‘What a fucking coward you are!’ he said to Bonhoeffer. ‘If you’re telling the truth, what you’ve just revealed to me is that Yegor Kalinin is about to kill a young girl for reasons of profit and then pin the murder on me while you stand by without lifting a finger.’

The captain pulled another paper towel from the dispenser and held it beneath the tap. ‘Once more: I want to stop all that from happening. But yes, if I can’t then I’m not going to sacrifice myself for you, Herr Schwartz.’

He scrunched up the wet towel and threw it unused into the sink. ‘You sued me. You ruined my reputation. I was suspended, almost lost my job – and much more besides. There’s nothing I like about you. If this all goes tits-up then I’m not going to jail for you. And that would be the guaranteed outcome as soon as I turned against Yegor.’

Martin grabbed his shoulder and pulled the captain towards him. He forced Bonhoeffer to look him in the eye.

‘What’s he got on you?’

Bonhoeffer shook his hand away, then carefully touched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He looked as if he had to come to a decision. As if he were deliberating.

‘A video,’ he said eventually.

‘What’s on it?’

‘The hull of the Sultan. It’s the tape from the security camera that shows, amongst other things, the balcony cabin your wife was staying in. And which I was supposed to delete for Yegor.’

Martin felt the Sultan list sideways.

‘What are you trying to say?’

Bonhoeffer nodded. ‘I gave him the original and now my fingerprints are on the tape.’

Martin froze.

‘Does it show…’

… the death of my family?

The words stuck in his throat.

The captain nodded. ‘I’ll prove that I don’t want to work against you, but in cooperation,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a copy of the tape. You can watch it.’

25

A little puff of grey. The last image of his child, before he vanished forever. No colour, form or contours. Just a small, grey cloud, caught by a camera, its lens dotted with a number of raindrops partly amplifying, partly distorting the picture.

The first cloud that came away like a shadowy veil from the starboard side of the rear third of the ship must have been Timmy.

My son!

Martin was standing so close to the television that he was able to see the individual pixels of what was anyway a pale recording, and he got an inkling of what those people must have felt who saw their relatives leap to their deaths on September 11.