The Legacy Read online

  He could no longer even feel his hands. They were lashed behind his back with plastic ties that cut deep into his wrists. To be on the safe side, the man had also wrapped more of the bloody tape so tightly around his hands that it would be impossible to use his fingers even if he did find something to cut his bonds with. At first this had given him hope – it must mean there was a sharp object of some kind in here that he could use. But after shuffling around the room several times on his sore buttocks he had almost ruled out this possibility.

  Yet he couldn’t be entirely sure. Blindfolded and unable to grope around with his hands or feet, he hadn’t been able to search effectively. His ankles were lashed together with more plastic ties and his knees were tied or wound together with tape as well.

  Perhaps he had missed something. Perhaps it was worth forcing himself on one last exploratory shuffle. But his mind recoiled from the thought of the pain. Halli blew violently through his nose and felt the mucus shoot out and land on his chest. He didn’t care. He was only afraid that if a stranger opened the door and saw the state of him, he or she would slam it and hurry away again without investigating further.

  He sucked in air through his nostrils and felt a little better. Tried to savour the feeling, but it didn’t last. Inevitably, snot started collecting again. He shifted, causing the agony to flare up in his wrists. That was all right because at least it told him his hands hadn’t gone entirely numb.

  How long had he been here? Twenty-four hours? Thirty-six? Probably not that long or he would be hungrier. It would have been impossible to feel any thirstier. How long could a person live without water? Two days? Three? Four or five? Probably not that long. Was that the man’s plan? To leave him to die of dehydration? He hadn’t shown up for a long while and although Halli would have given a great deal never to see him again, the fear that he had abandoned him was even worse.

  If only the man would come back one more time, remove the gag from his mouth and give him a drink, then Halli would promise never ever to shop him if he was allowed to go free. Somehow Halli would make the man understand that he could be relied on; remind him that after all he had nothing to gain by reporting him.

  Maybe it would be better to skip the last part, suggesting as it did that Halli might change his mind and rat on him. He should probably be preparing what to say when the man came back instead of shuffling around on his arse, searching for implements that weren’t there. That is, if the man came back. And if he removed the tape from Halli’s mouth.

  Halli cleared his nose with such force that the snot flew out in the air instead of landing on his chest. Perhaps he’d hit his trouser legs or shoes. A wave of self-pity washed over him. His body twitched and for a while he was afraid he was developing epilepsy or a feverish chill. He wasn’t actually too sure what a chill involved but imagined it probably made sufferers shiver so violently that it was like having an electric shock. Could you die from a chill? That would be ironic, given how hot it was in here. If anything, he was more likely to die of a fever, unless he died of thirst before he could succumb to either. Or would he be granted a chance to talk the man round?

  The tears welled up again and he was helpless to stop them. This was so horrible. And so unfair. What had he done to deserve it?

  Was this his punishment for taking part in a silly conspiracy? He hadn’t really done anything to deserve this fate. He had sold the man his equipment, taught him how to set up a timed broadcast and planted the phone and woman’s knickers in Karl’s car. Oh, and nicked the bunch of keys. That was all. The man had told him it was just a little prank that someone close to Karl was playing, and made him promise not to give the game away.

  But he should have known this man wasn’t what he seemed; his voice alone had made it plain that any betrayal would have serious consequences. And to make matters worse he had withheld half the fee he had promised Halli for his help and equipment, telling him he would get the rest afterwards. But only if Halli kept his mouth shut. That had been enough to prevent him from breathing a word of it.

  Now, though, he had been forced to face up to what he had suspected all along – that this was no joke. He had realised when the man fetched him from home, persuaded him to get in his car, and drove off. When they reached their destination he had forced Halli to send his parents a text saying he was going to a holiday chalet that had no mobile phone reception. At that moment it had been glaringly obvious. If he hadn’t been so stunned he would have refused, jumped out of the car and made a run for it. How could he have been so stupid? And why on earth had he opened the door to the man when he turned up at his room?

  In his heart of hearts he knew the answer. He had longed to hear the man tell him not to worry, that the prank was nearly over and he would get the rest of his money soon. He needed it so badly. He had already spent the first half on paying off his debts, buying a new coat and shoes and putting down a deposit on a computer that would be ready for delivery shortly. At that point he would need to pay the remainder. That was why he had opened the door. It was that simple. Money. That was why, ignoring all his misgivings, he had agreed to play this trick on his friend.

  These thoughts now gave way to another: could Karl be in the same boat as him? Had the man’s plan all along been to get to him? Shit. What for? To kill him?

  Halli tried to push away the idea that the man might be capable of murder. If he was, then Halli himself was in deep shit and so was Karl. There was no guessing why someone would want to kill his friend but that was beside the point. What mattered more right now was that the man had a clear reason to want Halli himself out of the way. After all, Halli could report him. Even though he was unlikely to be believed, there was always a chance, and the man wouldn’t want to take that risk.

  He simply had to find a way to reason with the man. He’d promise to keep his trap shut and would stand by his promise. Even if the man killed Karl. Halli would remain silent as the grave, keep his head down, not say a word. If only he could find a way to convince the man of this.

  He pricked up his ears. What was that? The rumble of an engine? Then he heard a key inserted in the lock and the clanking of the chain that had been wrapped round the two door-handles when they arrived and the man had tricked him into going inside. He had claimed the radio transmitter was in here and wouldn’t work; Halli had to help him sort it out and would be paid extra for his trouble. Once again greed had been his undoing.

  Before the door opened, Halli hastened to unblock his nose. He’d prefer not to have to do it in front of the man. Stupid, of course, but he couldn’t help the feeling.

  There was the click of a light switch. Halli deduced from this that he had been sitting in darkness and, oddly enough, the thought comforted him. It was easier to reconcile himself to his inability to see anything than if he had been sitting here blindfolded in bright light.

  He heard the man’s footsteps approach and come to a halt in front of him. Halli guessed the man was bending down. He waited with frantic impatience for him to speak. Hopefully to say he was going to give him a drink.

  ‘There you are. Lucky I ran into you.’ This sarcastic note was new and Halli didn’t know how to interpret it. Could it be a good sign? Halli started making noises behind his gag to indicate that he wanted to talk but ended up sounding like a muzzled pig having a stand-off with a slaughterhouse worker.

  ‘Your ear’s almost torn in two.’ Now the man’s voice sounded more like his usual self, but oddly muffled, as though he were talking through a mask. Halli’s attempt to make a noise emerged as a pathetic whine. ‘You won’t need the top half any more. Or the bottom, for that matter.’ The man seemed to sigh. ‘Or anything else.’ He fell silent and after a moment Halli heard footsteps again, this time moving away. Then there was a click that Halli thought at first was the light switch, indicating that the man was leaving again without offering him a chance to beg for mercy. He almost swallowed the padding in his mouth in a desperate attempt to attract the man’s attention and make
him come back. But then his brain processed the sound more accurately and he thought that instead of switching off the light, the man had plugged something in. But what?

  The footsteps came nearer again and without warning the man was right beside him. Halli began to tremble, first from fear, then from pain as the man tore at his injured ear. He was being horribly clumsy if his intention was to put a bandage or plaster on it. But that wasn’t what the man had in mind at all. Halli felt something icy against his sore earlobe; not just cold but sharp as well. He whimpered as loud as he could but of course this did nothing to help. Falling silent, he made an effort to keep still; perhaps his uncontrollable shaking had caused the man to jab him in the ear. Surely he couldn’t be intending to damage it any further? Perhaps it was just scissors he was going to use on the tape. Perhaps Halli would get a chance after all to beg for mercy. He made a superhuman effort to control his shaking and moaning. He must be able to. There was so much at stake – everything was at stake.

  He sat there quietly, holding himself still.

  ‘That’s better. Thank you. That makes my life much easier.’

  Halli expected to feel a knife or scissors being inserted under the tape and starting to snip. But the touch when it came was not where he had expected and turned out to be very different in nature. The stinging of his earlobe was forgotten, replaced by a searing agony inside his head. He heard a click and everything that had gone before paled into insignificance.

  Chapter 28

  Karlotta wasn’t picking up. After six rings Huldar felt he had done his duty and could relax. She would see that he had returned her call, and with any luck she’d leave it at that, forget her errand and let him off the hook.

  Sadly, though, it was unlikely that the sorry tale that had begun in that grubby toilet cubicle would end so easily. Karlotta was probably in a meeting or otherwise busy and would call back as soon as she had a moment. Huldar was dreading the conversation; he was filled with remorse at the mere thought of her. It was nothing personal; the fault lay with him.

  Karlotta reminded him of what a shit he had been.

  He had successfully avoided her since it happened and would happily go to his grave without having any further contact with her. The mere fact that she had phoned him had given him indigestion. He knocked back a couple of heartburn pills but they did nothing to relieve the acidic churning in his stomach. He followed them up with some nicotine gum and immediately felt a little better. Well enough to think about moving. He stepped out of the car into the dark winter’s evening.

  Instead of heading straight to the front door, he decided to sneak round the back and see if he could slip inside unobserved by the policeman on guard duty. From what he had seen, it shouldn’t be difficult. The uniformed officer was sitting in the patrol car in front of the main entrance. So far so good, but the blue glow reflected on his face suggested he was busy surfing the net.

  Huldar had parked at a discreet distance, and managed to approach the rear of the property unobserved via the two neighbouring gardens. They were divided by low fences that came close to collapsing when he clambered over them. Freyja’s building clearly wasn’t the only one around here in a state of disrepair. But the neglect was noticeably worse in her garden; rubbish poked up out of the snow and a small gas barbecue – the cheapest money could buy – lay on its side in one corner. A rusty old swing rocked gently in the breeze. No wonder she’d been attracted to a certain carpenter from Egilsstadir called Jónas. Had he existed, he could have made a real difference here.

  Having reached the corner of the building, Huldar peered cautiously up the street. The policeman was still engrossed in his phone. Huldar made it into the entrance lobby unseen, as he had suspected he might. Rather than ringing the bell, he went back outside, deliberately making a noise this time.

  The police officer gaped at him, phone still in hand. He stuttered as he returned Huldar’s greeting, making frantic efforts to turn off his phone without dropping his gaze. ‘Were you inside?’

  ‘No. I came to see how the surveillance was going.’ Huldar nodded at the policeman’s phone. ‘Something good on YouTube?’

  ‘Er, no. I just got distracted for a moment.’ The young officer was scarlet in the face.

  ‘Well, would you mind concentrating on your job? I’m going inside to check on the situation and talk to the woman. When I come out I don’t want to have to bang on the window to attract your attention.’

  ‘No, of course not. I won’t take my eyes off the house.’

  As he walked away, Huldar heard the window rolling up. He glanced round before entering, to reassure himself that the young man hadn’t immediately reverted to playing with his phone. No, he was staring at Huldar with fierce concentration.

  There was hardly anywhere to tread among the piles of free newspapers in the lobby. Huldar kicked them aside to reach the doorbells. Freyja’s name was there, on a new-looking label. Again he wondered why on earth she was living here but he couldn’t possibly ask after Erla’s unforgivable rudeness last time. He could have done on his first visit in the guise of Jónas the carpenter, but he hadn’t been in a fit state to notice anything unusual at the time. A memory surfaced of her asking his advice about the bathroom door, which was sticking. He had run his hand up and down the frame, trying to look knowledgeable. Luckily, at that point she had hiccupped and lost concentration, and soon they’d had other things on their mind than DIY. He really hoped she wouldn’t remember the incident.

  ‘Hello?’ Freyja’s voice sounded hollow and tinny on the entryphone.

  ‘Oh, hi. It’s Huldar. I’d like a few words. Is this a good moment?’

  There was no answer and he’d started to think she wasn’t going to let him in when the door suddenly buzzed. On his way upstairs he rehearsed what he was going to say. It was essential to make a better impression this time.

  Freyja was standing in the doorway, arms folded, her expression forbidding.

  She was wearing tight jeans, a T-shirt, stripy socks and pink, fluffy slippers. Her wavy blond hair was drawn into an unflattering bun on top of her head, which made her look taller. Evidently, she hadn’t been expecting guests. ‘Hello.’

  Huldar smiled, pretending not to notice the chilly reception, ‘Hi.’ He walked over and stood there like an idiot. ‘Any chance I could come in? I need to go over a few things. I promise it won’t take long.’

  Freyja narrowed her eyes, apparently wondering whether to believe him. She was a trained psychologist, so he had every reason to fear she would see right through him. But she stepped aside and ushered him in. He wasn’t sure if she had been taken in by his lie or simply couldn’t be bothered to stand there arguing. Never mind, he was inside. She told him not to bother removing his shoes. While he was taking off his coat, Molly appeared. She kept banging into his leg with her collar in her attempts to sniff at him. Only then did a smile light up Freyja’s face. It wasn’t the animal’s clumsy overtures but his winces of pain that amused her. Oh, well, he knew he deserved it.

  As he entered the hallway, Margrét appeared at the bedroom door. She stared at him, head on one side, which did nothing to relieve his discomfort.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Why are you here?’ Margrét’s face remained stony. ‘You’re the cop.’

  ‘Yes, I’m a cop. I don’t know about the cop.’

  ‘You’re the cop. I remember. The cop who pulled me out from under the bed.’ It was impossible to guess from her expression whether she was grateful or angry. He knew enough about children to be aware that their thought processes didn’t always follow the same paths as those of adults. She might be under the impression that none of this would have happened if only she had been allowed to stay under the bed.

  ‘Yes. I’m that cop. Quite right. You’re an observant girl.’ He remembered how she had screwed her eyes shut and kept them closed even when he dragged her out of her hiding place and held her in his arms, face pressed to his chest so she couldn’t see her dead
mother on the bed. She had refused to look at him so she had probably never seen his face; it must be his voice she recognised. Huldar smiled at her but received no answering smile. He didn’t blame her.

  ‘I saw those shoes. When I was under the bed.’ She stared at his feet, then raised anxious eyes. ‘There was a man in the garden just now. I saw him out of the window.’

  Huldar darted a sidelong glance at Freyja who was listening to their conversation, no doubt grateful not to have to talk to him. He swallowed, groping for the right note, then answered brightly: ‘That makes sense. It was me.’

  ‘You?’ Freyja glared. ‘What were you doing in the garden?’

  Margrét bit her lower lip, retreated into her room and slammed the door behind her.

  ‘You frightened her. Have you forgotten the man she saw in her garden at home? You could have warned me so I had time to make sure she wasn’t by the window. Now there’s a risk she’ll think you’re him.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Or the murderer.’

  ‘I was conducting an experiment.’ The words sounded feeble when spoken aloud. ‘I was testing how well our officer on guard duty is doing his job.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And?’ Huldar stalled.

  ‘And how did the experiment turn out?’

  ‘I expect you’d rather not know.’ Huldar hesitated, then said it anyway. ‘I made it into the lobby without him noticing.’

  ‘Jesus.’ Freyja exhaled. ‘Why did you come round? To conduct your experiment?’

  ‘No, that wasn’t the only reason. I wanted to tell you that we’ve spoken to your ex-boyfriend and established that he couldn’t have attacked the dog.’ Molly swung her head round and peered at him through her plastic collar, before returning her gaze to the closed door. ‘The message wasn’t sent from his phone and it turns out he had a watertight alibi.’