‘Tell the WSP launch to stand by. If Anna wanted us to pull her out, she would have given us the signal.’

Maria lifted the radio handset but did not transmit. ‘You sure about this, Paul?’

‘Tell them to stand by. But I want them to make sure they maintain visual contact, even if there’s a risk of being spotted. I don’t want Anna to be beyond our reach.’

‘I think you’re right to let it go, Paul. The boat was a nasty surprise, but now we’ve got the water police out there we’re back in control of the game.’ Maria paused for a moment. ‘If you wanted, we could get water-borne ourselves …’

Paul shook his head. ‘No. They’ll be coming back to land … one way or another. And it makes sense that he’ll come back to his berth here. I want to be on his back as soon as he does.’

MacSwain hit a button on the broad white dash next to the boat’s wheel. The navigational lights and the cockpit courtesy lights came back on. He held out the bottle of Sekt and raised an eyebrow. Anna held out her glass.

‘You not having any?’ she asked, checking, as far as she could without being obvious, that it was the same bottle that had been opened before the lights had been put out.

MacSwain smiled. ‘One glass only when I’m in charge of the vessel … but please, you go ahead.’

He filled her glass and replaced the bottle in its ice bucket. Anna took a sip of the wine. Was there something there that wasn’t there before? An aftertaste? She felt a cold sweat prickle on her brow and held the wine in her mouth, pushing the analytical capabilities of her palate to the limit. Anna swallowed the wine, bringing her panic-button phrase back again to the front of her mind, like a life preserver to be seized and clung to at the first suggestion of submersion. She smiled weakly at MacSwain, whose expression remained blank and unreadable. The moment passed. There was no dizziness, no foggy feeling.

‘How long have you been interested in boats?’ It was all Anna could think of to say.

‘Oh … since I was a kid. My father used to take me out sailing in Scotland. I’ve always been around boats and the water. I love it.’

‘Are you close to your father?’

MacSwain laughed. ‘No one is close to my father. He is a cold fish. We never really got on. I was sent away to boarding school and only saw my parents during the holidays. Even then, apart from taking me along with him when he went sailing, or tagging along on holidays abroad, my father didn’t have much time for me.’ He gave a philosophical shrug. ‘My mother’s German and I have always had more to do with her side of the family. Would you like something more to eat?’

‘No thanks … It must be tough … for a guy, that is, when you don’t have a good relationship with your father.’