Meltwater (Fire and Ice) by Michael Ridpath

the way she had chosen years ago to prove the
point, although Magnus was sure she actually understood the language pretty well. But it was a sore point, so he decided to shut up and pretend not to notice. ‘Sorry. What about these other
leaks?’
    ‘Well, there was the publication of Ódinsbanki’s loan book here in Iceland – you probably remember that. Some of the Chinese government’s measures to silence
dissidents and a list of the websites they block – the Chinese got very unhappy about that. An investigation into Sabine Dumont, the Belgian Finance Minister, and her dodgy past. An
Italian corruption scandal—’
    ‘Is that news?’ asked Magnus.
    ‘Hey, we Icelanders are hardly in a position to complain, are we?’
    ‘True,’ said Magnus. Before the kreppa , as Icelanders called the financial crisis of 2008, Iceland had prided itself on being rated the least corrupt country in the world.
Since the kreppa , they knew they were not.
    ‘There was a big scandal about arms exports to Zimbabwe breaking sanctions,’ Vigdís went on. ‘The Luxembourg subsidiary of a German bank laundering money . .
.’
    ‘Anything against the United States?’ Magnus asked. ‘Anything that might interest the CIA?’
    ‘Not really, apart from the Darfur leak right at the beginning. And there are the handbooks of a bunch of secret student clubs at colleges in America. They sound very strange.’
    ‘Fraternities?’ said Magnus with a smile. ‘They are very strange. But not really something the CIA would bother themselves with. Nor the FBI for that matter.’
    ‘OK, but I suppose the other stuff would interest them. They are interested in pretty much everything, right?’
    ‘I guess so,’ said Magnus. ‘I imagine someone like Erika Zinn is bound to be paranoid about them.’
    ‘Perhaps with good cause,’ said Vigdís.
    ‘Do you want me to get in touch with them?’ asked Árni.
    ‘With the CIA?’ Magnus couldn’t hide his surprise.
    ‘Sure. I could call the US Embassy in Reykjavík. Ask to speak to someone.’
    ‘No, Árni, I do not want you to indulge your espionage fantasies. I think it would be a thoroughly bad idea to get in touch with the CIA; it would just make things more political.
But if we do, we will do it through official channels.’ Magnus turned to Vigdís. ‘What about Erika Zinn herself? Anything from Interpol?’
    ‘Yes. I mentioned the Italian corruption case. In 2007 there was a judicial investigation in Rome into the takeover of a company called Gruppo Cavour. The investigation was dropped, but
then Freeflow published details of discussions between government ministers about bribing judges. The Italians didn’t like that. Erika spent a week in jail there three months ago: it looks
like she has pissed off some pretty important people in Rome. She was released, but she is still officially under investigation.’
    ‘No outstanding warrant for her arrest?’
    ‘No,’ said Vigdís.
    ‘Pity.’
    ‘But Dieter Schroff has a couple of convictions for hacking into computers. Been to jail twice, once in 1991 and once in 2000. Let out in 2003 and nothing since then.’
    The door opened and Rannveig, the assistant prosecutor, came in. She was a red-haired woman in her late twenties, hardworking and effective.
    ‘Did you get the warrant?’ Magnus asked.
    ‘No,’ said Rannveig. ‘At least not yet. The judge is thinking about it.’
    ‘ Thinking about it?’ Magnus was surprised. Icelanders didn’t like to think about things. They took quick decisions. Sometimes with good results, sometimes with bad, but
as a rule they didn’t like to dither. ‘What’s the problem?’
    ‘Viktor Símonarson got to the District Court the same time I did,’ said Rannveig. ‘He objected to the search warrant, in particular to the warrant to search
Freeflow’s computers. It’s the Icelandic Modern Media Initiative.’
    ‘But from what I understand that’s just a resolution before Parliament. It