Robert Goddard - Found Wanting

‘Wrong, actually. I was thinking of having another beer. Richard?’

‘No, thanks,’ said Eusden, nodding meaningfully towards the door, currently hidden from view by the muscleman’s massive shoulderline. ‘I think we ought to be going.’

‘Really?’

‘Definitely.’

‘OK.’ Marty grinned at Michael. ‘We’ll obviously have to do this another time.’

‘Fuck off, man.’

‘What exactly did that accomplish?’ asked Eusden as they headed back to the Royal.

Marty chuckled. ‘It’s got the introductions out of the way.’

Eusden was woken the following morning by the insistent ringing of the telephone. His first thought was that the caller must be Gemma. Then he remembered he had not told her where they were. By that time, he had picked up the receiver.

‘Hello?’

‘Mr Eusden. Reception here. Will you take a call from a Mr Burgaard?’

He was too fuddled by sleep to consider refusing. ‘OK. Put him through.’ Burgaard? Who the hell was he?

‘Mr Eusden?’

‘Yeah.’

‘My name’s Karsten Burgaard.’ His English had less of an American accent than Michael Aksden’s, though he did not sound much older. ‘Can you meet me?’

‘What?’

‘Now, I mean. I’m in the Baresso coffee bar. By the bridge in Sankt Clemens Torv.’

‘Where?’

‘Ask at the desk. It’s not far.’

‘But… who are you?’

‘I overheard your… conversation with Michael Aksden… last night. Then I… followed you back to your hotel.’

‘You followed us?’

‘Yes. But come alone, hey? Your friend is… rather loud.’

‘I don’t understand. What d’you want?’

‘Come and find out.’

‘Hold on. I-’ But Burgaard had not held on. The line was dead.

Eusden struggled to order his thoughts as he washed and dressed. Marty would insist on going along if he alerted him to what had happened. And Burgaard had a point. He could be loud. Eusden was still irritated by how blithely Marty had provoked Michael Aksden. Perhaps the time had come to demonstrate the merits of diplomacy and restraint. He headed out as instructed – alone.

Århusers were making their way to work in scarfed and muffled silence, exhaled breath pluming around them in the frigid dawn air. Eusden hurried the short distance to the Baresso Kaffebar and spotted Burgaard before he even entered, watching him through the window as he approached.

Burgaard was one of only two customers. The other was buying latte and a muffin to go. Several others had arrived, with the same to-go look about them, by the time Eusden had bought his coffee and joined Burgaard by the window.

‘Thanks for coming, Mr Eusden,’ said Burgaard, smiling nervously. He was a thin, slightly built, prematurely balding young man with a round, boyish face and a skittering, uncertain gaze. His fingernails, Eusden noticed, were chewed to the quick. He was dressed anonymously in shades of brown and grey.

‘Well, like you said, it wasn’t far.’

‘No. It’s a small city.’ Burgaard seemed to be scanning the queue at the counter over Eusden’s shoulder. ‘Too small, maybe.’

‘Your home town?’

‘No. I’m from Falster. I came here… to study. At the University.’

‘What’s your subject?’

‘Economics.’ As if to prove the point, Burgaard had a pink business paper folded open at his elbow.

‘Uh-huh.’

‘You probably don’t remember seeing me last night.’

‘You’re right. I don’t.’

‘People generally… don’t notice me.’

‘How well d’you know Michael Aksden?’

‘Better than he’d like.’

‘What’s his subject?’

‘Economics also. Michael and I… started together. But I have my degree. I’m studying for a doctorate. Michael is… drifting.’ Burgaard shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter how long you take for a degree – or if you ever get one – when your father is Tolmar Aksden.’ He swivelled the paper round and tapped a headline. Eusden noticed the word Mjollnir. ‘It says “Mjollnir shares break through new barrier”.’

‘Own any?’

‘Some. But not enough. Anyway, I’m not interested in Mjollnir for investment, though maybe I should be. I’m interested in finding out why they do so well.’

‘The secret of their success?’

‘Exactly.’ Burgaard lowered his voice. ‘The secret.’

‘Why don’t you ask Michael?’

‘I have. He tells me nothing. I think he knows nothing. I ask him to arrange for me to meet his father. No. I ask him to arrange for me to meet someone who works with his father. Again, no. This is for my thesis, Mr Eusden. I have worked on this nearly two years. Mjollnir is… a phenomenon. But no one understands it. I have tried. But, you see, they do not want anyone to understand. Tolmar Aksden does not give interviews. He does not… give anything.’

‘Perhaps he’s just a gifted entrepreneur.’

‘His sort of entrepreneur normally likes to tell everyone how gifted he is. Not Tolmar Aksden. This paper calls him Den Usynlige Mand : the Invisible Man. Everyone admires him. But also everyone… distrusts him.’

‘Do they?’

‘Oh, yes, Mr Eusden. Just like you and your friend. What was that about last night? Mr Hewitson mentioned his grandfather… and Lars Aksden’s arrest in Roskilde. You and Mr Hewitson… know something. And I…’ Burgaard’s head twitched in a slight but palpable nervous convulsion. This was clearly the stage of their encounter he had been steeling himself for. ‘I would be grateful if you told me what it is.’

Eusden took a sip of coffee to camouflage a tactical pause, then smiled and said, ‘Why would I do that?’

‘Because I know things you don’t.’

‘Maybe we know it all.’

‘No. If you did, you wouldn’t have challenged Michael. And also… you wouldn’t have agreed to meet me this morning.’

‘Is that right?’

‘Yes. I think it is.’ Burgaard’s calculations were sound, even though he projected little confidence in them. ‘I propose… a trade.’

Another pause; another sip. ‘Propose away.’

‘I guess you’ve come to Århus because Lars is here. Near here, I mean. He has been ever since the… incident… in Roskilde. You’ve come to see him, haven’t you?’

‘Maybe.’

‘I want to be with you when you do.’

‘And you propose to buy your ringside seat with… information.’

‘Yes.’ Burgaard nodded. ‘A lot of information.’

Tolmar Aksden was born at the family farm, Aksdenhøj, in 1939. He trained as an engineer, but worked on the farm for some years before setting up Mjollnir in the early 1970s. Mjollnir’s ostensible business was plant hire, but from the very start, according to Burgaard, it seemed to be more of a general investment vehicle. Aksden began buying up disused industrial land in the Århus area and regenerating it as housing complexes and high-tech business parks. He was always one step ahead of the economic trend. By the 1980s he had taken over a shipyard and an electronics factory, which both appeared defunct but were transformed under Mjollnir into leaders in the fields of containerization and micro-processing. In the 1990s came the big leap for the company: acquisition of a Swedish hotel chain, a large Norwegian fish-farming operation and a Finnish timber producer. Mjollnir’s headquarters moved to Copenhagen and its reign as a pan-Scandinavian economic powerhouse began. Burgaard emphasized the shock element in this development. Aksden kept such a low profile that his competitors never saw him coming. His far-sightedness was envied, his ruthlessness feared. He was considered by many to be positively un-Danish in this regard, although ignorance of his true personality and the rarity of his sightings in public ensured criticism gave way to awe at his achievements and a certain mystique that attached itself to the Invisible Man of the Nordic business world.