“Jesus,” Eva Lind groaned.

“Who are you this time? Which one am I talking to now? Where’s the real you in all this pile of dope?”

“Don’t start that crap again. ’Who are you?’ ” she mimicked him. “Where’s the real you? I’m here. I’m sitting in front of you. I’m me!”

“Eva.”

“Ten thousand crowns!” she said. “What’s that to you? Can’t you come up with ten thousand? You’re rolling in cash.”

Erlendur looked at his daughter. There was something about her that he’d noticed the moment she’d arrived. She was short of breath, there were beads of sweat on her forehead and she constantly wriggled in her seat. As if she were ill.

“Are you ill?” he asked.

“I’m fine. I just need a bit of money. Please, don’t be difficult.”

“Are you ill?”

“Please.”

Erlendur went on looking at his daughter.

“Are you trying to quit?” he said.

“Please, ten thousand. That’s nothing. Nothing for you. I’ll never come back and ask you for money again.”

“Yes, quite. How long is it since you…” Erlendur hesitated, unsure how to phrase it, “…used that stuff?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve given up. Given up giving up giving up giving up giving up giving up giving up!” Eva Lind was on her feet. “Let me have ten thousand. Please. Five. Let me have five thousand. Haven’t you got that in your pocket? Five! That’s peanuts.”

“Why are you trying to stop now?”

Eva Lind looked at her father. “No stupid questions. I’m not giving up. Giving up what? What should I give up? You give up talking such crap!”

“What’s going on? What are you so worked up about? Are you ill?”

“Yeah, I’m sick as a pig. Can you lend me ten thousand? It’s a loan, I’ll pay you back, eh? Avaricious bastard.”

“Avaricious is a good word. Are you ill, Eva?”

“What do you keep asking that for?” she said and grew still more agitated.

“Are you running a temperature?”