‘One deck lower. You can only get in from here if you unscrew the floor panels. Which happens once a year for maintenance,’ said the captain, who was now kneeling beside him. With his blond, tousled hair and the protective cap on his injured nose he resembled Hannibal Lecter. All that was missing were the straitjacket and hand truck he was secured to.

‘It’s probably a waste of time…’ Martin said.

‘Maybe not,’ Elena contradicted him. ‘What have we got to lose now that we’re here?’

‘Just a moment,’ the captain said, getting to his feet. He went over to a metal locker and opened it. Martin expected him to return with a toolbox, but when he came back he was holding a large torch. He kneeled beneath the platform again.

‘Found something?’ Martin asked, kneeling again too.

‘Maybe. There. Can you see it?’

Bonhoeffer shone the torch directly below the platform to the spot where the anchor chain disappeared into the deck below the large metal reel.

‘What is it?’ Elena asked excitedly.

‘Looks like a bag,’ Martin said. The torchlight was reflected by a crinkled surface of brownish plastic.

33

Martin stood, walked around the winch and squatted down. Here he was at least a couple of metres closer to the bag-like object stuck to the last visible link of the anchor chain. Lying flat on the ground, he tried to squeeze himself on the cold floor beneath the metal reel.

Hopeless.

Either he was too broad or the gap too narrow. He felt like he had that time as a child when a marble rolled under the cupboard and, with his short arms, he hadn’t been able to grab anything but fluff and dust.

‘Shall I try?’ he heard Elena ask behind him.

He looked up to her and nodded. ‘Maybe you’ll have more luck.’ At any rate she was considerably more petite than he was.

The doctor took off her jacket and blouse, beneath which she wore a white, sleeveless man’s shirt. Before lying on the ground she took off her jewellery, a chain with an oak-leaf pendant and a silver charm bracelet, which she wore on her right arm alongside her diving watch.

‘Phew, couldn’t get any tighter,’ she said as she lay on her stomach. She turned her head sideways, pressing her ear to the ground. ‘Nor any louder.’ She inched forwards to the target that Bonhoeffer’s torch was illuminating from the side.

‘A little bit to the right,’ Martin guided her, as from her position Elena couldn’t see a thing.

Finally her fingers were touching the chain. ‘Really does feel like a plastic bag,’ the doctor said, picking at it with her thumb and forefinger. ‘But I can’t work it loose.’