A shocked Johann herded them back down to reception and said he would have to phone his manager to decide their next course of action. Nick persuaded him first to check security camera coverage of the reception area. Johann seized on that as a ‘Good idea’ and commenced scrolling back through the footage on his computer. Only to discover, to his amazement, that the camera hadn’t been working since 8.41 that evening, which he reckoned coincided with him leaving the desk to help an elderly guest into a taxi.

‘That’s when they came in, isn’t it?’ murmured Erla as Johann scurried into the back office to phone his boss.

‘Looks like it,’ said Nick. ‘We only missed them by a few hours.’

‘I think the hotel manager will say call the police.’

‘Maybe. Or maybe he won’t want to admit there’s been a breach of security. Either way, we shouldn’t hang around to answer questions. Let’s clear out while Johann’s busy.’

‘This means they’re on her trail, doesn’t it?’ said Erla as they exited the hotel and hurried away along the street.

‘Yes,’ said Nick. ‘But it also means they haven’t caught up with her yet. And that they have no more idea than us about what her next move will be.’

‘Maybe they don’t care about her any more. Maybe they got what they wanted this evening.’

‘I doubt it. I think what they wanted is still out there. With Wada. Wherever she is.’

NINETEEN

WEDNESDAY MORNING AT stóri-asgarbær. wada ate the porridge Caldwell cooked for her and drank the tea he brewed. She thanked him for both. She showed no anger or resentment. And he responded with courtesy and kindness – up to a point. But she was still his prisoner.

If her strategy was to work, she had to start altering the balance of their exchanges. Caldwell had been happy to recount past events from his point of view – a tiresomely self-pitying one in her unspoken opinion. She’d allowed that to run its course. He’d talked himself to a standstill, as he tacitly acknowledged that morning. ‘Sorry if I bored you last night with my tragic tale, Miss Wada.’ It was as if they agreed: the time had come for her to do some talking.

‘Did you always believe Peter Ellery had survived?’

‘Hoped. Suspected. Wondered. All of those things. But I didn’t believe it until … Caro sent me the Evening Standard advert from 1992. That clinched it.’

‘But you did not contact Mimori Takenaga straight away?’

‘No. I debated whether to act for a long time. Eventually, I realized I had to. Otherwise the doubt would never go away.’

‘The doubt about whether Peter Ellery was alive? Or how Alison Parker had died?’