‘You’ve no idea where he is?’ pressed Straub.

‘None at all, I’m afraid. I’ll just have to… keep looking.’

‘He didn’t happen to open the case in front of you, did he?’ asked Regina.

‘No such luck. I actually know less about the contents of the case than I imagine you two do.’

‘There will come a time to put that right if you can locate it,’ said Straub, holding Eusden’s gaze.

‘Amen to that,’ said Regina, gulping some wine. ‘It could be the answer to our prayers.’

Regina ordered a dessert after the main courses were cleared, then adjourned to powder her nose. It was a moment Eusden had been preparing himself for, when he and Straub could drop the pretences they had both been maintaining. And Straub had obviously been preparing for it as well. The second the door leading to the loo had closed behind her, he launched in.

‘Are you about to repay me the ten thousand euros, Richard?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Marty did not leave the money at my mother’s apartment. Therefore he accepted it. But he did not deliver his side of the bargain. Where is the real attaché case?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You expect me to believe that?’

‘Not really. But it is true. He told me the real case would be waiting for him in Amsterdam and he encouraged me to go back to London, just like I told you. But I’d been put through so much by then, thanks to the tricks the pair of you were playing on each other, that I decided, after setting off for the airport, to go back and demand a slice of whatever the contents of the case were worth. I reckoned I was owed that.’ Straub’s expression suggested he found this credible. Eusden was gambling that a confession of greed on his part would be more convincing than anything else. ‘I’ve been ripped off by Marty a good few times over the years. The ten thou is obviously nothing to what he and you think the letters will fetch. So, why shouldn’t I get a cut of the action?’

‘It is a… an understandable point of view, I would have to admit.’ Straub’s tone hinted at relief. He was comfortable with venality. He knew how to deal with it.

‘I thought I’d be able to catch up with Marty at the station, but he wasn’t waiting for the Amsterdam train. It was pure luck I was in the right place at the right moment to see him leaving for Copenhagen.’

‘And where was that place, Richard?’ The question, apparently trivial, was actually a vital piece of fact-checking. Straub knew Hamburg central station as well as a native of the city would.

‘I was on the walkway above the platforms. The train had pulled out before I could get down there. I came after him by the next train. I think it’s pretty clear he had the case sent here, not Amsterdam, don’t you?’

‘It would seem so, certainly.’

‘If I can find him, I’m sure I can persuade him to rope me in. But into what? He’s a dying man, Werner. I doubt he has the energy, the resources or the contacts that you do. In other words, I doubt he can get such a good price as you can.’

A smile flickered around Straub’s mouth. ‘Are you proposing some kind of deal, Richard?’

‘I’ll track him down sooner or later. When I do, I’ll contact you. After all, you’re the one with the buyer in place, aren’t you?’

‘True. And here she comes.’ Straub dropped his voice to add: ‘Very well, Richard. We are agreed. But find Marty soon, no? The quicker the better, for all of us.’

‘You two are looking kinda conspiratorial,’ said Regina, as she shimmied back into her seat. ‘Should I be worried?’

‘Not at all,’ Straub replied. ‘Though perhaps disappointed. Richard has decided he cannot visit Hvidøre with us. He must continue his search for Marty.’

‘That’s a real shame. But… I guess I understand. Lord knows, we want you to find him.’

‘We do,’ Straub glanced intently at Eusden. ‘Indeed we do.’

TWENTY-TWO

Eusden woke early the following morning. He made some coffee and drank it gazing out at the roofs of Copenhagen, wondering whether it was better to wait for Marty to call, or try his luck again with the Århus Kommunehospital switchboard. There was a lot Marty had to know before he arrived in Copenhagen. If he arrived in Copenhagen. The news that Straub was lying in wait for him might put him off the idea altogether.

In the event, Marty rang before Eusden had finished his coffee. ‘I’m getting out of here today whatever the sawbones says,’ he announced. ‘I spoke to Kjeldsen yesterday. He’s expecting you at eleven o’clock. I also spoke to Bernie. He’s going to insist Vicky returns to London. When he snaps his fingers, his daughters jump, so that’s a problem solved. I guess it’ll be mid- to late afternoon before I make it to Copenhagen. No need to come to the station. I’ll meet you at the Phoenix.’

But that was not a good idea, as Eusden set about explaining. And Straub’s presence in the city was not the only cause of concern. Eusden also had to report Burgaard’s fatal so-called accident. Marty was singularly unfazed, however.

‘You’re getting better at this, Richard. You seem to have played Werner like a fish on a line. Well, you’re right, of course. The Phoenix is obviously out. I’ll tell you what. There’s a Hilton at Copenhagen airport. I’ll book myself in there. It’s only a quarter of an hour from the centre and it’s the last place Werner would think of looking; he knows I won’t be coming or going by plane. He’ll be out at Klampenborg with Regina when you collect the case and you can take a taxi to the Hilton later. I’ll call you when I know what time I’ll be arriving. As for Burgaard, good riddance. It’s bloody lucky you weren’t in the car. But don’t overreact. It sounds like it was an accident to me: cocky Karsten putting his foot down when he should’ve been watching out for black ice. Serves the treacherous little bastard right. No sense getting paranoid at this stage, hey?’

‘There’s a big difference between paranoia and commonsense cautiousness.’ Marty’s unquenchable optimism was beginning to worry Eusden. Did the doctors have him on happy pills? ‘What about Straub’s hired heavy? Shouldn’t we be asking ourselves if he might start tailing me now his boss knows I’m in town?’

‘He was Hamburg muscle, Richard. Werner will have paid him off long since.’

‘You’re sure of that, are you?’

‘OK, OK. Keep a look out for a bald-headed seven-footer built like a wardrobe. You see what I’m saying? He was taken on for enforcement, not surveillance. You’d spot him a mile off. Werner would have to buy in local talent and he can’t do that while he’s got his hands full with the widow Celeste. Everything’s going to be fine. I’m feeling heaps better and Kjeldsen’s going to give you the name of a reliable and discreet translator. We’ve got this in the bag, Richard. All we have to do is hold our nerve.’

It sounded simple and straightforward as Marty put it. Eusden could not decide whether it was merely the pessimistic nature Marty had always attributed to him that accounted for his suspicion that the day would somehow turn out otherwise.

Marty would certainly not have been surprised that he arrived absurdly early for his appointment with Kjeldsen – and without a single glimpse of a mountainous German dogging his footsteps. Jorcks Passage was an old, narrow arcade of shops, with offices on the floors above, linking Strøget with Skindergade. A board at the Strøget end listed the occupants, among them Anders Kjeldsen, advokat. Eusden whiled away half an hour in a nearby coffee shop, then went up in a tiny wheezing lift to the lawyer’s third-floor lair.

The door was ajar. Eusden tapped and pushed it further open. A heavily built man clad in a baggy grey suit was standing by the window of a disorderly, paper-strewn office, smoking a cigarette and gazing down into the arcade. He had long hair matching the colour of his suit tied back in a ponytail and a doleful, jowly, pockmarked face. The creak of the door seemed to catch his attention where the tap had not.