‘Money. I earn my living as a contract killer. Ships are my workplace. There’s nowhere else I can kill more quickly and safely, or dispose of the bodies more easily. And the cruise line even actively helps me cover up the crimes. It couldn’t be better. I work on twelve different giants of the seas. Sometimes as an employee, sometimes as a passenger. Recently I’ve been spending more time on the Sultan because I really did fall in love with Daniel. But I’m afraid that’s over now too, as I’m sure you can imagine.’

Martin felt as if his senses were playing tricks on him, as if he were still taking the PEP pills. His mouth was dry. The scratching sounds now seemed to be coming from the back door he’d entered the house by.

‘Do you find your clients on the internet?’ he asked Elena as he moved over to the garden door.

‘Yes,’ she said. Her voice became softer, but as clear as a bell, as if she were in the neighbouring room. ‘Here I was actually fibbing. The firm disguised as a travel agency belongs to me, not Shahla. It’s a brilliant system, even if I’ll probably have to make some modifications now, but so far my clients have simply booked a passage for those they wish to get out of the way, and I’ve taken care of the target once they’re on board.’

Martin was surprised to hear her so talkative. He sensed she was trying to play for time, but why? What was she up to?

‘With Naomi Lamar I was paid by Anouk’s grandfather, who’d got to the truth of the mother’s atrocities.’

‘And who booked you in for a two-month ordeal?’ Martin pressed her. He had to speak louder for Elena to understand him, though she didn’t seem bothered that he’d strayed from her field of view for a while. He gazed into the garden through a window by the door. A mangy dog was padding languidly around the pool. Had it been scratching at the door?

‘The grandfather wanted Naomi, before she died, to experience physically what the daughter had gone through. But that’s not my thing. Shahla took care of that. I don’t enjoy torture. As I said, for me it’s all about money.’

‘So who paid for you to kill my wife?’ Martin asked, on his way back to the television.

‘Nobody,’ Elena said. ‘It happened just as you read it. By chance Shahla caught Nadja indecently assaulting your son. The sight of it tore open the wounds her own mother had inflicted on her. She flipped out when she saw what your wife was doing to Timmy.’

In the background Martin could hear a gentle hubbub. Elena was phoning from a public place. She was probably sitting in an anonymous internet café.