The Perfect Landscape Read Online Free PDF Page A

moment’s hesitation. She’d enjoy going out in the car with Steinn. Then she glances at the reports. The title page reads, “A Report on the Condition of Artworks Owned by the City.” There is a photo of a sculpture covered in graffiti with a detailed description andan assessment of what needs to be done to bring it back to its original condition. Hanna rests her hand on the pile. In the background Agusta’s voice chirps in a familiar fashion, and out of the corner of her eye she’s aware of Edda briskly coming and going. She looks at Steinn’s back as he pores over something on the long table. He has made space for a desk lamp with a strong bulb, which floodlights the table and is reflected in the windowpane above.
    She can’t see the two women on the other side of the partition, but she can hear the tap-tap of the keyboards, and every so often a phone rings; their voices are low and she can’t make out the words. Outside it has finally started to get light, and the familiar outline of Mount Esja is visible, dark against the faint gray morning light.
    It’s past midday when Steinn comes over to Hanna and asks whether she’s up for going across to Oskjuhlid.
    On their way out to the parking lot at the back of the gallery, Steinn looks questioningly at Hanna and asks hesitantly, “By the way, would you mind driving?” The question takes her by surprise, but Steinn offers no explanation and she doesn’t ask. It’s not that he’s disagreeable, but he doesn’t exactly invite further inquiry. He has a quiet manner, and his responses are measured. Hanna wants to get to know Steinn, and she tries to slow herself down to his rhythm, mentally drawing herself into the preparatory stance. Of course she can drive. What a question! Steinn fishes the car keys out of his pocket and hands them to her. Apart from the file he has tucked under his arm, he reminds her of a farmer on his way out to the cattle shed in his russet-red winter jacket and knitted hat. He has shoved the digital camera, which he’ll use to record the damage, into hisjacket pocket. His silver-colored ski pole taps on the wet tarmac. Hiking fanatic, thinks Hanna. Definitely goes walking in the mountains on the weekends.
    He silently points the ski pole diagonally across the parking lot toward an old blue Volvo. The pay of a conservator or whatever it is he really does at the gallery is clearly nothing to write home about. Hanna wonders whether he has a wife and what she does. She can hardly be in a well-paid job judging by this old banger, which could well belong to a farmer. There aren’t any child seats in the back. But if he has children they could be too big for that, she supposes as she gets into the driver’s seat, slides it forward, and adjusts the rearview mirror. Steinn keeps quiet in the passenger seat as she pulls out jerkily and stalls the Volvo—she isn’t used to manual cars. She wonders if he’s on some kind of medication that means he can’t drive; yet he drove to work this morning.
    Hanna wants to ask him about the sculpture they’re going to see and when they should have a look at Gudrun’s painting but can’t quite bring herself to, so they drive in silence. After a bit Steinn switches on the radio, and for the few minutes it takes to drive from the gallery to the wooded hillside, they listen to announcements and news bulletins. Hanna pricks up her ears when she hears the name of an old friend, Gudny, who is now the minister for justice, mentioned in connection with legislation on young offenders. Then she remembers who Agusta reminds her of—Gudny when she was young. It’s the ambitiousness. Underlying, continual, hungry ambition, which will never be fully satisfied. Agusta will go far, she thinks to herself, already on edge. This job may not turn out quite as cushy as she’d imagined back home in Amsterdam.
    Gudny’s job means she’s often in the news, and Hanna has followed her work on Internet news pages. She’s