A faint smell of marijuana tickled his nostrils. So Ollie had found the place then. Magnus was very late. Erika had been taken to the National Hospital nearby, where her cheek had been discreetly patched up. Magnus had given a detailed description of her attacker, and the police were looking for him in Reykjavík. He would be hard to find. Although Magnus was sure he would recognize him again, there were hundreds, possibly thousands of men in Reykjavík who fitted his general description. ‘Hi!’ Magnus called out and walked into the kitchen. The house was small. His room was upstairs with his own little bathroom. Downstairs was larger: it was where Katrín lived. The kitchen, which Magnus had the use of, was just off the entrance hallway. Katrín and Ollie were sitting at the table, smoking cigarettes, a couple of Magnus’s cans of Viking beer open in front of them. ‘Hey, bro!’ said Ollie as he pulled himself laboriously to his feet and gave Magnus a hug. ‘Sorry I didn’t meet you at the airport,’ Magnus said.
