Read Online Someone to Watch Over Me by Yrsa Sigurðardóttir - Free Book Online Page B

listeners?’ The damn clock must be broken. Time simply refused to pass.
    ‘Do you want the listeners to hear what I have to say?’ The caller paused. ‘I’m not sure you do.’
    Margeir wasn’t used to letting listeners throw him off balance. He couldn’t deny he often found them tiresome, but he always kept his composure. This call, however, was nothing like the ones he was used to; the voice was calm and level but somehow unpleasant, as if the man was about to burst into mocking laughter. ‘Hey, I think our time’s up. Karl will be on in a minute, so if you’re lucky you can call back and have a chat with him.’ Margeir should have just said ‘goodbye’ and hung up, but he paused long enough for the eerily composed man to speak again.
    ‘Be careful.’ The voice sounded odd, and Margeir suddenly wondered if it was a woman, or even a child, pretending to be a man. ‘Soon there will be a reckoning and it won’t be pretty. Did you think this was over?’
    ‘This? What do you mean, “this”?’ Again Margeir knew he was being unprofessional; he should be cutting the caller off, not encouraging him.
    ‘You should know.’ There was a quiet chuckle, which stopped as suddenly as it had started. ‘What do you do when you get too drunk, these days? Things aren’t going that well, are they, one way and another?’ The man’s breathing got heavy and ragged, then he said: ‘I’m so hot. I’m burning up.’
    Margeir had had enough. ‘OK, thanks, pal.’ He disconnected the line. ‘That’s it from me. I’m leaving you now, listeners, but I hope we can meet here tomorrow evening at the same time. Good night.’ He tore off his headphones and played the programme’s theme music, then stood up, his knees weak. He ran back through the brief conversation in his mind but couldn’t put his finger on exactly what had caught him off balance unless it was the voice itself, which had been impossible to read. It was unusually calm, completely at odds with the voices of the other listeners who called in. That must be it. He was tired and bored and fed up with everything at the moment. He moved down to the other end of the table, where the producer usually sat, and lifted the little handset that displayed the callers’ numbers. He checked the most recent one, but the little screen showed only the letters:
P.No
for Private Number. Margeir gnawed the inside of his cheek and stared at the screen. The flesh was bumpy there, scarred by the nervous habit even though he hadn’t done it for many years. Now his teeth caught on the scars.
    ‘Hi! Sorry I’m late. Damn car was playing up again.’ The next DJ in the schedule had arrived without Margeir realizing. The man’s loud greeting startled Margeir and he had to take a deep breath before answering.
    ‘I was just going to put on a pre-record.’ Margeir put down the caller-ID gadget. ‘My outro music is still playing, so you have a few seconds.’
    ‘Who was that nutjob at the end? I was listening to it in the car. Man, I hope he doesn’t take your advice and call me too.’
    Without knowing why, Margeir felt sure that wasn’t going to happen. His instinct told him the caller thought he had business with him, not the other hosts. He felt uneasy as he walked out to the dark car park. In his mind the abhorrent thought took hold that he knew exactly what the caller had been talking about, and as soon as he was in his car he quickly locked the door.
    ‘Is she asleep?’ Svava put down the pen and took off her reading glasses, happy to be able to take a break from peering at the small print. She had chosen the glasses at random in a petrol station and their strength was not right for her at all. She couldn’t put off making an appointment with the optician any longer.
    ‘Who?’ The young woman was one of the temps who moved from department to department, covering sick leave and holidays, so it was hardly surprising she didn’t know who Svava meant.
    ‘Room 7 , the