At last, they were boarding the train. No hope of a sleeping berth or compartment to himself, but Vanderberg found the last seat in a carriage with a band of soldiers returning home on leave. It was a shabby compartment, the floor covered in ash and cigarette ends, the seats threadbare and the blacked-out windows filthy. He stuffed his single suitcase in the overhead rack and settled down with his book. Other men came in and found it was standing room only. At last Romy Dietrich appeared, too, the only woman. One of the soldiers immediately gave up his seat for her, and she thanked him decorously.

The train didn’t move. It was after midnight.

The soldiers were beginning to become loud and unruly, laughing about their grisly experiences out east, talking of Kiev and a ravine and the overheating of guns. It made for unpleasant listening, but Vanderberg could say or do nothing. He could not even afford to catch Romy’s eye. All he could hope was that their murderous stories were the braggadocio of young men showing off and trying to shock each other with invented tales of horror. He hauled down his suitcase and pulled out a bottle of rum, taking a swig before handing it around to the soldiers. Better to keep them on side than antagonise them. They gratefully accepted the drink and asked him where he was going. When he told them he was American on his way to Switzerland, one of them, a sergeant, said with a grin, ‘Before we start fighting you, yes?’

‘Hell, I don’t want to fight you guys. I love Germany.’

The sergeant shrugged. ‘But anyway, we fight.’

And then the police arrived, demanding papers.

*

Exhausted by the previous day’s drive through northern Germany and the gruelling trip out to the trawler, Wilde found sleep came easily. He awoke many hours later and the cabin was silent, which he hoped meant that Sunny and Klara had managed to doze off, too.

But the storm had not abated. If anything the vessel was pitching more violently as it carved a path through the steep waves. There was a light metallic rap at the door, which then opened. Yellow light came into the darkness from the companionway, silhouetting a man.

‘Mein Herr?’ the man said softly.

Wilde replied in German that he was indeed awake.

‘Komm mit mir, bitte.’