That night Konradin had returned the girl to her mother. When she vanished just a few days later, he told Yegor how he’d sensed Anouk’s reluctance to go and that he’d felt sure she’d rather have stayed out on deck alone, despite the inclement weather and darkness. Back at the time, when they’d all assumed it was a case of extended suicide, Konradin thought that Anouk had anticipated her mother’s plans to kill them both. But now they knew the real reason why she didn’t want to be taken back to her mother that night.

‘How is it actually possible that this grannie out there is on our case?’ the surgeon asked.

Yegor groaned. ‘She isn’t. She just happened upon it by chance. That’s why she isn’t looking in the right place, but nearby.’

Where she’d bumped into Anouk.

The whole thing with this old woman was sheer lunacy!

Martin’s investigations had provided the FBI with a culprit and crime scene, even Anouk’s hiding place, which is why in the end the ship hadn’t been gone over with a fine-toothed comb. The FBI agents’ questions had been answered.

But not Gerlinde’s.

‘I thought the old bag was due to disembark some time ago,’ Konradin said.

‘No, she’s got another fortnight. Mallorca. As soon as we’re back in Europe.’

‘Fucking brilliant!’ The surgeon looked at his watch. ‘We won’t get the container out the back.’

Yegor nodded. There was an inconvenient stairway exit, which the surgeon had used to throw the leg over the handrail. But they couldn’t get Tayo off board that way.

‘We’ll have to wait till we’ve anchored. At some point the old nutcase out there is going to have to strike sail. We can…’ Konradin broke off mid-sentence and laughed. ‘Look! She’s buggering off.’

Indeed she was. Gerlinde had given up. Her wheelchair was moving away from their field of view.

Yegor followed her for a while with the adjustable camera and gave a grunt of satisfaction when she vanished into an open lift.

‘Let’s get going,’ he said. ‘Is Ta… er… Sandy good to go?’

The surgeon nodded. Then he went to fetch the client so that Yegor could say goodbye. A bit of fun that the ship owner never passed up on. Yegor loved the before–after comparison and feeling the power of setting someone out in a new life that he’d helped shape.

He opened the sparkling wine that he’d chilled for the occasion and filled three glasses. One for him. One for the surgeon. And the last one for the tall black man who had to duck to avoid banging his head on the cabin ceiling as he hobbled into the airlock on crutches.

*