‘Yes. So?’

‘The Opposition may try to sell us fakes. They’ve already demonstrated they can’t be relied on to deal fairly. We need someone who can authenticate the material. We need you.’

‘I may have seen it, but I haven’t studied it. I wouldn’t necessarily know whether it was all there.’

‘You’ll have to do the best you can. We have no one else we can use.’

‘You mean you have no one else you can blackmail into taking the risk that these people may do what they did to Kjeldsen and Norvig all over again.’

‘That’s unlikely. Kjeldsen and Norvig were selling. We’re buying.’

‘Nice distinction.’

‘An important one. Besides, the Opposition won’t want to lose any more men. I doubt last night’s… exposure… will have pleased them.’

‘It didn’t exactly please me.’

‘We appreciate that, Mr Eusden. You have my personal apology for involving you. I regret there’s no alternative.’

‘There is for me. Maybe I’d rather take my chances with the police than a faceless bunch of hoodlums from who knows where.’

‘I wouldn’t advise it. Think of your career, Mr Eusden. Think of your pension. Think of the months of uncertainty about what charge you’d face – or what sentence if convicted. We’re offering you a much better deal.’

‘It doesn’t sound like it.’

‘That’s because I haven’t finished. We’re not asking you to pick up the material on a deserted quayside in the middle of the night. Everything will be done in controlled surroundings. There’ll be no danger.’

‘So you say.’

‘To prove it, we’re sending someone with you.’ Eusden looked doubtfully at Lund. ‘Who?’

‘Not me,’ growled Lund.

‘Mjollnir can’t be linked with this, Mr Eusden,’ said Birgitte. ‘We have to have… deniability.’

Did Tolmar Aksden know what his subordinate was doing? Eusden was still uncertain on the point. Birgitte Grøn had been at pains to emphasize that it was Mjollnir’s interests she was serving. Maybe she saw a crucial distinction between them and those of the company’s founder. ‘I suppose this conversation isn’t actually taking place.’

‘You suppose correctly.’

‘Who are you sending with me, then?’

‘Pernille Madsen.’

‘Tolmar’s ex-wife?’

‘Yes.’

This was a surprise, to put it mildly. And one which only heightened Eusden’s suspicion that Tolmar Aksden himself had been left out of the loop. ‘Why her?’

‘Interesting question. It suggests you really haven’t studied the material. The damage would be to all members of our CEO’s family, particularly his son. Pernille is a loving mother. She wants to protect her child.’ Birgitte delicately cleared her throat. ‘I would do the same in her position.’

‘And what exactly is it you expect her – expect us – to do?’

‘Pernille has been fully briefed. She’ll tell you all you need to know when you need to know it.’

‘Marvellous.’

‘Erik has pointed out to me that we need to minimize the possibility of third-party involvement.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Straub,’ said Lund, in a tone that suggested it was Danish for a drain blockage.

‘He flew to Oslo this morning,’ said Birgitte. ‘Do you know why?’

There seemed no point pretending not to. The effort of deciding how much to reveal and how much to conceal had already exhausted Eusden. ‘I knew he’d left, but not where he’d gone. As to why, I think Marty agreed to meet him there, but I doubt he meant to keep the appointment. It was a way of getting Straub off our backs until we could reclaim the… material… from Kjeldsen.’ He shrugged. ‘A lot of things went wrong.’

‘Straub’s American friend, Mrs Celeste, has also left Copenhagen.’

‘She’s not important.’

‘We’ll have to take your word for that. But you’ll agree Straub is – or could be – a nuisance.’

‘Not in Oslo.’

‘He’ll be back soon, though, won’t he? And he’ll expect you to explain why Mr Hewitson didn’t show up. So, we need you to be… out of his reach. We’d like you to phone the Phoenix Hotel and tell them you’re sending someone to collect your belongings and settle your bill. We’ll supply the someone.’

‘Where am I going?’

‘Tonight, Stockholm. Jørgen will drive you to the airport. You’ll catch the train there. You have to change at Malmö, where your belongings will be waiting for you. We’ve booked you into a hotel in Stockholm. Pernille will drive up tomorrow and meet you there. You’ll be travelling with her on the overnight ferry to Helsinki.’

‘Helsinki?’

‘Yes. The exchange will take place there on Monday.’

‘But Tolmar’s in Helsinki.’

‘Yes. The threat is clear. If we don’t meet the Opposition’s terms, they’ll give the material to the Finnish media. That would put our CEO – and us – in an impossible position.’

‘Shouldn’t you warn him to leave?’

‘The deal requires him to stay.’

‘He doesn’t know, does he?’

Lund plucked an envelope out of his pocket and slapped it down on the table. ‘Your travel documents,’ he said baldly, as if that was the only kind of answer to his question Eusden could expect.

‘The documents include a Finnair club-class ticket for a flight from Helsinki to London on Tuesday,’ said Birgitte. ‘Our business will have been safely concluded by then.’

‘How confident are you of that?’

‘Very.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

Eusden sighed and looked down at the envelope, then up at Birgitte. ‘I wish I was.’

‘We’re grateful for your cooperation, Mr Eusden.’ She treated him to another of her fleeting smiles that was like a shaft of sunlight through a blanket of cloud. ‘And now… we need to make a start if you’re going to catch that train.’

STOCKHOLM

THIRTY-TWO

‘It’s me.’

‘Richard? I’ve been waiting for you to call all evening. What’s going on? Your hotel said you checked out this afternoon.’

‘That’s true.’

‘Where are you now?’

‘Stockholm.’

‘What?’

‘I can’t explain, Gemma. I had to leave Copenhagen. I will explain, when I’m back in London. But I can’t now. The thing is-’

‘How could you leave Copenhagen just like that? What about Marty?’

‘There’s nothing I can do for him.’

‘Of course there is. There are arrangements to be made. Aunt Lily is desperate for news. She wants to know how and when he’s going to be flown to England. She’s hoping he can be buried on the Isle of Wight.’

‘Maybe he can. I don’t know.’

‘But you’re on the spot, Richard. Or you were. What did you tell the hospital?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Nothing?’

‘Marty died in a cathedral.’

‘I know that. What-’

‘Just like the babushka predicted.’

‘The who?’

‘The babushka. Don’t you remember? The old woman we met at the Orthodox Cathedral in Paris in September seventy-six.’

‘Never mind that. It’s the here and now that matters.’

‘If only it was so simple.’

‘For God’s sake pull yourself together, Richard. Why have you gone to Stockholm?’

‘Orders, I’m afraid.’

‘Orders? What the hell are you-’

‘I can’t talk any more, Gemma. Whatever arrangements need to be made, you’ll have to make them. There’s nothing I can do.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. This is-’

‘Sorry.’

Eusden stared at the telephone for a minute or more after putting it down, then rose and crossed the room. He slid the glass door open and stepped out on to the balcony. The night was still and cold, the lights of Stockholm bright and clear in the motionless air. He knew he should have handled the conversation with Gemma better. But fatigue and grief and anger had fed his reluctance to offer her anything by way of justification for his behaviour. He would make his peace with her in due course. He would have to. Meanwhile…

The cold had done its numbing work. He stepped back into the room and closed the door. He had dozed fitfully on the train and knew he would not sleep if he went to bed now, tired though he was. He decided to head down to the bar. The only way to cope with the night that lay ahead of him, alone in an anonymous hotel, mourning a friend and cursing his misfortune, was to blot it out as best he could.