Passenger 23

by Sebastian Fitzek

  Querky: what’s that humming the whole time?

  Lisa slapped her hand over her mouth in shock.

  She checked the icons on her screen. The microphone and webcam were switched off.

  How can Querky hear that?

  The noises got louder when she opened the minibar in the cupboard below the television.

  Inside were a dozen bottles of soft drinks and beer, while the side compartment was filled with spirit miniatures and peanuts. Nothing that could make a humming sound. And yet something was buzzing, rhythmically.

  Lisa opened the freezer compartment and found something.

  Beside the ice cube tray was a light-blue envelope with the cruise line’s logo. The bulging packet vibrated, making Lisa scream and leap back from the fridge in fright. To begin with she thought it was maggots crawling around inside the envelope, but that was impossible.

  Not at minus eight degrees. And maggots don’t hum at regular intervals!

  It was a while before Lisa thought of the obvious thing to do: she took out the envelope to open it.

  Sure enough.

  The packet was padded and well insulated, which is why the mobile phone she found inside didn’t feel especially cold.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Finally,’ said a voice she’d imagined would be quite different.

  ‘Querky?’ Lisa asked, forcing herself to speak softly so her mother couldn’t hear her in the adjoining cabin.

  ‘Who else?’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Lisa laughed, relieved. Her heart was pounding as if she’d just raced a hundred metres. ‘You really gave me a fright.’

  ‘How so, sweetie? Didn’t I tell you I’d be accompanying you on your big journey?’

  Now Querky laughed too. ‘I’ve got the screwdriver, the spray can and the list of security cameras for you. Listen, Lisa, I’ll tell you where and how you’ll find everything!’

  16

  Nautical time: 08.30

  49°40’ N, 07°30’ W

  Speed: 27 knots, Wind: 15 knots

  Swell: 1.5–4 feet

  Distance from Southampton: 219.6 nautical miles

  Celtic Sea

  On the steel door it said ‘CREW ONLY’, and the red paintwork was sufficient to warn unauthorised people that they were unwelcome here.

  Dr Elena Beck swiped her key card through a reader, prompting a buzzing that sounded like an electric razor.

  ‘Let’s get one thing straight,’ she said, pushing the door open with her shoulder, ‘I don’t think it’s a particularly good idea to let a strange man see her…’

  ‘Really?’ Martin said. ‘And I thought that fierce look was because you missed out on giving me an injection yesterday.’

  The doctor was expressionless.

  ‘But,’ she said, continuing her train of thought, ‘I’m very pleased that a psychologist is going to look after Anouk; someone who knows about violence and traumatised victims. That girl can do with all the help she can get.’

  He followed her up a high doorstep and into a brightly lit, narrow corridor.

  On deck A, just above the waterline, the service corridors had very little in common with the passenger area. You walked on linoleum instead of thick carpet, the walls were painted grey and you’d search in vain for framed pictures.

  ‘Where’s our coward, then?’ Martin asked. He was tired and felt as if he hadn’t slept for even an hour. After his shower yesterday he’d lain naked on a bed far too large for one person, and stared at the ceiling until the sun rose over the Atlantic again. Then he’d taken his first pill and picked up the phone to give Bonhoeffer hell and demand when he’d finally be able to see Anouk Lamar. Now it was shortly after half past eight nautical time (on the westward transatlantic route the clocks were put back by an hour every night); in total he’d had to wait three hours before Dr Beck came to fetch him from his cabin.

  ‘Are you referring to the captain? Why he’s not accompanying us?’ She walked half a pace ahead of him, her blond plait bobbing from shoulder to shoulder, and the soles of her sneakers squeaking. Under her left arm was a clipboard and her officer’s hat.

  ‘He’s got an officers’ meeting in the planetarium and so asked me to fill in for him. He has a lot on his plate.’

  Martin giggled. ‘I can well imagine. A child abduction like this can keep you awake at night, can’t it?’

  She stopped and shook her head. ‘Listen, I don’t know what’s gone on between you and the captain in the past, but I can say one thing for certain: Daniel Bonhoeffer is a level-headed man of integrity. All of us have nothing but the girl’s best interests at heart, and this whole affair is just as unpleasant for him as it is for me.’

  ‘Sure, sure.’ Martin laughed disparagingly.

  And chickens die of tooth decay.

  They passed several doors on both sides of the corridor, some of which were open, allowing Martin a glimpse inside the crew cabins. Rudimentary cells with open cupboards and bunk beds like in a railway couchette car. Only narrower.

  Before they’d descended into the cruise underworld, the doctor had told him that they would be passing the staff area of the first lower deck, reserved for the higher-ranking employees in the ship’s hierarchy. Chambermaids, bartenders, waiters and other service personnel. Further below, decks B and C were home to the crew members who worked in the kitchens, laundry, desalination unit or machine room. People who would never come face to face with a paying guest.

  Supposedly the staff area was more comfortable than the crew area, but even on deck A Martin felt as if he were walking along a prison cell block. Behind the closed doors he could hear both male and female laughter; someone yelled something in a language he didn’t understand, and in the cabin they were just passing two men in boxer shorts were playing cards and listening to rap music.

  When the half-naked men caught sight of the tall, slim doctor they stuck out their tongues and made panting noises. One of them grabbed the front of his pants.

  ‘Hey, Doc, fancy examining what I’ve got in my hand?’ he called out in English.

  ‘If you can hold it in one hand I’m not interested,’ she retorted, earning roars of laughter.

  They turned into a slightly wider corridor, where a number of carts and serving trolleys were parked.

  ‘This is Broadway,’ she announced, pointing to an American road sign painted on the floor. ‘All the thoroughfares on the lower decks are named after the streets of Manhattan.’

  ‘That makes it easier to find your way around?’

  ‘Pretty much. At the moment we’re heading uptown towards Times Square, the entertainment hub for employees, where they play table tennis and gamble on fruit machines. If you get lost you just have to go back to Park Avenue – the one we just came down – and from there to Grand Central Station, which is where we entered this area.’

  ‘Idiot-proof,’ Martin said sarcastically. ‘Even a child could find their way out after a couple of months here, eh?’

  Elena Beck stopped again. Her expression had darkened, although evidently this was not due to him, but to the circumstances that had brought them down here. She looked around to see if anyone was listening, then said quietly, ‘I feel the same way as you do: rather uneasy about the whole thing.’

  ‘Oh, really? So why didn’t you notify the police straight away?’

  ‘Because that would have meant putting the girl’s life in danger,’ Elena said cryptically.

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘The captain’s being bl—’ she started, but then shook her head.

  ‘Blackmailed?’

  ‘Just forget it. I can’t talk about it. Besides, you’re from the police, aren’t you?’

  Yes, correct.

  But here his ID was about as useful as the sheriff’s badge he’d given Timmy for his fifth birthday.

  ‘By the way, the captain asks you not to take any photos or videos,’ the doctor said. ‘You’d best keep your phone in your pocket.’

  ‘
I imagine you’re not going to like hearing this,’ Martin replied, ‘but your secrecy is pretty pointless. Too many people already know about the girl’s existence. Frau Dobkowitz may not be the most trustworthy source. But the chambermaid…’

  ‘Shahla?’ Dr Beck shook her head. ‘She won’t talk.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘That woman slogs away eighty hours a week for five hundred dollars a month, two thirds of which goes straight to her family in Karachi.’

  ‘You’re saying the cruise company has threatened to sack her?’

  Elena shook her head again. ‘Quite the opposite. They’ve tripled her salary on the condition that she brings Anouk food three times a day and cleans her room. She’ll only be dismissed if she says anything to anyone, but with the prospect of fifteen hundred dollars for just one month’s work I bet she’d sooner lie in an ironing press than talk.’

  ‘What about you?’ Martin said wearily. ‘How are they putting you under pressure?’

  The doctor raised her hand and wiggled her finger. The engagement ring was simple, but tasteful: white gold with a small inset diamond.

  ‘Daniel and I are getting married in December.’

  Well, well. She’s in bed with the enemy.

  ‘Congratulations,’ Martin said sarcastically. In spite of the circumstances that had brought them together, he actually liked the doctor. ‘And so you’re doing everything your future husband asks of you?’

  ‘I’m doing everything I can to help him.’

  ‘Including kidnapping?’

  She opened her mouth, but then decided against responding to this comment, partly because a very young member of staff was walking past at that moment. The chambermaid, with her dyed mop of black hair, made room for them by darting behind her cleaning trolley, which she could only just peek above.

  Martin wondered whether a stuffy liner such as the Sultan tolerated piercings, or whether this employee staring shamefully at the floor had to remove her nose stud before going up to the passenger decks.

  After going on for a while in silence, he and Dr Beck finally stopped by a door. They’d taken lots of turnings and Martin had lost his sense of direction.

  ‘Where are we now?’ he asked.

  In most of the corridors they’d bumped into people from a variety of countries in their work gear. But since they’d passed the staff canteen, where he’d mainly seen Asians at the buffet, they hadn’t met a soul.

  ‘There are three areas on a cruise ship,’ Elena explained. ‘One for the passengers, one for the staff and crew. And a third area, which nobody from either of these groups would ever enter voluntarily.’

  She took her key card from the back pocket of her uniform trousers and pulled it through the reader by the lift door.

  ‘We call this no-go area “Hell’s Kitchen”. It’s where we put Anouk.’

  17

  Hell’s Kitchen?

  The doors opened, revealing a lift, on the other side of which was another door.

  ‘Why does everyone avoid this area?’

  ‘Superstition. This is the quarantine section.’

  The doctor entered first and Martin followed her with mixed feelings.

  ‘If we have someone ill on board with an infectious virus or a serious bacterial infection, they’re relocated here to prevent an epidemic from breaking out. Which, after a fire, is the biggest nightmare on a passenger ship,’ Dr Beck said, waiting for the electric aluminium doors to shut behind them.

  ‘Looks new,’ said Martin, who couldn’t see any signs of wear on the stainless steel walls. Nor any buttons to set the lift in motion.

  ‘It is. Hell’s Kitchen hasn’t ever been used. It would be extremely impractical in a real emergency, too. Although there’s a goods lift you can transport beds in, the trip down here is asking too much of a seriously ill person. There’s a persistent rumour that the cruise line is carrying out human experiments with insubordinate employees down here.’ She laughed. ‘Or on passengers who can’t pay their bills. Sheer nonsense, of course, but the staff avoid Hell’s Kitchen as a vegetarian does the meat counter. I’ve heard that cleaners offer each other money to avoid having to work down here.’

  The lift doors opposite whooshed open and they got out again at the same level.

  Martin was puzzled at first, then realised that it had been an airlock rather than a lift.

  ‘In an emergency this area can be sealed off hermetically. It’s got its own air and water systems as well as an independent electricity supply. And now the two of us have to put on protective suits.’

  They crossed an anteroom with a rounded reception desk, where nobody was waiting for patients.

  Beyond a further plexiglass door he suddenly found himself walking on the fluffy carpet he recognised from his suite. Overall, the small connecting room, with its two leather armchairs and wardrobe, looked like the cruise ship again. The door they were standing beside was also identical to those of the passenger cabins, except here the spyhole worked the other way around.

  The doctor peered in. Apparently satisfied with what she’d seen, she invited Martin to try out his own card.

  ‘Your key is programmed to give you access to all areas necessary for your work. You can see her any time you like, but I’d be very grateful if you’d let me know beforehand.’

  ‘Is Anouk locked up?’ he asked disapprovingly.

  The doctor nodded seriously. ‘For her own security. Until we know where she was and who might be after her, she shouldn’t roam around the ship unchecked. There’s a button behind her bed she can use to raise the alarm if she’s in danger.’

  She pointed upwards. Above the door was a red lever that reminded Martin of the emergency brakes in trains. ‘In an emergency you can unlock the door that way, but it sets off an alarm on the bridge, so it’s always better to bring your key.’

  Martin slipped the plastic card from his jeans pocket, then hesitated. Before he entered he ought to have a better idea of what to expect behind the door.

  ‘Is this your examination report?’ he asked the doctor, indicating the clipboard beneath her arm.

  Without saying anything she handed it to him. Martin scanned the report of her initial examination. Anouk Lamar. Female patient. Age: 11. Height: 1.48m. Weight: 35 kg.

  In poor overall condition with signs of neglect. Patient doesn’t react to offers of help or encouragement. Suspected mutism.

  ‘Is she completely speechless?’ Martin said, questioning the diagnosis.

  Dr Beck nodded regretfully. ‘Hasn’t said a single word. All she does is moan, cry or grunt, but mostly that’s in her sleep. She has terrible nightmares. Neurologically everything seems to be normal, as you’ll see. Good reflexes, but…’

  ‘But what?’ Martin asked, then he saw it himself. The physical results in the bottom third of the report took his breath away: superficial skin abrasions running vertically, right next to the labia majora (false passage).

  ‘Bruising on both inner thighs. Severe fissures at eight and eleven o’clock in the lithomy position?’ Martin cited this part of the report in disbelief.

  Elena nodded sadly. ‘Obviously I’ve taken all the necessary swabs.’

  Jesus Christ.

  He closed his eyes.

  According to this Anouk Lamar had been raped several times by her abductor, and bestially.

  18

  The same time, deck 5

  Tiago Álvarez stepped out of the atrium cabin (as inner cabins on the Sultan with a view of the shopping mall were called) and greeted an elderly lady who was walking towards him from the spa area in a dressing gown. Delighted by the unexpected attention paid her by the young man, she gave him a beaming smile and coyly touched her candyfloss hair that had just been blow-dried.

  Tiago didn’t have to turn around to know that the woman was looking back at him. The Argentinian was well aware of the effect he had on women of all ages. They loved his dark skin, his black, curly locks, which hairspray could barely tame, an
d his dreamy eyes that also betrayed a hint of melancholy helplessness.

  Happily humming to himself (he was always pleased when people liked him), he headed to the front of the ship, in the direction of the Atlantic Bar. In the last third of the corridor he stopped by the door of an outer cabin, shaking his head.

  Of the twenty-three years he’d been on this earth, he’d spent the last six on cruise ships almost without a break. Much had changed since his maiden voyage on the MS Puertos from Lisbon to Tenerife: the ships had become larger, the cabins more affordable and the food better. But the passengers had remained as stupid as ever.

  How brainless must you be to use the ‘Please tidy my room’ sign? he thought, eyeing the green paper hanger dangling from the cabin doorknob.

  Quite apart from the fact that it didn’t summon the chambermaids any sooner, it was also the perfect invitation for thieves: ‘Come on in; there’s nobody at home!’

  He sighed at such stupidity and turned the sign around to the ‘Please do not disturb’ side. Then, having made sure no one was watching him, he put his key into the card slot and opened the door.

  ‘Thanks, Stacy,’ he whispered as he thought of the front office trainee who he’d done it with in the computer room at reception. She was tall, blond, loud, and not his type at all, but sex with the women who looked after the passengers was always the simplest way of facilitating his work. All staff at reception had a master key they could use for guests who’d mislaid their own or were interested in viewing a different category of cabin. While shagging, Tiago had swapped his key card with that of his ladyfriend. At some point the following morning Stacy had noticed that her universal key wasn’t working any more. Assuming that the magnetic strip on her card was damaged, she’d issued herself with another one.

  Child’s play if you knew how to do it. And had the right Romeo qualities.

  As Tiago checked out the cabin he’d entered, a smile of satisfaction appeared on his face. This was nothing like the pigsty he’d found in the previous room. The scumbag in the last atrium cabin – a pensioner from Switzerland travelling on his own, according to the travel documents in the desk drawer – had spread half his dinner in the bed and chucked his dirty underwear on the floor. Tiago hated this lack of respect. Didn’t those bastards know the time pressure that a chambermaid was under? That they only earned a few cents per room?