What did he understand? Icelandic?Thóra tried not to let her irritation show, although she had spent longer than was healthy on the phone today. ‘So, did you have this phone conversation with Markus?’ she asked. ‘It matters a great deal that you tell the truth, and that you tell the story correctly. You won’t do Markus any favours by making something up, if he’s remembered this wrong. You also need to let me know what phone you called him from, so the police can verify it.’
‘Ummm,’ muttered the man.‘Yes, I called him. Wait a minute,’ he said, and Thóra heard a rustling of papers. ‘It’s here somewhere,’ came the voice over the line, and then: ‘Ah. Here it is.’
‘Here what is?’ asked Thóra.
‘I was looking for the offer we discussed. It expired at eight o’clock on the eighth of July, so that fits perfectly. I called him when it became clear that the sellers wouldn’t accept it. That’s not strange, because it was quite low. Markus didn’t particularly like the apartment, although I understand that his boy was excited about it.’
‘So you called him,’ said Thóra, trying to direct the man back to what mattered. ‘You called him, on his mobile?’
‘Yes,’ said the agent.‘That’s the only number I have for him, I think.’
‘And you can confirm that he was the one you spoke to?’ she persevered.
‘Not someone else using his phone?’
‘Yes, I spoke to him. Absolutely,’ said the man resolutely. ‘We talked a bit about what would happen next, but he was driving, so he couldn’t talk for very long.’
Thóra looked up at the sky, thrilled. He could not only confirm that Markus had had his phone, but also that he had been driving. ‘And what number did you call from?’ she asked.
‘My mobile,’ the agent replied.‘It was after work and I had come home. I have an unlisted number so it wouldn’t have shown up on Markus’s screen, if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘That’s great,’ said Thóra. She explained that he would have to confirm this with the police, and asked him to keep the offer paperwork somewhere safe, in case there was any need for it.
‘Do you know if Markus is still thinking of buying an apartment?’ asked the young man, sounding anxious.‘We weren’t able to close a deal that evening. I actually have a lot of new property for sale, damn good places, actually. He wouldn’t want to miss this opportunity. I know things are hard for him at the moment and I’ll try to keep things open for him, but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold off other buyers.’
Thóra smiled to herself.‘I’m pretty sure Markus has other things on his mind at the moment, but I expect he’ll be thinking about it again soon. You can try to reach him by phone after the weekend. Hopefully all this will be over by then.’
After saying goodbye she called Stefán, rather pleased with herself. The only dilemma she had was what to tell him about first: the pool of blood, or her conversation with the estate agent.
Chapter Twenty-nine
The excavation site was completely silent, except for the creaking beneath Thóra and Bella’s shoes as they walked through the slag on the pathway. It was as if they were travelling through a deep valley: nothing could be seen of the world around them apart from a clear sky and the faint traces of a street that had disappeared from the surface of the earth a third of a century ago. Thóra couldn’t block out the uncomfortable feeling that they were being watched through the broken windows of the empty houses as they walked by. Of course she knew that there was not a living soul here apart from herself and Bella; nevertheless she was plagued by unease. She got goosebumps when a light breeze stirred a loose paper plate lying in front of a little house. The house looked as if it had once been yellow, but the catastrophe that had overwhelmed it had given it a dull green appearance. This decrepit shack looked so sad and neglected that Thóra had to stop for a moment and stare at it. It was easy to imagine a dust-covered middle-aged woman standing at the window in her dressing-gown, waiting for life to pick up where it had left off in January 1973. Thóra shook off the image. She wasn’t used to letting her imagination lead her astray – it must be the guilt she was feeling over their business in the area. At best, it was immoral. The oppressive silence also played a part. Thóra was so unused to it. In the quiet neighbourhood where she lived one could always hear the sound of traffic – even at night an indistinct hum from cars driving down the surrounding streets managed to reach her ears. Here, there was no sound, although the town was just below them and people would barely have gone to bed. Ash and slag clearly swallowed all the noise, even the squeaking of their shoes. It was like watching television with the sound muted. Thóra and Bella said nothing on the way to Markus’s childhood home. Their conversation had petered out around the time they reached this street and were met by its silence. Thóra even grabbed Bella’s shoulder and pointed when they stopped in front of Markus’s house, instead of telling her they had reached their destination. She realized how ridiculous this was and tried to make up for it by breaking the silence: ‘It’s this one,’ she whispered, even though whispering had not been her intention.
Bella stared silently at the house.‘Come on,’ said Thóra, slightly louder now. She clambered over the tape, and Bella followed. ‘This’ll be no problem,’said Thóra, more to persuade herself than her secretary. What if the archaeologists turned up, or had set up security cameras to track any unwelcome visitors? No matter how she tried, Thóra could not think up any excuse for their presence here. They did have a reason for doing this, but wisdom told Thóra that it was a dubious one. The old man would probably stare at the stuff they brought back with the same dull gaze he turned on everything else put in front of him. If they even managed to find what they were looking for.
They came to the door and stood there for a few moments without saying anything, checking to make sure their torches were working just as well as when they had set off a quarter of an hour before.
Bella turned her light on and off for the third time. ‘Are you sure it’s safe?’ she asked, looking at the door. The oak was deeply scarred and appeared to have bent under weight or heat. Large, slender windows on both sides of the doorway were boarded with dented sheets of corrugated iron, remainders of Magnus’s attempts to save his family’s home. ‘I don’t like this, and I don’t understand why I have to go in. I’ll just keep watch, like last time. The house is collapsing.’Bella’s voice was plaintive and she pushed loosely at an iron sheet to back up her fears. As she had no doubt intended, the sheet fell with a dull crash, and she had to step aside to avoid it hitting her. ‘You see,’ she said triumphantly.
‘Don’t be an idiot,’ said Thóra. ‘The sheet was put up in an emergency to prevent ash from coming into the house. The house itself is secure, and it isn’t going anywhere.’ Thóra didn’t want to go in again, not at all, and wanted Bella there as back-up. She didn’t feel comfortable going down into the dark basement alone; if she had someone with her to talk to she could pretend everything was fine. ‘Let’s go, it’ll be fun once we’re in.’ Thóra pushed the door with her foot, and it opened with a faint creak. Dust and soot whirled in the beam from her torch.
‘It must be really dangerous to breathe in this dust,’ said Bella.
‘Since when did you start worrying about that?’ asked Thóra. ‘If you wait outside you’ll have several cigarettes, so it’ll probably be a nice rest for your lungs in here.’ She took a few steps into the house, then turned and looked at Bella through the murky air. It was as if she’d jumped inside an old-fashioned coal stove and shut the door. ‘Come on,’ she said, beckoning.