Found Wanting

SIX

Avec Thalys, découvrez le plaisir de voyager à votre rythme en Europe. So the blurb declared in the timetable that Eusden had received along with his ticket to Cologne. But pleasure and rhythm were a long way from his grasp. Reassurance and logic, which he would have settled for, were also nowhere to be found. As the high-speed Thalys bulleted them east through the late afternoon and early evening, he struggled to get the measure of his companion – without success.

Extracting information from Werner Straub was as easy as grabbing an eel. The man had a gift for turning every question back on the questioner. There was little doubt in Eusden’s mind by the time their journey ended that Straub had learnt far more than he had revealed, particularly about Clem Hewitson, despite Eusden’s efforts to be as reticent as possible.

Nor had a message left on his phone by Gemma done anything to relieve his difficulty. Guessing she might ignore his request to wait for him to call her, he had switched it to voicemail and run a check during a visit to the loo. Sure enough, she had been in touch, though not to much purpose.

‘What’s going on, Richard? Monica said you sounded anxious. Sorry I didn’t tell you I was going to call Marty and warn him you’d be there instead of me. I actually only did it on the spur of the moment. Anyway, I didn’t get to speak to him. But he must have told you that himself. I suppose he did get my message, didn’t he? Of course he did. Otherwise you wouldn’t know about it. You must be on your way back by now. Call me when you get in.’

It was a bone-cold evening in Cologne. They exited the station on to a wind-swept piazza beneath the soaring, spired mass of the cathedral. According to Straub, the Hotel Ernst was only a short walk away and for that Eusden was grateful.

It looked as swanky a place as its room rates implied. The glitter of the lobby suggested there would be plentiful creature comforts to compensate him for the inconvenience of being there. Marty was obviously not in the business of saving his pennies – or his cents. But then, as Eusden sombrely reminded himself, his friend did not have much of a future he needed to worry about.

‘I will go straight up and see how Marty is,’ said Straub, steering him gently away from the reception desk. ‘Wait in the bar, Richard.’

‘I may as well check in.’

‘Do that later. If Marty is feeling better, he will want to see you right away.’ Straub smiled. ‘He will probably want to buy you a drink.’

Eusden was too weary from their verbal fencing match on the train to argue. And he certainly needed a drink. He headed for the bar, while Straub made for the lift.

Five minutes elapsed while Eusden made swift inroads into a large gin and tonic, which he fully intended to charge to Marty’s room. The bar was low-lit and wood-panelled, the atmosphere soothing. He began to devise a suitably barbed greeting for his friend. Then Straub walked in – alone.

‘How is he?’ Eusden asked as Straub sat down beside him.

Straub gave an enigmatic little smile. ‘I do not know.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘Marty is not here, Richard.’

‘Not here? Are you saying… he’s gone out?’

‘Not exactly.’ The waiter appeared. Straub ordered a drink, then returned his attention to Eusden, dropping his voice to a confidential murmur. ‘I will explain the situation to you, Richard. But I must ask you to remain calm – and quiet – while I do so. Marty’s welfare depends on you doing that.’

‘What?’

‘I am serious.’ The intensity of Straub’s gaze left no room for doubt on the point. ‘Marty needs you to behave sensibly. His life is at stake. You understand?’

‘No, I don’t understand. What the hell-’

‘Calm and quiet.’ Straub propped his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers, cocking his head slightly as he looked Eusden in the eye. ‘Are you going to be?’ The question was suffused with a threat that was all the greater for being unspecified – and uttered sotto voce.

‘I’m listening,’ said Eusden levelly.

‘Good. Now-’ Straub broke off as his drink arrived: a blood-red Campari. Coasters and complimentary nuts were adjusted by the waiter in a pregnant hush. Then he glided away. And Straub resumed. ‘Marty did not come to Cologne yesterday, Richard. I travelled here alone. I booked in under his name. I brought his phone with me. That is how I knew you would be waiting for him in Brussels.’

‘How did-’

‘Please.’ Straub silenced him with an emphatic, chopping gesture. ‘We do not have much time. I will tell you everything you need to know. Marty is in Hamburg. He is locked inside my mother’s apartment. He is tied to a chair with his mouth taped. He has been there’ – Straub consulted his watch – ‘for nearly twenty-four hours. My mother is away on holiday, you see. She will not be back until the middle of next week. So, no one will find Marty in time to save him from death by dehydration.’

‘You… must be joking.’

‘I am not. You can save him, Richard. In fact, only you can save him. I have a key in my pocket that will open a left-luggage locker at Hamburg central station. Inside the locker is a set of keys to the apartment, with a tag tied to them. The address is written on the tag. There is a train to Hamburg at twenty-one ten. It will arrive at one fifteen tomorrow morning. You should be on it. If your friendship with Marty means anything to you, you will be. Naturally, I require something in return for the key. I require the attaché case.’ Straub sat back and raised his glass. ‘Prost.’ He took a sip.

Eusden stared at him, unable for the moment to formulate a response. The man surely had to be mad to go to such lengths. Though perhaps he had not gone to such lengths. There was always a chance that this was merely a ruse to trick Eusden into surrendering the case. But why? What could the case possibly contain that made sense of all this?

‘Perhaps you do not believe me,’ said Straub, reading his mind with discomfiting accuracy. ‘If so, you will find this interesting.’ He took his phone out, pressed some buttons and held it out so that Eusden could see the screen. ‘A captured image that will dispel any doubts.’

Eusden squinted at the screen. And there was Marty, older and gaunter than he remembered, but still instantly recognizable by his mop of curly hair and the jut of his brow. He was dressed in jeans, sweatshirt and trainers and was sitting in an upright wooden chair, his ankles roped to the legs, his shoulders pulled back, his wrists bound out of sight behind him. There was a shiny smear where his mouth was covered by a strip of tape and a length of rope stretched taut from the back of the chair to an anchoring point out of shot. The setting appeared to be some kind of domestic interior. And the picture came complete with a timer display that proved it had been taken the previous night: 22:32, 04.02.07.

Straub withdrew the phone and slipped it back into his jacket. ‘The case, Richard. I must have it.’

‘You won’t get away with this.’

‘I think I will. Marty will not want you to go to the police. Take my word for that. Better still, ask Marty when you see him.’

‘He’s not a well man. You know he isn’t. How’s he going to stand up to the ordeal you’re putting him through?’

‘Go and find out.’

‘You’re a cold-hearted bastard, aren’t you?’

Straub looked as if he found the accusation faintly flattering. ‘The case, Richard. I will have it now, please.’

Eusden hesitated for a moment. But the simple if unpalatable truth was that he had no choice. He picked up the attaché case and handed it over.

‘Thank you.’ Straub laid it on the table in front of him. From his pocket he took a small key and unlocked the catches. Eusden could see nothing of the contents when he raised the lid. There was a sound of papers being riffled through, then Straub gave a frowning nod. ‘Good,’ he said, closing the case and relocking it. He smiled. ‘Excellent, in fact.’

‘You have your… collectable?’

‘I do.’

‘I hope you think it’s worth what you’ve done.’

‘There is no doubt that it is.’ Straub delved in another pocket. When he reached across the table and opened his hand, Eusden saw a different key resting in his palm, larger and chunkier than the one that had opened the case. ‘Locker number forty-three, Richard. Time you were going, I think. You need to catch that train. They empty the lockers after twenty-four hours. I engaged it this morning at eight o’clock. So, you need to be there before eight o’clock tomorrow morning. The twenty-one ten is the last train tonight. You cannot afford to miss it. I suggest you start for the station. Now.’