Black's Game (Svartur á leik)

OK, here's how it is. You've been awake for five days,

you're king of the hill and you've just finished feeding your nose.

There's a chick hanging on to you, babbling on,

but you can't hear a word she says.

All your senses are mixed up and have stopped working the way they should.

You're wondering where the hell you are, and whose place this is

where you've been hanging out for as long as you can remember,

could be two hours or two days.

Not that it fucking matters, what's more important is where you were before,

and I'm not talking about this club or that bar,

No, you need to go further back. Cause even though you know deep down

that the journey ends in darkness,

it doesn't necessarily mean that it started in darkness.

Based on shit that actually happened.

REYKJAVIK, MARCH 1999.

You don't remember the fight at all?

- No. - Nothing?

Do you drink a lot? You a blackout guy?

- No. - No.

Toti, is that you?

It's me, Stebbi, from Olafsvik.

How are you, man?

Good. What are you doing here?

I spent the night.

Why?

Some drunken bullshit. I'm probably looking at an assault charge.

- Do you have a lawyer? - No, not yet.

That won't do. You need a good lawyer.

Trust me, I know.

Stebbi.

Is your mother still out west?

Yeah, out west.

What about yours? How's she doing?

She hangs in there, the old broad.

Look, if you get in trouble, just contact me.

Toti! I hadn't seen him much since we were kids in Olafsvik.

Our mothers were best friends at the time and his father the town's minister.

And even though Toti was two years older,

he and his friends let me hang with them,

popping sea sickness pills, watching porn and shit like that.

But after his father died when he was 12, he and his mom moved to Reykjavik.

Toti dear?

Since then I'd just heard some crazy stories about the guy.

All I knew was that he didn't study theology like his father.

What are you doing?

This mother dear, is Dextro Amphetamine Phenylpropanolamine. Speed!

- Stefan Kormakur Jonsson. - Yes.

Hello, I'm from the Reykjavik Police, I'm handing you a summons.

They called it a "reckless and aggravated assault. ".

"Up to five years of imprisonment", and "personal injury claim. ".

Mum?

I was wondering if you knew of any openings?

No, I'm not quitting school.

I'm just thinking ahead for the summer.

Yeah.

OK. Yeah.

Thanks. Bye.

- I don't like it. - What are you afraid of?

Even though the cops didn't find jack shit there,

it doesn't mean that Robbi hid the stash in his apartment.

There's only one fucking way to find out, isn't there.

Toti.

- Hey, it's Stebbi here. - What? Stebbi who?

Stebbi, from Olafsvik. From the police station the other day.

What's up?

I was thinking about what you said about the lawyer.

Can you recommend anyone?

Did you get charged?

Yeah, and a personal injury claim, fucking bullshit.

No problem, I can get you in touch with a real lawyer.

Really?

Yeah, you just have to do me a favour in return.

- I scratch your back, you scratch mine. - Sure, no problem.

- Are you free now? - Yes.

- Do you have a license? - Sure.

This here opens an apartment on Kleppsvegur 66, top floor to the right.

Go in there and see if you can find something for me.

It's extremely well hidden. The cops couldn't even find it.

What is it?

It's best that you don't know. In case you get busted.

Just imagine where you'd hide 12 big ass chocolate bars.

That can't be found.

If you do this for me, Stebbi...

I'll get you in touch with Viktor Marteinsson, my lawyer.

He'll get you acquitted. I guarantee it.

- You think so? - Think?

This is chicken shit compared with what Viktor normally deals with.

Still I don't know...

Taking this chance because of the charge, at this point I mean.

Sure, perhaps you're right. At this point...

Best to be patient, wait it out, and see what happens.

Who knows, the charge might vanish from the system or something.

Fuck it.

That's right!

Look, there's one thing.

If something happens...

have you heard of "Moment Zero"?

No?

Sometimes there are moments, when you get into extreme situations

where it's very important to keep face. No matter what.

You just scream two words, not out loud, but in your head.

Two words.

Fuck. You!

Then you just do the first thing that comes to mind.

No matter how crazy. You just do it without thinking.

That's it.

Who are you?

Robbi told you where he hid the hash?

Did you speak to Robbi?

Are you fucking mute?

Calm down. Relax!

Stebbi Psycho!

You realise the shit you just stepped into?

What!

- You know who that guy was? - No.

The motherfucker you almost killed? Was the one and only Einar Skakki!

You know Joi who owns Venus? Joi "Pharaoh"?

Yeah, I've heard of him.

Einar works for him. His right hand guy.

Are you good?

No, can't say that I am.

Just relax, it'll be fine.

With Joi "Pharaoh" and Einar Skakki on my ass?

Hey while you're with me, no one's going to touch you.

Really?

Stebbi, I take care of my own, don't fucking worry about that.

Now, we'll just set up a meeting with Viktor, take care of that charge.

And never think about that business earlier.

Eat something. Gotta stabilise your blood sugar.

Who's this Robbi?

Robbi, the rat?

He lives in that charming apartment.

The Rat's Nest.

He's in police custody, the idiot.

Einar Skakki is his uncle.

2 YEARS EARLIER

What the fuck!

Always the same hassle with you. Bulldozing your way through everyone.

Well now, how's everyone?

- Wasn't it a piece of cake? - Yeah. Sort of.

But there wasn't as much shit there as there was supposed to be.

Really?

Bullshit!

No bullshit. We checked it out. Me and your nephew here, didn't we, Robbi?

- And what? Are you clean now? - Yes.

There's not one gram left in that house, I guarantee it.

Recently restored.

I checked under the hood. The engine looks beautiful.

Worth at least 3.5 million.

The deed.

Let's go to the bar guys. My treat. Jager all around.

Joi "Pharaoh" and Einar "$kakki" were true Icelandic pioneers.

They had been on the front lines of the Icelandic drug business

for more than two decades.

In the 1970's The Pharaoh was the first Icelandic citizen to be sent

to prison for dealing drugs.

When speed became the "it" drug during the punk era,

the ball truly started to roll for Joi.

He became well known as the owner of Club Venus,

a strip joint in the heart of Reykjavik.

When he bought his villa, he registered it in his wife's name of course.

He paid for it in cash.

Rumour had it that the Pharaoh enjoyed a cosy relationship with the Narcs.

He gave them info on the competition and in turn they left him alone.

But in any case, one thing was clear.

For decades, nobody in this business had been able to touch The Pharaoh.

But in the wake of a falling out between Toti and the Pharaoh

when he caught Toti selling Ecstasy behind his back and went apeshit,

Toti decided to go all in and started competing for the Pharaoh's business.

Nori, stop leaving those damn skateboards all over the place.

This is little Nori. Always on the computer.

A genius. We're cousins after all!

Go ahead and put Stebbi in the system.

- Really? - Yeah.

OK, I'll need a name, social security number and address.

And you'll have to bring your tax card in. Where do you want him?

Why not the car wash.

Toti, I'm not sure I can do this full time.

You know, with school and everything.

Stebbi, just fill this out. It's only a cover.

Come on, let's go upstairs.

There you are, you asshole.

I've called you a hundred times today.

I heard you ran out of the tattoo parlour. What the fuck is going on?

Are you going to cry, or are you going to finish your tanning session?

Just pick up the phone when I call you. Is that complicated?

Who's this?

What piece of shit are you dragging in here?

Calm down. Stebbi's cool.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Didn't we agree on not going anywhere near this fucking "soap"?

At least we have it now. Better than the Pharaoh having it. Right?

Was no one staking out the Rat's Nest?

Yah, Skakki. He decided to drop by on a social call.

Really? What happened?

We made him feel welcome, me and this psycho.

- He almost killed him. - I wouldn't go that far.

Who the fuck is this guy and why is he speaking?

Saevar, he's a fucking nut job

that can hold his own in a fight with Einar Skakki.