Robert Goddard - Found Wanting

He waited for them at the end of one row of graves, brushing snow off a memorial stone as they approached.

‘Lars’ parents and grandparents,’ he explained, pointing to the inscription. ‘Listed in the order of their deaths.’

HANNAH AKSDEN † 14.10.1947

PEDER AKSDEN † 23.3.1948

GERTRUD AKSDEN † 29.8.1963

OLUF AKSDEN † 1.9.1967

‘Pretty bloody terse,’ commented Marty.

‘Yes,’ said Burgaard. ‘Even for Lutherans. And see – just the dates of death; no dates of birth; no ages at death.’

‘So?’

‘It’s unusual.’

‘Maybe they were paying by the letter.’

‘Is there more to it, Karsten?’ asked Eusden, confident there had to be.

‘Oh, yes. Much more. But shall we talk in the car? It’s cold out here.’

There was no argument about that. Eusden sat in the front with Burgaard. Marty took the back seat. Burgaard whirled round when he heard Marty fumbling in his pocket for his matches. There was already a cigarette in his mouth.

‘Please don’t smoke, Mr Hewitson. I am astmatiker.’

‘Pardon me,’ groaned Marty, dolefully replacing the cigarette in his pack.

‘What are you going to tell us, Karsten?’ Eusden prompted.

‘One thing. And I expect one other thing in return.’

‘We’ll see,’ said Marty.

‘I want all information you have on your grandfather.’

‘OK.’ Marty’s agreement sounded suspiciously airy to Eusden.

‘All right. Saukko Bank. The coincidence. I found out everything I could about Hakon Nydahl when I realized he was Tolmar Aksden’s great-uncle. As a courtier, I wondered if he’d… done Tolmar any favours. Nothing turned up. But there was a strange event… just before he died. Summer of 1961. He was in hospital by then. He never came out. While he was there, his housekeeper was arrested for stealing money from his apartment. He had a safe and she knew the combination. The papers got interested in the case because what she stole was… very unusual money. Finnish markkaa, nineteen thirties issue. She’d tried to change it for Danish kroner, but the notes were no longer legal tender. Also, she was trying to change a massive amount: several millions in kroner. She didn’t realize how much the notes were worth – or would have been worth. No one could understand why Nydahl should have had all this out-of-date Finnish money. He was too ill to be asked for an explanation. But during the case they reported that the Bank of Finland had traced the serial numbers on the notes to a batch of currency supplied in 1939 to-’

‘Saukko Bank,’ said Eusden.

‘Yes. Exactly. Saukko. Now owned by Tolmar Aksden.’

‘You think that’s why he bought it?’

‘Somehow, yes. There’s a connection. I just can’t… work it out. But maybe I can… if I know all there is to know about Clem Hewitson.’

‘It’s possible,’ said Marty. ‘But here’s the deal, Karsten. I’m expecting a call later today. I’m hoping it’ll join up the dots in what we know about Clem’s relationship with Nydahl.’

‘Join up the dots?’ Burgaard frowned dubiously at Marty over his shoulder. So did Eusden. What call? What the hell was Marty playing at?

‘Once that’s done, we should be in business. Know what I mean?’

‘No. Just give me all you have so far.’

‘No point. I don’t want to run the risk of… unintentionally misleading you.’ Marty’s smile, doubtless intended to be reassuring, looked patently disingenuous to Eusden. ‘By tonight, everything should be clearer. And I’ll be happy to share it with you. Now, what about that gravestone?’

Burgaard’s mouth tightened. ‘Do you think I’m a fool, Mr Hewitson?’

‘Of course not.’

‘You get nothing more till I get something.’

‘No need to be like that.’

‘Yes, there is. You’ve cheated me. You promised me information.’

‘And you’ll get it.’ Marty leant forward and looked Burgaard in the eye. ‘Tonight.’

The journey back to Århus was a wordless ordeal. Burgaard drove fast and tensely, like a man simmering with resentment, as Eusden had no doubt he was. Eusden was feeling pretty resentful himself. Marty was stringing him along as well as Burgaard. This had always been the way of it, of course. Marty had never been able to resist playing the role of smart arse. Several of the more infuriating passages of their friendship replayed themselves in Eusden’s memory as they sped through the Jutland countryside.

Eusden had assumed Burgaard would drop them at their hotel, but he noticed after they had entered the city that they were on a ring road, skirting the centre, and soon the university campus appeared to their right. Soon after that, they pulled into a car park behind a cluster of multi-storey red-brick accommodation blocks.

‘I’ll expect to see you tonight, then,’ said Burgaard as they climbed out, his voice flat and expressionless. ‘I’ll be waiting for your call.’ With that he plodded off towards the entrance of the nearest block.

‘How are we supposed to get back to the Royal?’ Marty called after him.

‘Take the bus. Or walk. I don’t care.’

‘Thanks a lot.’

Burgaard’s answer to that was a V-sign, delivered without a backward glance. Eusden could hardly blame him. And even Marty seemed to consider further protest pointless. He lit a cigarette as they watched Burgaard vanish indoors.

‘Why don’t we try to track down a restaurant over there?’ Marty nodded in the direction of the shopping street they had turned off a few minutes previously. ‘We’ll feel better after we’ve had something to eat and drink.’

Eusden looked at him unsmilingly. ‘Why not?’

A dismal pizza parlour was the best they could find so far from the city centre. Eusden contained himself while food was ordered and beer delivered to their table, then let Marty have it.

‘What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, giving Burgaard the runaround like that? The poor bloke’s offering to help you.’

‘It couldn’t be avoided,’ Marty replied, beaming at Eusden over his glass of Carlsberg.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Like I told him: I’m waiting for a phone call.’

‘That was true?’

‘Certainly.’

‘You never mentioned any call to me.’

‘You never mentioned your rendezvous with clever clogs Karsten until after the event.’

‘And that’s how I’d have got to hear about the call?’

‘Yeah. What’s the problem?’

‘Who’s the call from?’

‘You don’t need to know just yet. I’m hoping for… some good news. Let’s leave it like that.’

‘You’re not going to tell me?’

‘I’d rather not. It’d be tempting fate.’

‘Well, I’d rather you did. It’s bad enough keeping Burgaard in the dark. I’m supposed to be your friend.’

‘Calm down, Richard. You’re ranting.’

It was true, in the sense that Eusden’s voice had risen steadily during their exchanges. He noticed the waiter peering apprehensively round the kitchen blind. He tried to stifle some of the anger he felt.

‘You reckon I’m handling Burgaard badly, do you?’ Marty asked.

‘Yes. There was more he’d have told us if you’d offered him something in return.’

‘More of the same, in all likelihood. That stuff about Nydahl’s cache of Finnish currency? Old news, I’m afraid.’

‘You already knew?’

‘Sure. It was about the only interesting fact I dug up on the man.’

‘When were you planning to tell me about it?’

‘I thought I had. In fact, I meant to congratulate you on acting dumb so convincingly.’

‘You said you found out nothing about him.’