Sun on Fire by Viktor Arnar Ingólfsson

ambassador told the guard that the meeting would soon be over, but for whatever reason that didn’t turn out to be the case. At 02:25, the ambassador called the security guard and asked him to call three cabs. At 02:41, two men came out of the Icelandic building, walked across to the Felleshus, and exchanged their guest passes for their passports.”
    Wolf consulted his notes. “According to the guard’s log, these two were Herr Gíslason and Herr Mathieu. Ten minutes later, six people came out of the Icelandic building and crossed to the Felleshus. These were Ambassador Björnsson and his wife, Herr Sváfnisson, Herr Sigrídarson, Herr Kárason, and Herr Bjarnason.”
    A moving image appeared on the screen: One man supported the woman, who was barefoot and carrying one shoe in her hand; another, a tall man in his shirtsleeves, performed some clumsy dance steps and waved his arms about; a third man carried a jacket that probably belonged to the dancer he was trying to steer toward the exit; the fourth was obviously limping; and the fifth was bent over, clutching his stomach. The group moved across the plaza and disappeared out of camera range.
    “Herr Sváfnisson had lost his guest pass, and Ambassador Björnsson signed for the return of his passport on behalf of the embassy. The ambassador and his wife went straight to one of the waiting cabs and drove away. The other four men climbed into the second car. The guard kept an eye on them, as HerrSváfnisson was somewhat restless and noisy. In the end, the cabdriver refused to drive them. He got out of the car and was about to call the police, at which point the security guard came out and settled matters—Herr Sváfnisson moved into the backseat and the other three undertook to keep him under control. Herr Kárason tipped the cab driver an extra one hundred euros, and he agreed to take them to their hotel. This disturbance was the reason the guard didn’t pick up on the fact that one of the visitors hadn’t presented himself to reclaim his passport. When he eventually noticed, he immediately called me—I was on call and asleep in the security-section bunk room. I got up at once, and we started searching the outside area. We didn’t find anybody, but we could see from our control desk that the ambassador hadn’t reactivated the security system in the Icelandic building. The regulations prevent us from entering any embassy unless the alarm system gives a signal or circumstances specifically demand it. That wasn’t the case, and I decided to call Herr Ingason, who lives nearby. He supervises all communications between the Icelandic embassy and the security guards, so that seemed the obvious thing to do. Herr Ingason arrived here at 03:27 by cab and proceeded alone into the Icelandic building.
    “At 03:43, he returned to our guard post and said he’d found the visitor dead. I asked if he was sure the man was dead, or if we should call an ambulance. Herr Ingason said he was very sure that he was dead. I then asked if he had any instructions for us. He said he needed to consult with the Icelandic authorities immediately and that he would do this by telephone from the embassy. He asked me to reserve a conference room in the Felleshus and direct the Icelandic embassy staffers there as they showed up for work. The only thing to add is that we examined the CCTV footage monitoring the entrance to the embassy from the basementparking area, but it shows no movement from Friday until the body was removed after lunch yesterday. This tallies with the door sensor, which logged no openings during the period.”
    Gunnar asked, “Is the sensor active when the alarm system is off?”
    “Yes. It logs the time whenever the door is opened but gives no alarm signal if the security system is not activated. There is no such entry in the log.”
    “Would a professional be able to open the door without the sensor picking it up?”
    Wolf shook his head. “I’m almost sure that’s