Found wanting, p.1
Found Wanting, page 1
Table of Contents
Cover
Copyright
Also by Robert Goddard
Found Wanting
LONDON
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
BRUXELLES
Chapter Five
KÖLN
Chapter Six
HAMBURG
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
ÅRHUS
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
KØBENHAVN
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
STOCKHOLM
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
ÖSTERSJÖN – ITÄMERI
Chapter Thirty-Four
HELSINKI
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
PÄIJÄNNE
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
JYVÄSKYLÄ
Chapter Fifty-One
COWES
Chapter Fifty-Two
Author’s Note
Other books by this author
This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Version 1.0
Epub ISBN 9781407056005
www.randomhouse.co.uk
TRANSWORLD PUBLISHERS
61–63 Uxbridge Road, London W5 5SA
A Random House Group Company
www.rbooks.co.uk
FOUND WANTING
A CORGI BOOK: 9780552159852
First published in Great Britain in 2008 by Bantam Press an imprint of Transworld Publishers Corgi edition published 2009
Copyright © Robert and Vaunda Goddard 2008
Robert Goddard has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Addresses for Random House Group Ltd companies outside the UK can be found at: www.randomhouse.co.uk
The Random House Group Ltd Reg. No. 954009
The Random House Group Limited supports The Forest Stewardship Council (FSC), the leading international forest certification organisation. All our titles that are printed on Greenpeace approved FSC certified paper carry the FSC logo. Our paper procurement policy can be found at www.rbooks.co.uk/environment
Typeset in 11.5/15pt Giovanni Book by
Falcon Oast Graphic Art Ltd.
Printed in the UK by CPI Cox & Wyman, Reading, RG1 8EX.
2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1
Also by Robert Goddard
In order of publication
PAST CARING
A young graduate starts to investigate the fall from grace of an Edwardian cabinet minister and sets in train a bizarre and violent chain of events.
‘A hornet’s nest of jealousy, blackmail and violence. Engrossing’
DAILY MAIL
IN PALE BATTALIONS
An extraordinary story unfolds as Leonora Galloway strives to solve the mystery of her father’s death, her mother’s unhappy childhood and a First World War murder.
‘A novel of numerous twists and turns and surprises’
SUNDAY TELEGRAPH
PAINTING THE DARKNESS
On a mild autumn afternoon in 1882, William Trenchard’s life changes for ever with the arrival of an unexpected stranger.
‘Explodes into action’
SUNDAY INDEPENDENT
INTO THE BLUE
When a young woman disappears and Harry Barnett is accused of her murder he has no option but to try and discover what led her to vanish into the blue.
‘A cracker, twisting, turning and exploding with real skill’
DAILY MIRROR
TAKE NO FAREWELL
September 1923, and architect Geoffrey Staddon must return to the house called Clouds Frome, his first important commission,
to confront the dark secret that it holds.
‘A master storyteller’
INDEPENDENT ON SUNDAY
HAND IN GLOVE
The death of a young English poet in the Spanish Civil
War casts a shadow forward over half a century.
‘Cliff-hanging entertainment’
GUARDIAN
GLOSED CIRCLE
1931, and two English fraudsters on a transatlantic liner stumble into deep trouble when they target a young heiress.
‘Full of thuggery and skulduggery, cross and doublecross, plot and counter-plot’
INDEPENDENT
BORROWED TIME
A brief encounter with a stranger who is murdered soon afterwards draws Robin Timariot into the complex relationships and motives of the dead woman’s family and friends.
‘An atmosphere of taut menace. . .heightened by shadows of betrayal and revenge’
DAILY TELEGRAPH
OUT OF THE SUN
Harry Barnett becomes entangled in a sinister conspiracy when he learns that the son he never knew he had is languishing in hospital in a coma.
‘Brilliantly plotted, full of good, traditional storytelling values’
MAIL ON SUNDAY
BEYOND RECALL
The scion of a wealthy Cornish dynasty reinvestigates a 1947 murder
and begins to doubt the official version of events.
‘Satisfyingly complex. . .finishes in a rollercoaster of twists’
DAILY TELEGRAPH
CAUGHT IN THE LIGHT
A photographer’s obsession with a femme fatale leads him into a web of double jeopardy.
‘A spellbinding foray into the real-life game of truth and consequences’
THE TIMES
SET IN STONE
A strange house links past and present, a murder, a political scandal and an unexplained tragedy.
‘A heady blend of mystery and adventure’
OXFORD TIMES
SEA CHANGE
A spell-binding mystery involving a mysterious package, murder and
financial scandal, set in 18th-century London, Amsterdam and Rome.
‘Engrossing, storytelling of a very high order’
OBSERVER
DYING TO TELL
A missing document, a forty-year-old murder and the Great Train Robbery all seem to have connections with a modern-day disappearance.
‘Gripping. . .woven together with more twists than a country lane’
DAILY MAIL
DAYS WITHOUT NUMBER
Once Nick Paleologus has excavated a terrible secret from his archaeologist father’s career, nothing will ever be the same again.
‘Fuses history with crime, guilty consciences and human fallibility. . . an intelligent escapist delight’
THE TIMES
PLAY TO THE END
Actor Toby Flood finds himself a player in a much bigger game when he investigates a man who appears to be a stalker.
‘An absorbing display of craftsmanship’
SUNDAY TIMES
SIGHT UNSEEN
An innocent bystander is pulled into a mystery which takes over twenty years to unravel when he witnesses the abduction of a child.
‘A typically taut tale of wrecked lives, family tragedy, historical quirks and moral consequences’
THE TIMES
NEVER GO BACK
The convivial atmosphere of a reunion weekend is shattered by an apparent suicide.
‘Meticulous planning, well-drawn characters and an immaculate sense of place. . . A satisfying number of twists and shocks’
THE TIMES
NAME
A centuries old mystery is about to unravel. . .
‘Mysterious, dramatic, intricate, fascinating and unputdownable’
DAILY MIRROR
LONDON
ONE
The sky over Whitehall is doughy grey, the air chill and granular. It is a Monday morning in early February, yet winter has seemingly only just begun after a dank, extended autumn. The cold is almost a tonic for Richard Eusden as he emerges from the Churchill Café, mug of strong black coffee in hand, and sits down at one of the pavement tables. He drops his briefcase beside his chair, sinks his chin within the sheltering collar of his overcoat and lets the warmth of the coffee seep into his palm as he surveys the familiar scene.
The traffic is thinner than usual, but slow-moving nonetheless, thanks to the pelican crossing adjacent to the café. It beeps and blinks in service to the dark-suited men and women crossing in both directions who are bound for their desks and work places in the ministries either side of Whitehall. Many already have their security passes dangling round their necks, their identities surrendered and declared, their working weeks about to begin in variations on an institutionalized theme.
Richard Eusden’s security pass is still in his pocket. He will take it out only when he is most of the way down King Charles Street and turning into the Foreign Office staff entrance. The delay is a small assertion of his individuality, pitifully small in all conscience, but one of the few open to him. A civil servant closing fast on fifty with an index-linked pension no longer an unimaginably distant prospect cannot afford to cock a snook at the government machine he is undeniably part of. But there is no need to rush to take his place within it this morning. It is not yet 8.30. His train was neither late nor overcrowded. He is feeling less than usually travel-worn. He sips his coffee and tries to savour the moment. He knows he should put it to more obviously practical use, if only for the benefit of any of his colleagues who may pass by. There are file notes in his case he intended to study – but did not – in the course of the weekend. He could profitably cast an eye over them now. Staring into space is perhaps not the wisest image to project in the ever more image-conscious culture that has engulfed his profession. But still he goes on staring, through the plume of steam rising from his coffee.
The truth, he recognized long ago, was that he should never have become a civil servant. Deep within his soul he lacks the vital capacity to think the conventional thought – and to believe it. Having become one, he should have quit once he realized his mistake. He should have dropped out, travelled the world, searched for something else – anything else – to do with his life. But he had just married then and assumed he would have children, who would need the comfort and security his career could supply. And by the time that and a number of other assumptions about his marriage had been confounded, he had persuaded himself it was too late to make the break. More accurately, it was too easy to refrain from making the effort. Now it really is too late. Life, he is well aware, is what you make of it. And this is what he has made of his. He is smartly dressed and well-groomed. He is not losing his hair or running to fat. His blue eyes still glisten. His brain is still sharp. By most people’s standards, he leads an enviable existence. He tries to remind himself of this as he contemplates the predictable day and unsurprising week that lie ahead of him. He needs a change, but he does not expect to get it. He takes a deeper swallow of coffee and sets the mug down on the table.
His fingers are barely free of the mug handle when three short blasts on a car horn snap his attention to the other side of the street. A pea-green Mazda is cruising slowly through the pelican crossing as the light flashes amber. The driver’s window is opening and a face coming into view that Eusden senses he is on the brink of recognizing, only for a dirty red slab of bendy bus to cut off the view.
The bus slows for traffic ahead and merely crawls forward. It is an open question to Eusden whether he will see the Mazda again. It may already be past the Cenotaph and heading towards Trafalgar Square. He knows nobody who drives such a car. He has no concrete reason for supposing the horn was sounded for his benefit. The incident seems about to de-spool into the ebb and flow of the morning.
But it does not. The Mazda completes a fast and illegal U-turn into the bus lane as the blockage to Eusden’s view finally removes itself. The car jolts to a halt at the pavement’s edge, the driver waving through the windscreen to attract Eusden’s attention. He starts with astonishment. The driver is Gemma, his ex-wife. He has not seen or spoken to her for several years. They have, she memorably assured him the last time they met, nothing to say to each other. The clear implication of her manner on that occasion was that they never would have. Something has changed her mind – something urgent, to judge by her behaviour.
‘Richard,’ she shouts through the open window. ‘Get in.’
Eusden grabs his case, jumps up and strides across to the car, stooping to engage Gemma at eye-level. She looks, if anything, younger than he remembers. Her hair is shorter, her face slightly thinner, her skin clear, aglow with health. She is dressed in a black tracksuit and trainers. She appears what she is: fit, energetic, intent.
‘Get in,’ she repeats.
‘I’m on my way to the office,’ Eusden objects, though with little force. He already badly wants her not to drive away without him.
‘Sod the office. Will you please just get in the car?’ Her tone is impatient, but her gaze is pleading. She needs him. For once, she really does. ‘Please, Richard.’
A double-decker is bearing down on them along the bus lane. Something has to give. He hesitates, then opens the door and climbs into the car. Gemma accelerates away, tyres squealing.
‘Sorry,’ she says, though whether she is apologizing for her driving or her unannounced reappearance in his life is hard to tell.
‘What’s going on, Gemma?’ Eusden asks, buckling his seat belt as they swerve into Parliament Square.
‘I was looking for somewhere to park when I saw you. We have to talk.’
‘What about?’
‘Marty.’
Marty Hewitson. Eusden’s childhood friend. Gemma’s other ex-husband. Of all the subjects under the sun, Marty should be the last she wants to broach between them.
‘He’s asked me to do something for him.’ She keeps to the right, circling the square, looking ahead, avoiding any danger of meeting Eusden’s eyes. ‘I want you to do it instead.’
