The night air was still saved for the ghostly clanking of the boats in the harbor as they

bobbed gently up and down in the ice-cold water.

Up above, thick dark clouds swirled as a ceaseless barrage of snow fell steadily onto everything

inside. Just then, a door swung open, rupturing for a moment the silence of the sleepy

Icelandic fishing town with a blast of ecstatic rock music. Two young men stumbled out of

the doorway onto the snow-covered pavement as the door whipped shut behind them, muffling

once more the music from inside. Laughing together, one of the men, 18-year-old

Goodmunder, Inason, took a swig from a bottle of brandy while the other lit up a cigarette

and gazed out across the harbor for a moment before the pair then headed off into the snow.

Elsewhere in the early hours of that Sunday of January 1974, in half-naft Georgia, a

quiet port town 10km south of Reykjavík, 18-year-old Erdler Boladotje was returning home.

Erdler had been out with friends at Kluberin, a popular nightclub in Reykjavík, before

getting bored and deciding to head back to her apartment.

Erdler shared the flat with her boyfriend Saiva, but since he wasn't home at the time

and also had their only key, she made her way to the basement window, prized it open and

squeezed inside. Finally in, Erdler stumbled toward her bed and collapsed, exhausted.

It was sometime later when Erdler was stirred from sleep by the sound of voices speaking

in hushed tones, right outside her apartment. Alone in the darkness, an anxious Erdler

strained to hear what they were saying. Though she couldn't be sure, it sounded like Christian,

Albert and Trigvy, friends of her boyfriend Saiva. From what little snippets she could

make out, they seemed to be talking about Erdler, speculating whether she might be in or

not. Erdler froze in a fear. Though she knew them well enough, she'd never spent time

...