he said.Dóra protested. She was busy examining evidence related to the murder in the apartment on Austurbrún. “Call a cab and go home and rest,” she said. “You need to give yourself a chance to get better.”“Please,” Gunnar said. “I have to test a theory. If it works, it’ll lead us to Magnús.”“Listen, the chief is in charge of that. He’ll send the SWAT team with you if you know something.”“I don’t know if I know something. It’s just a hunch. I need to check it out. Then I’ll brief the chief. I promise.”“You’re crazy.”“I know I’m crazy,” Gunnar said, but Dóra had already said good-bye and hung up.“Fuck,” Gunnar said, and looked at Emil. “Hey, buddy. You got a driver’s license?”The writer laughed. “Driving a car is the lowliest activity the human species has ever indulged in. Besides which, I never go outside zip code 101 in this godforsaken city. So, no, I do not have a driver’s license.”11:20When Birkir entered his room, Fabían was sitting up in bed, smoking.
