‘You don’t wish you had, though.’

‘Never. I like my… small apartment in the city. It’s close to the shops. And to where I work.’

‘And where’s that?’

‘I’m HR director of a charity called Uddanne Afrika. We ship educational equipment to… wherever it’s needed in Africa. Which is all over, really. Have you ever been there, Richard?’

‘Does Cape Town count?’

‘No.’

‘Then, I haven’t.’

‘You should. I’ve stood in schoolrooms in Burkina Faso and looked at the children’s faces and realized… I was doing something really worth doing… at last.’

‘It sounds like a good feeling.’

‘It is. You ought to try it. Birgitte said you work at the Foreign Ministry in London, yes?’

‘For my sins.’

‘How long for?’

‘Nearly thirty years.’

‘We could use someone with your experience at Uddanne Afrika.’

‘Are you offering me a job?’

‘I’m offering you the chance to change your life. But maybe… you don’t want to change it.’

‘I think I do, actually. I think I want to quite badly.’

‘Then, you should give me a call… when this is over.’

They parted at the door to Pernille’s suite with subdued goodnights. Eusden headed down to his lower-deck cabin light-headed with fatigue and fragile hopefulness. Pernille Madsen was, as she had made clear to him, a dangerous woman to become emotionally attached to. There was no reason to regard her proposition as anything more than an opportunity to switch career paths. But the elation he felt at knowing that their acquaintance need not end tomorrow was undeniable. He doubted it was shared. But that made it no easier to stifle.

HELSINKI

THIRTY-FIVE

Helsinki was white from recent snowfall, the shoreline dividing the city from the snow-carpeted sea ice hard to discern. The sky was a featureless dome of bruised cloud. There were no shadows in the thin winter light. Even sounds were subdued in the Finnish winter morning. The Gabriella docked at ten. By 10.30 Eusden and Pernille Madsen had checked into the Grand Marina Hotel, a stylishly converted warehouse a short distance from the Viking Line terminal. Waiting for them there was Mjollnir’s man on the scene, Osmo Koskinen.

He was seventy or so, with a sad, drooping face and rheumy eyes offset by an eager smile. He had grey, slicked-down hair and a bowed air of lifelong dutifulness. His flapping brown suit appeared to date from a time when he had carried more weight. This, his pasty complexion and a faint tremor in his hands and voice implied he might not be in the best of health. Nevertheless, as a former senior employee of Mjollnir’s Finnish subsidiary, he was, Eusden assumed, deemed to be the perfect combination of detachment and reliability required for the job in hand.

Koskinen lightly acknowledged as much over coffee in Pernille’s harbour-facing suite. ‘Birgitte Grøn has asked me to look after you, Ms Madsen. And you also, Mr Eusden. I am retired now, but Mjollnir still use me for… special business… from time to time. I do not know what dealings they have had with the people you will meet later. I do not need to know. But I have made all the arrangements Birgitte asked me to make. First, though, my apologies. You should be staying at the Kämp. It is Helsinki’s finest and most historic hotel. And I should be showing you the sights of the city. I have lived here all my life. But they tell me we must be… discreet. A hotel near the ferry terminal and no unnecessary movement. Those were my instructions. So, I am sorry. But I fixed it like I was told.’

‘Don’t worry about it, Hr Koskinen,’ said Pernille, gazing past him through the window. ‘We’re not here to enjoy ourselves.’

‘No. It’s a pity. But I understand.’

‘What are the arrangements?’ asked Eusden.

‘Of course. The arrangements. The payment will be made in US dollar bearer bonds. I do not know the value. Again, I do not need to know. I will collect them from the bank Birgitte is using at two this afternoon. I will deliver them to you here at two thirty. They will be in a secure combination-locked case. The exchange will take place at three thirty at my house in Munkkiniemi. The address is Luumitie twenty-seven. I have marked it for you.’ Koskinen spread out a street map of Helsinki on the table between them. A red X marked the spot in a north-western suburb. ‘This is where we are now.’ He pointed to the location of the hotel, out on the Katajanokka peninsula, on the other side of the city. ‘Erik Lund is supplying security and a lawyer to supervise the exchange. His name is Juha Matalainen. He will travel with you. The combination of the case will be phoned through to him when you have inspected the material delivered by the other side, Mr Eusden. Ms Madsen will take charge of the material. The other side will take their money. The exchange will be complete. Everyone leaves.’ He smiled. ‘Then I will return home and cook my dinner.’

‘It’s kind of you to let your house be used for this,’ said Pernille.

‘Oh, I am pleased to help. It is really Mjollnir’s house, to tell the truth. I would probably be in a one-room apartment if they had not been so… generous to me. A good employer is as important as a good wife, they…’ Koskinen broke off, apparently reflecting on Pernille’s status as his former boss’s former spouse. He coughed awkwardly. ‘Well, there it is. Everything should be… very straightforward.’

‘Exactly what sort of security is… Erik Lund… laying on?’ asked Eusden, catching Pernille’s eye. She seemed amused by Koskinen’s discomfiture.

‘Enough, Mr Eusden, I assure you. You will be able to see for yourself when you arrive at the house.’

‘I’m sure it’ll be more than enough,’ said Pernille. ‘These people only want the money, after all.’

‘Yes.’ Koskinen smiled. ‘Exactly.’

‘And until two thirty?’

‘I have to ask you to stay here, Ms Madsen. Your husband – I mean, Hr Aksden – is in the city. Birgitte told me we must… be careful.’

‘Of course.’

‘But there is a trip for you to take, Mr Eusden.’

‘Really?’

‘Matalainen’s office. To sign a… confidentiality agreement. To say you will… never talk about the material you will see this afternoon.’

‘Is that necessary?’ asked Pernille. There was an edge of irritation in her voice.

Koskinen gestured helplessly with his hands. ‘It is not my decision. Do you… object, Mr Eusden?’

‘What if I do?’

‘Then we have… a problem.’

Eusden took a slow walk to the window and back to mull the point over. The reason Birgitte Grøn had said nothing about such a formality was obvious. The less warning he had, the less likely he was to argue. Once the material was in Mjollnir’s hands, nothing he said about it could be proven anyway, even supposing he gleaned anything at all from letters written in Danish, which was doubtful in the extreme. His signature on a piece of paper was more or less irrelevant. A refusal to supply it would only complicate matters that all concerned wanted to keep as uncomplicated as possible.

‘Do we have a problem, Mr Eusden?’

‘No, no. I’ll sign on the dotted line. When’s Matalainen expecting me?’

The answer was that Koskinen proposed to take Eusden to Matalainen’s office straight away. He said he would wait for him in reception and took his leave.

‘Birgitte should have told me about this,’ said Pernille as soon as the door had closed behind him.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Eusden, finishing his coffee. ‘What matters is that the handover goes smoothly. The set-up sounds good to me. What do you think?’

‘Yes. It sounds good.’

‘So, I’m the lucky one. I get a morning stroll while you stay cooped up here.’

‘Call me when you get back. I’m going to take a bath. It’ll help me stay calm.’ She sighed and ran her fingers down over her face. ‘I think I might need to get drunk tonight, Richard. Want to join me?’