Hindsight is a wonderful thing. And a frustrating one. If they had stayed on the upper deck then Penfold might have waited. He might have stayed calm.

If they had just stayed with the other passengers. If they had just stayed in the sun.

Penfold’s decision was made the moment he saw them. The couple from the port. From the upper deck. The same man and woman Penfold had noticed before. They had seemed a little too interested, which had set off his survival instinct. Penfold had tried to ignore it; he had put it down to paranoia.

But what are they doing here? he questioned himself. When everyone else is upstairs? Too much of a coincidence.

Penfold got to his feet and for the first time he did not grip his rucksack. Instead he left it where it was, giving him two free hands.

Penfold directed his eyes at the floor as he began to walk towards the couple, keeping a single bench between himself and them so as not to be heading straight at them. Relying on his peripheral vision, Penfold could tell that the couple had remained standing: looking out of the window towards the approaching port and resolutely not looking at him.

It was this that finally convinced him. There were almost no passengers or crew members below deck. Of the few that were there, one was now walking towards them. They must have noticed him. Yet they kept their eyes averted. It wasn’t natural.

And told Penfold all he needed to know.

Three metres. Far enough for the couple to have time to defend themselves.

Two metres. Closer. Making defence more difficult. But not impossible.

One metre. Too close. It would take a miracle.

Penfold cleared the bench with a fast, powerful stride. His hands were outstretched as he moved. Aimed at the man’s head. A head that was now turning, but turning too slow.

The man stood no chance. Before he could react Penfold had both hands on his skull. The momentum that had taken Penfold over the bench was still with him. He used it well. With a combination of his own weight, his strength and the speed of his movement, Penfold brought the man’s head crashing into the thick metal rail that circled the whole lower deck.

The sound said everything. A deep, dull boom.

No bone could make that noise and stay intact. But Penfold already knew that. He had felt the give in the man’s skull and did not need the confirmation of sound before he turned on the woman.

It had taken Penfold a second to deal with the man. Long enough for the woman to turn; to know what was coming. She could have run. Perhaps she would have made it. She chose to do the opposite: to attack. Brave and foolish, all at once.

The weather had made a coat or a jacket impracticable, and so she had nowhere to carry a concealed weapon. Without one she could only attack with her hands. A lost cause, maybe, but she would go down fighting.