The Legacy Page 15

  As usual, Börkur was oblivious to any undercurrents. He was the only one who hadn’t spotted their old fourth wheel Thórdur at the cinema earlier. Thórdur had been there with his girlfriend. Both parties had pretended not to see each other in the half-empty auditorium. There were times when it must be an advantage to be as impervious as Börkur. He slapped Karl on the shoulder.

  ‘You could always take a chance. Anyhow, it doesn’t look like anybody’s home.’

  Karl, silently studying the house, came to the same conclusion. All the lights appeared to be off, the drive was empty and the windows were shut. Karl immediately regretted not having shown Halli by knocking on the door. It would have been good for his image and wouldn’t have had any awkward repercussions seeing as there was nobody there. He must learn to think before he opened his mouth.

  ‘I wonder if there’s a broadcast on air now.’ Karl stared at the deserted house, trying to fathom why the woman’s ID number should have been read out. He had long since given up trying to work out why his own had come up. Perhaps it was all a massive coincidence and the sequences hadn’t been ID numbers at all.

  ‘Dunno.’ Halli was still staring at the house, his breath fogging up the window. He wiped the glass.

  ‘Aren’t you two going to try and catch it?’ Karl glanced into the back seat at Börkur, who had lost interest and was now drumming his fingers on his knees and humming a tune.

  ‘Me?’ Börkur looked surprised. ‘No. I haven’t touched my receiver for weeks. It isn’t even hooked up. It blew a fuse and I couldn’t be arsed to fix it.’

  Karl shifted his gaze to Halli. ‘What about you?’

  Halli kept his eyes on the house. ‘No. I think mine’s broken too. I’ve kind of lost interest in that radio stuff. There’s so much else going on. You know what I mean, just so much other cool stuff.’

  ‘Broken?’

  ‘Or something. I’m thinking of flogging it anyway. Buying a new computer instead.’ Halli had plunged into the online world with such enthusiasm that when, just before New Year, the police had carried out a raid on a ring involved in illegal downloads, he had been among those arrested. His IT equipment, his pride and joy, for which he had slaved for months in the supermarket warehouse, had been confiscated. At the time Karl had hoped this might force Halli to revive his old interest in radio, but no such luck. That was more than two months ago and he still hadn’t encountered Halli on any frequency.

  Karl was speechless. His friends had completely lost interest and not even the numbers station was enough to rekindle it. Both used to be like him – eager to communicate with foreign operators and fascinated by all the weird and wonderful transmissions out there. For years they had often chosen to sit at home by their radios, waiting for something exciting to happen on air, rather than meet up in person. But when at last, against all the odds, it had happened, they couldn’t be bothered to tune in. Karl was at a loss. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, unwilling to hear their replies. It would be even worse to hear them confirm out loud that he was the only one left in the ham radio world. If they abandoned him, he would have nobody left. Not a single soul.

  ‘Look!’ Börkur pointed to the next-door house. ‘There’s somebody watching us.’ Through the net curtain they could see a figure peering out at their car. Nothing odd about that and no reason to be afraid, but Karl felt a shiver run down his spine all the same. The atmosphere in the car became even more subdued.

  The idea of checking out Elísa’s house had come to them, seemingly out of the blue, after they left the cinema. They would drive first to her place, then past the house of the woman whose ID number had been added to the list in the latest broadcast. They didn’t live that far apart. But seeing the shadowy figure watching them, Karl wondered if this had been such a good idea. The nosy neighbour might mistake them for burglars casing the joint, and call the police. He wondered if his licence plate was visible at this distance. No, probably not. Karl could think of many things he’d rather do than visit a police station. As a precaution, he had better empty the ashtray containing the evidence of this evening’s spliffs. There was a sour taste in his mouth as he thought of the pungent smell now permeating the entire basement of his house.

  Karl started the car. ‘Let’s go. There’s nothing to see here. I don’t know what we were expecting. The woman’s a total stranger; I didn’t need to see her house to confirm that.’

  Börkur fell back into his seat as Karl accelerated away, but that didn’t shut him up. ‘Let’s drive past the other woman’s place. I mean, we’ve come all this way, and for all you know you may recognise her. Maybe we’ll see her and she’ll turn out to be from the chemistry department. Then you’ll know the broadcast’s a student prank.’

  ‘Student prank?’ Halli didn’t take his eyes off the road ahead. From the way he was deliberately ignoring Karl, it was clear he was still sulking.

  ‘Yeah, a student prank. Is the departmental party coming up?’

  ‘No. That was before Christmas.’ As Karl drove past the neighbour’s house he regretted not having turned and driven out the other way. If the watcher in the window hadn’t been able to read the licence plate before, he or she would certainly be able to now. The figure turned to follow their progress and he stamped on the accelerator.

  If he sprayed window cleaner around the basement, maybe that would cover up the smell of dope.

  ‘This has nothing to do with the chemistry department.’ Ástrós Einarsdóttir, the owner of the new ID number, didn’t allow public access to her Facebook page and the only pictures of her online were old and blurry. If she was enrolled at the university she must be a mature student because she was sixty-five. There was no one that old in his lectures. Unless she was studying from home or in a different department. The photos of her had been too grainy for Karl to say for sure whether he had ever seen her before. It didn’t help that she had one of those instantly forgettable faces. She was about as memorable as this car.

  ‘Whoa!’ Börkur, who wasn’t wearing a seat belt, slammed into the door as Karl swerved on to the main road without slowing down. He wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible. ‘Go on. Swing by the other woman’s place. It can’t do any harm.’

  Unless they ran into another nosy neighbour who might also report them to the police. Nevertheless, Karl obeyed. At least Börkur was still talking to him: he couldn’t face the drive home with both of them in a sulk. He’d rather finish this disastrous evening on a high note. That way he might be able to sleep tonight instead of lying awake, fretting over his lonely future. ‘OK, OK. But I’m not going to knock on her door. There’s no point.’

  ‘You could at least try.’

  In the rear-view mirror Karl saw Börkur fold his arms and turn away to look out of the side window, like a spoilt child denied a trip to the sweet shop.

  Karl didn’t respond and silence descended again. Luckily, they didn’t have far to go, but Karl switched on the radio to lighten the tense atmosphere. They were playing a sentimental song about eternal friendship. Damn. There was no chance of changing stations as that would only draw attention to the unfortunate coincidence.

  The song didn’t end until they reached the other woman’s address. Karl parked against the kerb. ‘Right. Now what?’ He bent forwards to get a better view through the windscreen. The house, a maisonette containing two flats, was lit up by a string of Christmas lights that no one had yet taken down. They had discovered by googling her that Ástrós lived upstairs – alone, apparently, as there were no other phone numbers registered at that address. Apart from this, they knew almost nothing about her.

  Halli and Börkur had been little help after they heard the numbers broadcast. When Halli was startled awake by the opening tune, he had seemed distracted. If Karl hadn’t known better he’d have thought Halli was ashamed of having dozed off. He’d hardly said a word, merely listened without participating in the conversation. Börkur had more than made up for this by talking so much that Kar
l had hardly had a chance to write down the evening’s broadcast and the new ID number. After the recitation finished, they had tried and failed to come up with any plausible explanation for it. Börkur found it amusing; an unexpected adventure to break up the monotony of their lives. For Halli it seemed to be an embarrassment and best ignored, whereas for Karl it was a compelling mystery that involved him personally.

  What could be more personal than your ID number?

  ‘There’s somebody home. The light just went out upstairs.’ In his excitement, Halli had forgotten his bad temper. He had shaken off his earlier distracted mood once they got to the cinema, and now he seemed to be recovering from the altercation with Karl. ‘Do you think it’s her?’

  Börkur stuck his head between their seats and peered up at the house. As he wriggled to get a better view, his foot knocked against a loose object and he reached down. ‘What are you doing with this?’ He held out a mobile phone. ‘Was it your mum’s? It was on the floor.’ The phone had a sparkly cover.

  Karl took it and turned it over in his hands. He had never seen it before. His mother’s phone, which was still lying on her bedside table, wasn’t nearly as smart. ‘On the floor? I’ve no idea whose it is.’ He tried switching it on but the battery was flat. ‘Perhaps one of my mum’s friends dropped it.’ The phone must have slid out from under the seat when he stamped on the accelerator. It could have been lying there for months.

  ‘Were any of your mum’s friends hot?’ Börkur bent down again and this time drew out a pair of women’s knickers. A lacy, scarlet thong. There was no way that could have belonged to Karl’s mother. Karl took it from him, turning slightly pink as his fingers touched the flimsy material. It was like trying to catch hold of a spider’s web or thin air.

  Halli burst out laughing but his initial amusement quickly soured. ‘Have you got a girlfriend you’re not telling us about? I don’t mean to be rude about your mum, but there’s no way these belonged to her or any of her mates. I saw a couple of them once and they wouldn’t have been able to pull these over their knees.’

  ‘I haven’t got a girlfriend.’ Karl carefully laid down the thong and placed the phone beside it. ‘I haven’t a clue who these belong to or what they’re doing in the car.’

  ‘They must have been here since your mum was using it.’ Börkur picked up the phone. ‘I’ve got a charger at home that fits this model. Like me to charge it and find out whose it is?’

  Halli glared at Karl as if expecting him to decline the offer for fear that his secret girlfriend would be found out. He smiled faintly when Karl thanked Börkur and let him pocket the phone.

  The lights went out in another window upstairs. And a third. Slowly but surely they all went out. In the same instant the radio news began.

  ‘The police are still refusing to release any details about the death of a young woman last Thursday night. According to sources, the incident is being treated as murder. The woman’s body was discovered at home where she had been alone with her three children while her husband was abroad. There was no evidence of drug or alcohol abuse. The Police Commissioner’s office is due to issue a statement tomorrow morning.’

  Karl swallowed. He didn’t want to stay here another minute. He felt as if he were suffocating in the car and cracked open the window to let in some fresh air. Pain suddenly exploded in his head as though he had been struck with a hammer. He turned the key in the ignition and drove off. He couldn’t be sure but as he turned out of the street he thought he heard a faint scream. Neither Halli nor Börkur showed any signs of noticing it, however, so Karl kept it to himself.

  When he finally fell asleep later that night, the scream was still echoing in his head.

  Chapter 14

  The popcorn was too salty. Ástrós kept having to get up and refill her glass of water, which broke her concentration. She had completely lost track of the plot and only had the vaguest notion of how the people on screen were connected or who had done what to whom. The identikit actors didn’t help with their big, white teeth illuminating the screen every time they smiled; the women all young, their faces like extraordinarily beautiful, immobile masks; the men too old to justify the young women’s interest. She missed Geiri. He should have been sitting here beside her, dozing off whenever there was a lull in the action or she spent too much time grumbling that the female characters were only there to vie for the men’s attention.

  Ástrós reached for the remote control and turned down the volume for the adverts. They always seemed to be louder than the programmes, as though to ensure that nobody would miss them. Perhaps it was time to go to bed and persevere with the book she was struggling to finish. She really couldn’t care less about the fates of the two-dimensional characters who were so busy cheating on one another on the TV. For all she cared, the lot of them could end up alone or dead in the gutter.

  The temperature had dropped and she went over to pull the curtains across the large sitting-room window. As she drew near, she felt the cold reaching out to meet her and her skin prickled with gooseflesh. It was slightly warmer once the thick curtains were in place, shutting out the draught and the sight of the frozen world outside. Ástrós had taken a quick peek out at the deserted street. Naturally there was no one about in this weather. It wasn’t actually snowing but a biting wind blew the loose snow crystals over the icy pavements and tarmac. She shivered and carefully closed every gap in the curtains. With any luck the weather would be better tomorrow. It was about time this relentless series of cold fronts went off and persecuted some other part of the world.

  The advertisements gave way to trailers for upcoming programmes. This did nothing to lift the depression induced by the cold and loneliness. Better call it a night. Ástrós went to check that the balcony door was locked and to close the curtains there too. She hadn’t ventured out on to the balcony since she tidied up the planter in preparation for winter, removing the dried-up summer flowers and a little tuft of weeds that was peeping out of the soil. There was no real need to check the door, but she did so out of habit. In defiance of her scientific training, she had a superstitious fear that some unexplained danger would threaten if she failed to check the door. It was no good trying to rationalise the feeling away. It was like the fear of the dark, which had afflicted her as a child and returned now that she was alone. As long as Geiri had been there, she hadn’t given it a thought; once the lights were out the warmth of his presence had kept at bay any dread about what might be lurking in dark corners.

  Ástrós jumped at what looked like a movement outside. She let go of the curtains. Her heart was hammering in her chest. Her thoughts flew to the doctor’s appointment she had booked to check if she needed stronger pills for her blood pressure, and this raised her pulse still further. She didn’t want a heart attack. She met her own reflection in the glass: the worn pyjamas visible below the skirt of her grubby dressing gown, the grey hair that had looked so neat when she had finished all the curling and teasing but was now sticking up untidily. The wide-open eyes almost lost among more wrinkles than it was fair for one face to contain. She was riveted by the sight of the loose jowls and the turkey wattle of flesh that sagged unbecomingly from her chin down to her neck. What had happened to her face? And her body? The dressing gown tied round her waist only exaggerated her shapeless figure, adding several kilos where she could least afford them.

  Ástrós pulled herself together. It was pointless indulging in vain regrets about her appearance when the choice lay between growing old or dying. Her thoughts flew to the strange phone messages and the promised visit. The person in question hadn’t shown up or sent any further message to cancel. As the day wore on she had gradually stopped thinking about it, put away the cake she had taken out of the freezer and emptied the coffee out of the thermos. She wasn’t going to drink it that late in the evening and risk lying awake all night. Not that it mattered if she slept or not; there was nothing to look forward to in the morning. It was the thought of lying in the dark, staring use
lessly at the ceiling, that she would do anything to avoid. Strange how one’s troubles seemed so insurmountable at night. The tiniest problems drew strength from the darkness. The moment it grew light they shrank and became manageable again.

  Nothing stirred on the balcony apart from the swirling snow that had accumulated in one corner. Ástrós felt her heartbeat returning to normal and suddenly everything appeared in a better light. As she turned away from the window, she noticed that her reflection didn’t look as much of an affront to her self-respect as before. She sighed and a small cloud formed on the glass, only to vanish almost immediately. That dreadful TV drama had probably affected her more than she realised. At one point a man had crawled under the bushes along the wall of a house until he found a window to break in through. Then he had throttled one of the beautiful women with his gloved hands. The woman’s death mask as she lay on the floor was as flawless as when she had been alive. Ástrós doubted she would make such a beautiful corpse herself. Irritably, she pulled the curtains over the door.

  The programme resumed after the ad break. Ástrós sneaked one more look out at the balcony, jerking the curtains apart to take any potential burglar by surprise, but there was nothing to be seen. It must have been rubbish blowing around. Although an agile man could climb up there easily enough, it was unlikely that a thief would go to that amount of trouble.

  The drama had lost all its charm by now. Ástrós hurried into the bathroom, leaving the TV on to avoid being enveloped in silence while she got ready for bed. She might be able to hear what happened to the beautiful people as well, but in the event the buzzing of her electric toothbrush drowned out their conversations.

  When she heard an oddly muffled crash it didn’t occur to her that it was anything other than another commercial break – an advert for home insurance this time. So it came as a horrible shock when she emerged into the hall to see a shadowy figure swooping towards her, its arm raised to strike. She didn’t even have time to scream. Her cry was caught in her throat as the blow landed on her neck.