Page 23 of The Darkness
‘Thanks. Though my wife deserves most of the credit. We enjoy being surrounded by beautiful things.’
Hulda smiled. ‘Beautiful’ wasn’t the first word that sprang to mind when she saw the furniture and interior decor; ‘soulless’ was the adjective she’d have chosen.
But she didn’t say anything, merely waited for him to answer her question.
‘I’m in the wholesale business,’ he said after a moment, clearly proud of the fact, or at least keen to give that impression.
‘What do you sell?’
‘What do you want?’ His smile widened, then he went on, more soberly: ‘Maybe I shouldn’t joke about it in front of a cop. I import a bit of this and a bit of that: alcohol, furniture, electrical goods, whatever can be sold on for a good margin. I hope being a capitalist isn’t a crime yet.’
‘Of course not. And that’s it?’
‘It?’
‘Were you acquainted with Elena at all? I can show you a photo of her.’
‘There’s no need. I can assure you I didn’t know her. I’ve never heard her name before, never met any Russian asylum-seekers, don’t do any business with Russia full stop. And I’m happily married, so I have no need to resort to hookers, if that’s what you’re implying.’ He still exuded an almost preternatural calm.
‘No, far from it,’ Hulda assured him. She was aware of a growing sense of unease, in spite of the opulent surroundings. The glass coffee table between them shone like a mirror, the room was light and airy, the late-afternoon sun sent shafts of light through the windows. Áki gave the impression of being a perfectly respectable member of the public, polite, well groomed, good-looking even, yet her gut instinct told her she was crossing swords with a formidable adversary – and on his home ground.
Although the ensuing silence lasted only a few seconds, the time seemed to pass with infinite slowness.
‘Actually, what I wanted to ask …’ Unusually for her, Hulda was hesitant. She forced herself to continue: ‘What I wanted to ask is whether you were responsible for bringing her to the country.’
Áki didn’t seem remotely disturbed.
‘Well, there’s a question. Are you asking me if I brought a prostitute into the country?’
‘Yes, or prostitutes.’
‘Now you’ve really lost me.’ His voice had acquired a slight edge, and Hulda felt suddenly, unaccountably, chilled, despite the warmth of the room.
‘I’m talking about trafficking,’ she went on doggedly. ‘Organized prostitution. According to my information, Elena was mixed up in that kind of racket.’
‘Interesting. And why exactly would you think that I’m involved in that line of business?’ Áki’s voice had recovered its silky smoothness.
‘I don’t think anything,’ Hulda said hastily, reluctant to accuse him directly of being engaged in criminal activities when she had no solid evidence.
‘But you’re insinuating as much,’ he said, smiling again.
‘No, I’m simply asking if you know anything about this girl or that kind of activity?’
‘And I’ve already told you that I don’t. To be frank, I find it a bit much that a police officer should come knocking on the door of a law-abiding citizen like me, someone who’s always paid more than his fair share of tax, and coolly accuse me of running some kind of vice ring. Don’t you agree?’ He was still oddly calm, his voice level. Hulda wondered if an innocent man wouldn’t have been more affronted, more self-righteously angry.
‘I haven’t accused you of anything, and if you know nothing about Elena …’
‘Why did you come here?’ he asked abruptly, catching her off guard. ‘What gave you the idea to come and see me?’
She could hardly tell him that her source in the police believed him to be a major player in the sex industry.
After an awkward pause, she said: ‘An anonymous tip-off.’
‘An anonymous tip-off? They’re not always reliable, are they?’ He pressed home his advantage: ‘Have you got any evidence for me to refute? It’s hard to defend yourself against allegations snatched from thin air. You must be aware’ – he leaned a little closer – ‘that I have a reputation to protect. In business, a good reputation is everything.’
‘I quite understand. And I can assure you that this conversation won’t go any further. Since you’re obviously unfamiliar with the case, there’s nothing more to be said.’ Hulda felt an urgent desire to get out of the house, out into the sunny spring afternoon, though Áki’s behaviour had not been in the least threatening. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Suddenly, she felt hemmed in. Her palms were sweating and she was feeling increasingly jumpy, sensing that the tables had been turned. She had often tried to enter the heads of suspects, not out of sympathy for their plight so much as to improve her interrogation technique. Over the years, she reckoned she’d become pretty adept at it. Once she had gone so far as to have herself locked in a cell to find out what that sort of confinement felt like and how long she would be able to stick it out. Before locking the door, her colleague had asked if she was sure about this, and she had nodded, despite feeling the cold sweat prickling her skin. He had closed the door, leaving Hulda alone with nothing but the four walls. Next to the reinforced door was a narrow window and, above the bed, another, slightly larger one with frosted glass, the only purpose of which was to admit a small amount of light. Finding herself breathing unnaturally quickly, Hulda had closed her eyes to distract her attention from the fact that she was trapped in a small space. But far from helping, this had made her feel so claustrophobic that she was afraid she was going to faint. Yet she knew that, unlike real prisoners, all she had to do was knock on the door to be let out. Panting, close to hysteria, she had stuck it out for as long as she could before finally jumping up and banging on the door. When her colleague didn’t immediately respond, she had been on the verge of screaming, flinging herself against the door and hammering on it with all her might. But at that moment, mercifully, it had opened. She had felt as though she’d been locked in for hours, but her colleague had glanced at the clock and said: ‘You only lasted a minute.’
