Name To a Face Read Free

probably right.”
    He
was
right. There was no doubt about it. The real doubt surrounded the question of whether Barney knew why Harding could be so certain on the point. And that doubt seemed to have been growing recently, to a degree guilt alone could not explain.
    “Black, no sugar?” They had reached the kitchen, fitted out like the lounge in the very latest style and its most expensive version.
    “Please.”
    Tozer flicked a couple of switches above the slate worktop. A kettle roared into life. A grinder devoured a hopperful of beans. In less than a minute, the coffee was brewing. Tozer lit a cigarette during the interval, not troubling to offer one to Harding, a confirmed non-smoker.
    “Planning something new for the garden, Barney?”
    “Hardly. That’s Carol’s province.”
    “I just thought-”
    “I didn’t ask you round to discuss bloody pot plants.”
    “No. I guessed not.”
    “I bet you did.” Tozer looked thoughtfully at him through a plume of cigarette smoke. “What’s old Barney up to now, hey? What bee has he got in his bonnet?” He chuckled, pushed down the plunger on the cafetière and poured their coffees, adding sugar to his own. “Let’s sit down.”
    They settled round a corner of the large table at the far end of the room. Harding sipped his coffee, which was as excellent as ever-Colombian, he reckoned. Tozer flicked ash into a wooden ashtray the diameter of a dinner plate and glanced at his watch. There was in the movement the first hint of nervousness on his part.
    “I’m ever so slightly pushed for time, actually, Tim. Tony’s due in an hour. We’re off on a ’ forty-eight to Abu Dhabi.” Tony Whybrow, who had occasionally and somewhat halfheartedly joined them on their periodic boys’ nights out, was Starburst’s finance director and the only other representative of the company Harding had ever actually met. “Work, work, work, hey?”
    “But money, money, money.”
    “Yeah. Anyway, like I say…” Tozer took another puff at his cigarette and started on the coffee. “Fact is, I need to ask you a favour.”
    “Go ahead.”
    “Thing is… Have I ever mentioned my brother?”
    Had he? Harding had asked himself exactly that question during the drive from Villefranche. “Well, I know you have a brother, so… either you or Carol…”
    “Humphrey. Humphrey and Barnabas, hey? Bloody stupid names. But Barney’s OK. Suits me, so I’ve been told. As for Humphrey, I used to call him Humpty when we were children. He’s five years older than me. I couldn’t get my mouth round the sound, see? And then there was the nursery rhyme. So, I thought Humpty was…” Tozer shrugged. “Funny.”
    “Where does Humphrey live?”
    “Humph. That’s what I settled for in the end. He’s still stuck in Penzance.” Tozer’s roots in west Cornwall had definitely been mentioned to Harding, more than once. “Have you even been to Penzance, Tim? I can’t remember if I’ve asked you.”
    “Neither can I. But, yeah, I have. For what it’s worth. A family holiday in Cornwall when I was ten. We stayed near Land’s End. Sennen Cove. Must have gone through Penzance, but all I can recollect is a view of St. Michael’s Mount. Does that count?”
    “Bet it rained a lot.”
    “It did, as a matter of fact.”
    “No surprise there.”
    “So, this favour… has to do with… Humph?”
    “Yeah. A narrow-minded misery-guts if ever there was one. But…” Tozer gazed past Harding into some unfocused vision of his childhood. “He is my flesh and blood.” His face creased into a rueful smile. “Worse luck.”
    “And…”
    “He’s asked for my help. My… personal help. That’s some kind of world record, so I don’t want to disappoint him. But it would mean I’d have to go to Penzance. Right away.”
    “And you have business in Abu Dhabi?”
    “Oh, that could be postponed. No, no. That’s not the problem. It’s a… tax thing.” Tozer lowered his voice, as if, despite the fact