I let him out and find myself back in the engine room. The electrics haven’t been touched since the boat was converted, so I’m not really that surprised. I find myself reaching out for the switch and I wonder why I’ve never been very good at doing what I’m told.

The phone saves me, snaps me out of it. The buzz is an email which turns out to be the report I’d asked for. I go back to the table, ready to compare it with what I’ve got, but when I open the attachment I see there’s only one page, the same one as in the file. There’s no second page, nothing to indicate they performed the most basic of tests. Hank de Vries had been in charge of that; he was a good cop – there’s no way he’d’ve made such a mistake. Mistake being code for Monumental Fuck-up.

I call them back. Same voice as before.

‘Is there any way there’s a missing sheet?’

‘No, I checked. Each page is given a unique reference which is logged on the system. This report only ever had one page.’

‘So whoever did it didn’t check the time on the camera itself?’

‘If they did, they didn’t make a note of it.’

Deck again, another half-joint, and I find my hand shaking a little as I light it. More birds. I look across at the Mustang; one of them’s Jackson Pollocked the bonnet – a massive splodge of white shit, bright and watery against the matt black.

Back inside I stare at the table, the papers spread all over it. I’m overwhelmed by jittery coldness. I go through it again, and again. The feeling only gets worse. I know what it is; I’ve felt it before. It’s denial.

Because from what I can see, Huisman’s alibi, the one that meant he didn’t go to prison for the murder of Lucie Muller, has just crumbled away.

Bit of a Punk

Once I’ve calmed down I get on the phone to Vermeer. Only her phone’s off so I have to settle for Jansen.

‘We need to meet,’ I tell him.

‘What’s this about, sir?’

I’m beginning to think this whole sir business is him being sarcastic.

‘It’s about a unifying theory of everything, which manages to finally bridge the gap between general relativity and quantum mechanics. What the hell do you think it’s about?’

‘I –’

‘Where are you now?’

‘Den Haag, I’m down here with Vermeer.’

‘When are you back?’

‘We’ll be at the station around three or so. But what’s this –’

‘Call me when you’re close. I’ll meet you there.’

I hang up before he can say ‘sir’ again.