‘I’ve been swimming,’ Martin replied tersely, which seemed to be an adequate answer for the crazy cruise passenger as she didn’t quiz him further about his dripping clothing. ‘Okay, Frau Dobkowitz, Shahla…’ he said, nodding to the nervous chambermaid. ‘It’s been a hard day for all of us, and I’d like to be on my own now.’

To get out of these clothes. To take a hot shower. And a bathful of ibuprofen.

He’d squandered the last of his energy shaking off the helping hand of the young British woman who’d pulled him from the pool and, amidst the laughter of the group who thought he was smashed, hobbling back to the naturist deck, where the man who’d heaved him over the railings had long since vanished.

But Martin had recovered his mobile phone. It must have dropped from his hand as he fell. The display was a little cracked, but it was still working. As he’d bent down painfully to pick it up, he saw that the Skype programme was still open. In the box for sending text messages, the attacker had left him this:

Timmy is dead. Next time you will be too.

First Elena and now him. Both of them had received their warnings. Of course it didn’t worry Martin one bit, but if he didn’t get at least an hour’s sleep now, soon he’d no longer be able to find his own shoelace, let alone the person who evidently knew the background to his family’s disappearance.

‘Let’s continue tomorrow morning,’ he told Gerlinde, but she wasn’t listening.

‘Tell him what happened,’ she prompted Shahla.

Shahla cleared her throat, but didn’t say anything. She was clearly terrified.

‘Heavens, I imagine she’s completely messed up,’ Gerlinde groused. Then, turning to the cleaning lady, she said, ‘You were almost killed, my child, and that was just shortly after you’d seen Anouk Lamar come back from the dead in the middle of the night. For goodness’ sake, Shahla, it cannot be a coincidence. If you don’t want to talk to me, then talk to this man here.’ She pointed at Martin. ‘Tell him who it was. He’s from the police; he can help you.’

Shahla stoically shook her head, her lips firmly pressed together.

Martin knew that the chambermaid was nowhere near ready to discuss the incident, especially not with a stranger. As he was not in a state at that moment to conduct a sensitive interrogation, he said. ‘Why don’t we speak again when we’ve all had some rest?’

‘Fine,’ Gerlinde said, which sounded like What bloody sissies! ‘Well, then, I beg you to at least have a look at the torch, so that my journey here hasn’t been a complete waste of time.’

‘What torch?’