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the embassy, but that he was some kind of acquaintance of the ambassador’s.”
    Gunnar was silent for a while, enjoying the sights of the big city. He hadn’t experienced an urban environment like this, and found it a little overwhelming. He also wondered where to take the conversation next, as he sensed that the driver was not a very willing participant in a discussion about his workplace, but too polite to make this obvious. Probably best to go down a completely different road. He said, “What’s the latest soccer news? I saw on the Internet that Hertha tied scoreless against Bochum Saturday.”
    “Ah, you’re a soccer fan?” The driver’s face lit up.
    “Yes, Hertha is my team.”
    “Is that so?”
    “Yeah, ever since 1995, when Sverrisson joined the club.”
    The driver grinned broadly. “Ah, Jolly Sverrisson,” he said. “Everyone remembers him. Sverrisson was a great player. Maybe not the most skillful, but he was hard-hitting and reliable. He did a lot for the team.”
    “Yeah, it was a great team when it finally got into the Bundesliga.”
    “I agree. The team is very strong again now in my opinion.”
    “Yeah, but it’s lame that they didn’t beat a low-ranked team like Bochum,” Gunnar said, grabbing the handle above the door as the driver took a sharp curve.
    “Yeah, that was bad. If you’re still here on Saturday, you can go to the Olympic Stadium. Hertha’s playing at home against Stuttgart. The ambassador sometimes goes to soccer games, and he invites me if there aren’t any visitors. I’ll tell him you’re a fan.”
    “I’ll definitely be back in Iceland by then, but thanks anyway,” Gunnar said. After a short silence, he asked, “What’s he like, the ambassador?”
    The driver hesitated, then said, “He has many good qualities.”
    “Such as?”
    “He’s always very friendly and grateful for everything you do for him. He speaks very good German, and he’s kind.”
    “Any flaws?”
    “It’s hardly worth mentioning. He’s a bit . . .” The driver let go of the steering wheel with his right hand and pretended to drink from a glass. “You understand,” he said.
    “Ah. But he’s always compos mentis, isn’t he?”
    “Um, yes, but he does sometimes fall asleep in the car when I’m driving him home from gatherings. The butler at the residence helps me get him into the house.”
    “What about the ambassador’s wife?”
    The driver pretended not to hear the question. “Here ahead you can see the Tiergarten Park woods. We’re almost at the embassy. Herr Ingason is waiting to meet you.”
    “Counselor Ingason? Not the ambassador?”
    “No, the ambassador is at home. Herr Ingason deals with everything at the embassy on his behalf. He’s a very solid and reliable gentleman. The ambassador would be lost without him.”
    He focused his attention on driving, shortly taking a right to arrive at a building complex on their left. In front of the complex stood a row of flags representing the five Nordic countries.
    15:05
    The driver parked at the curb, briskly got out, and opened the door for Anna. An older man standing nearby approached and greeted the passengers as they climbed out of the car.
    “I am Counselor Arngrímur Ingason,” he said, repeating his name as he shook hands with each of the three police officers in turn. Birkir introduced himself first, and then the others.
    Sigmundur and Arngrímur exchanged perfunctory greetings—they obviously knew one another.
    “Thank you for responding so quickly,” Arngrímur said to the trio as they gathered their luggage. Gunnar handled the tool case for Anna, who used the opportunity to light a cigarette.
    “That’s our job, I guess,” said Birkir, taking in the surroundings. Through a glass wall he could see an open area between the embassy buildings. The encircling copper wall was mostly hidden from this angle, but the complex looked impressive in the sunshine.
    The driver said something in German to the counselor,