Reles uttered a profound sigh that almost made me feel sorry for him. I could see he regretted having to kill her. But I’d given him no choice. That much was now obvious. He leveled the gun and fired after her. It sounded like a cannon on a pirate ship. The shot took her down like a cheetah tripping a gazelle, and her head seemed to explode with a pinkish thought made entirely of blood and brains.

He fired again, but this time he wasn’t aiming the gun at Dora Bauer. Facing me, she was lying in a pool of thick, dark red that was already spreading across the deck, twitching slightly, but probably dead. The second shot hit Gerhard Krempel. It took him by surprise and lifted the crown of his head like the top of a hard-boiled egg. The impact was such that it flipped him over the rail of the boat and into the water.

A strong smell of cordite filled the air and mixed neatly with the acrid scent of my own mortal fear.

“Aw, shit,” moaned Reles, staring over the side. “And I was going to weigh them down together. Like something from an opera. One of those fucking German operas that go on forever.” He made the gun safe, and dropped it on its lanyard. “I guess I’ll have to leave him be. Can’t be helped. Dora, on the other hand. Dora?”

He walked fastidiously around the pool of blood and kicked the back of her head softly with the toe of his white shoe, and then kicked it a little harder, as if making quite certain she was dead. Her eyes, still wide with fear, remained motionless, staring at me accusingly, as if she held me entirely responsible for what had happened to her. And she was right, of course. Reles could never have trusted her.

He came over and inspected my ankles and then untied the rope that was attached to the three concrete blocks. Then he tied it tightly around her shapely ankles.

“I don’t know why you’re looking like that, Gunther. I’m not going to kill you. Of course, that makes it your fault she’s dead.”

“What makes you think you can afford to let me live?” I asked, trying to contain my very real fear that, in spite of what I’d said by way of a threat, and what he’d said by way of an answer, he was going to kill me anyway.

“You mean, what’s to stop you from sending that letter to the Gestapo anyway if you manage to come out of this alive?”

I nodded.