“Okay,” Jake cried out, “you got my attention, you can stop.”

This only made Gunter laugh even more. He picked up the other oar and joined his colleague. Between the two of them they were able to shift a surprising amount of sea water. There was already a couple of centimetres accumulated in the bottom of the raft and Jake’s hands were submerged. He tried uselessly to evacuate it with a cupped hand, but it was useless. Quickly out of breath, he turned and collapsed onto his back, laying in the freezing water, staring at the sky.

Now that they weren’t getting a reaction, the two men stopped thrashing around with the paddles. The German sat down on the bottom step, propped his oar against the railing, and pulled his thick coat closer around himself. The other man remained where he was, watching over the raft. He dropped his oar at his feet.

An idea occurred to Jake. Still looking at the sky, he spoke to the men.

“You realise he’s going to kill you too, don’t you?”

Gunter laughed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? And I suppose you think you know him? I mean, how long have you actually known him? Three days?”

“You can learn a lot about someone in three days. We have the same ideals, we see the same future.”

“I expect Melvin thought that as well.”

“Melvin was a puppet. A means to an end. He was always going to be disposed of.”

“Which is my point,” Jake said, sitting up now. The damage to his ribcage made it painful, but he closed his mind to it, determined to get his point over. “He was always going to die, yet he trusted Flynn. Just like you trust him.”

“That’s different.”

“Why exactly?”

“Because we were in on it from the start. We knew Melvin would die.”

“And who’s to say he’s not in on it more than you?” Jake pointed to the Chinese man. “Maybe you’re the next Melvin. Maybe he knows you’re next to die.”

A look of uncertainty flashed across Gunter’s face. The other man’s expression remained inscrutable.

“Think about it,” Jake sensed he might have struck a seam of doubt. He intended to mine it as far as he could. “Flynn is planning on killing thousands. Why save twelve? Why save anyone other than the women?”

“He needs us, for the breeding.” Gunter got to his feet. “He explained it to us. One man isn’t enough, he needs a wider gene pool to build Eden.”

“But why your genes? What’s so special about you? I mean, I suppose you’re strong, but you’re not exactly the smartest man on this ship are you? I’m pretty sure that he could find more intelligent men to breed from, fitter physical specimens. Why would he pick Laurel and Hardy when he could find some intelligent, funny, and dare I say it, attractive men to father his next generation?”

“That’s it, I’m going to kill him now,” Gunter said.

He picked up his discarded oar and lifting it above his head, strode towards the raft. The Chinese man put out an arm to stop him, shook his head once, silently.

“Taking orders from him now are you?” Jake smiled. “I guess not all disciples are created equal? Or are you not a real disciple? Maybe he’s a true follower and you’re just a foot soldier. A pawn to be sacrificed when it suits, or jettisoned when you’re no longer of any use.”

“Let me past, Zhang,” Gunter looked at the smaller man.

Zhang shook his head once more.

“Well I think it’s clear who’s boss around here, isn’t it?” Jake said. A tiny flame of hope ignited in his gut.

“Flynn is in charge. You don’t order me around Zhang. Now let me past, or do I have to force you?”

Zhang stood his ground, stared at Gunter.

“Fuck Zhang!” Gunter was losing his temper fast. “It’s true what he said, isn’t it? Are you using me? I swear, if you are using me I will kill you.”

Still Zhang said nothing. His arm remained outstretched, a barrier between the German and the raft.

Gunter’s face exploded into a ball of rage. He swung back the oar with both hands, like a golf club, then heaved it forwards with all his strength. The height difference between the two men meant that the paddle of the oar was on a trajectory to meet directly with Zhang’s neck. Jake watched as it twisted in the air, turned sideways on. The force with which it was swung, the speed with which it travelled through the air, it was sure to decapitate the diminutive disciple.

Except that he ducked. At the critical moment, Zhang’s legs folded beneath him and he lost half a metre in height in a matter of milliseconds. With nothing to arrest its momentum, the oar kept on swinging, taking Gunter’s hands with it. As soon as it cleared the airspace above Zhang, he bounced back to his feet. In his hands was his own previously discarded oar. He held it in front of him, between the legs of the German, and it rose with him until it met resistance. It connected with Gunter’s crotch with such force that it broke cleanly in two. The paddle fell clattering to the platform.

Now it was Gunter’s turn to drop. His hands flew open, releasing the oar which flew into the fjord. He fell to his knees, clutching his groin and bellowing something in German. By the time the blonde man’s knees hit the deck, Zhang had brought the half of the oar still in his hands back ready for another strike. He swung it forwards like a baseball bat. Jake heard a terrible crack as the shaft connected with Gunter’s throat. It crushed his windpipe and sent him flying backwards where his head smashed against the lowest of the metal steps. Spots of blood erupted from his skull, spraying the other steps with tiny red polka dots. Zhang stepped over the broken paddle of the oar and with one foot rolled the limp and broken body of the German off the platform and into the fjord. The bow thruster was still turning at full pelt, and the churning water spun the corpse around several times before sending it off towards the shoreline.

Jake sank back into the raft, dumbstruck. Any hope of trying to overpower the man, or to reason with him, was dashed. He watched Zhang calmly untie the rope that held the little raft captive, throw it into the inflatable, and with the same foot he had used to dispatch his former colleague, push it away from the ship.

Fifty-Seven

LUCYA FELT HER way back to the boarded up window. Having seen the room illuminated by the light from the next room, she had a much better idea of the layout. This time there was no crashing into furniture and she located her target with ease. She ran her fingers around the frame, looking for a break in the tape that held in place whatever had been use to board it up. Once she touched upon a serrated edge and began to peel it back. The tape was well stuck down. It felt like a super sticky plumber’s tape capable of sealing leaks in high pressure pipes. Using her long and well manicured nails, she scraped back the edge, millimetre by millimetre. Once she had successfully removed enough to get a decent grip, things moved much faster. She was able to pull of strips of the tape with relative ease. She expected to see light flood in through the gap between the boarding at the window, but there was none. Instead, there was just more tape. Layer upon layer of tape.

It took nearly a quarter of an hour and four broken nails to finally reached the last layer. This time when she pulled at the end, the scratching noise of the sticky material coming away from the frame was accompanied by a crack of daylight appearing. Spurred on by her success, she finished un-peeling all four sides. To her amazement, the boarding wasn’t screwed to the window or fixed by any other means than the tape itself. As the last stretch of it came away, so did the window covering. Light flooded into the room, temporarily blinding her.