if something unusual or abnormal had gone on in the network?” Erlendur said.

“He certainly wouldn’t tell you anything in detail. He never tells anyone that. Not me and certainly not you. I’ve asked him often enough but he just laughs and jokes about it. But he might tell you something innocent that aroused superficial interest and was difficult to explain, something odd.”

Erlendur and Elinborg looked at Omar with slightly puzzled expressions.

“For instance, if someone came to Iceland but never left,” Omar said. “Bob could tell you that.”

“You’re thinking about the Russian bug?” Erlendur asked.

Omar nodded.

“What about you? The ministry must have kept tabs on who joined the embassies and what kind of people they were.”

“Yes, we did. We were always informed of organisational changes, new staff and the like. But we didn’t have the opportunity or the capacity — or, as a rule, even the desire — to maintain surveillance of the embassies on the scale they did.”

“So that if, for example, a man joined the staff of one of the communist embassies in Reykjavik,” Erlendur said, “and worked here without the American embassy ever noticing him leave the country, would your friend Bob know about that?”

“Yes,” Omar said. “I think Bob could help you with that kind of question.”

Marion Briem lugged the oxygen cylinder back into the sitting room after answering the door to Erlendur. Erlendur followed, wondering if this would be his fate when he grew old, withering away at home on his own, lost to the world and hauling an oxygen cylinder behind him. As far as he knew Marion had no siblings and few friends, yet the old fogey in the oxygen mask had never regretted not starting a family.

“What for?” Marion had said once. “Families are just a nuisance.”

The subject of Erlendur’s family had cropped up, which did not happen often because Erlendur disliked talking about himself. Marion had asked after his children, whether he kept in touch with them. This had been many years ago.

“Aren’t there two of them?” Marion had asked.

Erlendur was sitting in his office writing a report on a fraud case when Marion suddenly appeared and started asking about his family. The scam involved two sisters who had defrauded their mother and left her penniless. This had prompted Marion to label families a nuisance.

“Yes, there are two of them,” Erlendur said. “Can’t we talk about this case here? I think that…”

“And when was the last time you saw them?” Marion asked.

“I don’t think that’s any of your b—”

“No, it’s none of my business, but it’s your business, isn’t it? Isn’t it your business? Having two children?”

The memory ebbed from Erlendur’s mind when he sat down opposite Marion, who slumped into the tatty armchair. There was a reason that Erlendur did not like his ex-boss. He expected it was the same reason why the cancer patient had few visitors. Marion did not attract friends. On the contrary. Even Erlendur, who visited now and again, was no great friend.

Marion watched Erlendur and put on the oxygen mask. Some time went by without a word being said. At last Marion pulled down the mask. Erlendur cleared his throat.