She readied herself. His next move would be to mask his fear with a reaction, and he would use the only power he had over her: his physical strength.

He went to stand, planting his big hands on the armrests. Anna took two steps forward and raised her right hand. The knife slid out, an extension of her fingers. She didn’t look at his eyes, or his hands, but kept her focus solely on the target area as she bent slightly and deftly flicked. The blade sliced cleanly through his carotid artery. The blood gush was instant.

One… two… three…

She put one hand on his shoulder as he bucked forward, angling herself so she stood clear of the jet. She watched its trajectory, up and over, hitting the glossy drinks cabinet, running down bright red against polished white wood.

Four… five… six…

She glanced down at Mark, his mouth flapping uselessly. Eight seconds for him to lose consciousness. She applied a little more pressure to his upper arm to keep him from moving to plug the flow.

Seven… eight…

It was done.

She moved back to survey the damage. The blood could have been worse; it hadn’t touched the rug underneath the chairs, just the cabinet, which was dripping still, running in rivers to pool on the floor. She would tend to that first.

She slipped off her robe and worked naked, to avoid the danger of getting blood on her clothes. She hung the robe neatly in the wardrobe, pleased to see not a single drop of Mark’s blood on it.

From her suitcase she pulled a large plastic sheet, which she tucked behind his shoulders, wrapping it around his front like a shawl. On her hands and knees, she mopped up the puddle and roughly cleaned the cabinet with cloths that had been packed alongside the sheet. When there was no risk of the blood getting on anything else, she opened the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony. The sun was fully up now, silvery white and yellow beams against a perfect blue sky. She walked over to the railing and squatted for a closer look at it. No gate here, unfortunately, unlike the top deck.

She looked back inside at Mark’s inert body. He was a big guy. She’d put him at twelve stone at least, maybe more, almost double her own weight. The railing on the balcony came up to her chest, and though it was a clear drop down into the ocean, there was no way she could lift his corpse up and over.

She ran her hand over the railings again, feeling for the bolts. Just two in each, joining the white rails to the side supports. If she had a spanner, she would only need to remove one rail and she could slide Mark’s body out.