Michael Robotham - The Night Ferry

I am being kept away, at arm’s length, as though I’m a liability or worse, a hysterical woman. What could I have done differently? Hindsight is a cruel teacher. I should never have left Samira or the twins. I should have stayed with them. Perhaps I could have fought Pearl off.

My mind goes further back. I should never have gone to Amsterdam looking for her. I have made things worse rather than better. That’s the story of my life—good intentions. And being a hundredth of a second too slow—close enough to touch victory in a contest where first and last were separated by the width of a chest.

How can they negotiate with Pearl? He can’t be trusted. The chief engineer hands me something hot to drink.

“Not long to go now,” he says, motioning to the windows. The lights of Harwich appear and disappear as we ride the swell. Massive cranes with four legs and oblong torsos seem to stand guard at the gates of the town. I stay at the window watching it approach.

The captain and navigator stare at screens, using external cameras to maneuver the ferry, edging it against the dock. We are so high up that the stevedores look like Lilliputians trying to tie down a giant.

DI Forbes is first on board, pausing just long enough to look at my clothes with a mixture of awe and disgust. He takes the phone from the captain.

“Don’t trust him,” I yell across the bridge. It is all I have a chance to say before the DI introduces himself to Pearl. I can only hear one side of their conversation but Forbes repeats each demand as it is made. The clicks in his throat are like punctuation marks.

Pearl wants the main ferry doors opened and vehicles moved to clear a path for his truck. Nobody is to approach. If he sees a police officer on the deck, or if he hears a fire alarm, or if anything is different or untoward, he will kill Samira and the twins.

“You have to give me more time,” says Forbes. “I’ll need at least an hour…That’s not long enough. I can’t do it in fifteen minutes…Let me talk to Samira…Yes, that’s why I want to talk to her…No, I don’t want that. Nobody has to get hurt.”

In the background one of the babies is crying—perhaps both of them. Do twins sound the same? Do they harmonize when they cry?

There are CCTV cameras on the vehicle decks. One of them is trained on the truck. Yanus can be seen clearly behind the wheel. Samira is in the passenger seat.

The rest of the passengers are being evacuated down gangways to the main terminal building. The port area has been closed and sealed off by armed response teams in black body armor. There are sharpshooters on surrounding rooftops.

The anguish of the past hours has swelled up inside me, making it hard to breathe. I can feel myself sinking into the background.

Forbes has agreed to take a limited number of vehicles off the ferry, clearing a path for the truck. I follow the detective down the footbridge to the dock as he supervises the evacuation. Men in yellow reflective vests wave the first of the rigs down the ramp.

Forbes has put Pearl onto a speakerphone. The Irishman sounds calm. Confident. Perhaps it’s bravado. He is talking over the sound of engines, telling Forbes to hurry. Slowly a clear lane emerges on the vehicle deck. The Mercedes truck is at the far end, with its headlights blazing and engine running.

I still can’t understand how he hopes to get away. There are unmarked police cars waiting outside and helicopters in the air. He can’t outrun them.

Yanus is bleeding to death. Even with a bandaged leg and forearm his blood pressure will be dropping. How long before he loses consciousness?

“You definitely saw a gun?” asks Forbes, addressing me directly for the first time.

“Yes.”

“Could he have other firearms?”

“Yes.”

“What is the truck carrying?”

“This one is empty. There’s another on Deck 5. I didn’t see inside.” I give him the vehicle number.

“So it could be a trafficking run. There might be illegals on board.”

“It’s possible.”

The last of the rigs has been moved. Yanus has a clear path to the ramp. Pearl is still issuing instructions. The twins are silent.

In a beat of flushed silence I realize something is wrong. Pearl is too calm, too confident. His plan doesn’t make sense. As the notion occurs to me, I’m moving, pushing past Forbes and sprinting up the ramp. A hundred meters is not my favorite distance but I can cover it in less time than it takes most people to tie their shoes.

Forbes is yelling at me to stop. He’s too late. Reacting to the new development, he orders his teams to move. Heavy boots thunder up the ramp after me, sweeping between the outer rows of trucks.

Yanus is still behind the wheel, staring out through the windscreen, unperturbed by my approach. His eyes seem to follow me as I swing on the door handle and wrench it open. His hands are taped to the steering wheel. Blood has drained onto the floor at his feet. I press my hand to his neck. He’s dead.

Samira’s hands are also taped. I lean across Yanus and touch her shoulder. Her eyes open.

“Where are they?”

She shakes her head.

I swing down and run to the rear of the truck. A sledgehammer pulverizes the lock and the doors swing open. Guns sweep from side to side. The trailer is empty.

Forbes reaches us, puffing and wheezing, still clogged with his cold. I snatch the phone from him. The line is dead.

Amid the commotion of the next few minutes I see things at half speed and struggle to find saliva to push around my mouth. Forbes is bellowing orders and kicking angrily at the truck tires. Someone will have to pop him with a tranquilizer gun if he doesn’t calm down.

Teams of police have secured the ferry. Nobody is being allowed on or off. Passengers are being screened and interviewed in the terminal. Floodlights on the dock make it appear like a massive stage or film set, ready for the cameras to roll.

Yanus watches and waits, as though expecting his cue. My heart jolts on the reality of having killed him. Yes, he deserved it, but I did this . I took his life. His blood still stains my clothes, along with Samira’s.

Paramedics are lifting her onto a stretcher. The towel is still wedged between her thighs. The medics gently shunt me to one side when I approach. She can’t talk to me now. I want to say I’m sorry, it was my fault. I should never have left her. I should have stayed with them. Perhaps I could have stopped Pearl.

Some time later Forbes comes looking for me.

“Let’s walk,” he says.

Instinctively, I take his arm. I’m frightened my legs might fail.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Five thirty.”

“My watch says five fifteen.”

“It’s slow.”

“How do you know yours isn’t fast?”

“Because the ferry company has those big fucking clocks on the wall that say your watch is wrong in four different time zones.”

We walk down the ramp, along the dock, away from the ferry. Refinery tanks and shipping containers create silhouettes against the brightening sky. Wind and smoke and scudding clouds are streaming over us.

“You don’t think he’s on the ferry, do you?” asks Forbes.

“No.”

There is another long pause. “We found a life buoy missing from the starboard railing. He could have gone over the side.”

“Someone would have seen him.”

“We were distracted.”

“Even so.”

I can still smell the twins and feel the smoothness of their skin. We’re both thinking the same thing. What happened to them?

“You should never have put yourself on that ferry,” he says.

“I couldn’t be sure she was on board.”

Taking a packet of cigarettes from his pockets, he counts the contents.