Georg Hoffman swirled the whisky in his hand and focused on the clink of the ice in his glass. From the upper sky lounge, he looked across the Mediterranean Sea at the Italian coastline, which burnt a bright gold in the setting sun. He could just make out Naples, and beyond that, the ancient city of Pompeii, its citizens frozen in time for thousands of years. He thought it an apt metaphor for this trip – as the events of the past were still somehow shaping the present.

Georg considered the last twelve months. What a whirlwind they had been for the D’Aplièse sisters. Each one had, without exception, handled the truth of their past with such maturity and wisdom.

‘You would be so proud,’ he said to the empty room.

The last few weeks in particular had been sleepless. The phone calls he had received with constant updates of ‘the situation’ were enormously distressing. Although he was attempting to deal with it as best he could, once more Georg was torn between the lawyer in him, duty-bound to fulfil the wishes of his client, and the human being, who loved this family as his own. There was a tap on the sky lounge door. Georg turned to see Ma poking her head around the frame.

‘I just wanted to check on you, chéri. Are you coping?’ she asked.

‘Yes – thank you. Please come in, Marina. Will you join me in a drink?’

She closed the door softly behind her. ‘You know, Georg, on this occasion, I think I will.’ He reached for the decanter, and duly poured his old friend a glass.

‘This was his. A Macallan 1926. In fact, I do not doubt that the last hand to touch this decanter was his.’ He handed the drink to her.

‘Thank you. Yes, I remember him saying that he developed quite a taste for the local drams after spending that time in Scotland.’ Marina took a delicate sip, and felt the warm, mellow liquid travel down her throat and into her stomach. ‘Do you think the girls have reached that point in the diary yet?’

‘I am unsure. How do you think they will receive it all, Marina?’

‘It is difficult to predict. Some may find certain elements of his story easier to digest than others. But I am simply glad that, for once, we will all be in complete accord.’

‘Yes.’

‘May I ask for the latest news?’ Marina looked at Georg searchingly.

‘There is nothing beyond what I told you this morning. Things are deteriorating quickly. There is not long left.’

Marina crossed herself. ‘Whatever happens, you must not blame yourself, Georg. You have acted honourably.’ She placed a hand on his.

‘Thank you, Marina. That means a great deal coming from you. We have been through so much together over the years. I just feel I owe it to him to get this right.’

‘I know you will, Georg, whatever you choose. I fear it is not often said, but Atlas would be enormously proud of you, too. And your sister, of course. I am sorry not to have asked . . . how is she coping with it all?’

‘She is finding it difficult, as anyone would in such circumstances.’

‘I can only imagine.’ Marina looked out to the ocean. ‘He always loved this coastline.’ Georg did not respond, and Marina looked up at her friend to see tears in his eyes.

‘Oh chéri, please do not cry. It breaks my heart.’

‘I owe him everything, Marina. Everything.’

‘As do I. I’ve always meant to ask . . . when Atlas found you two on the shores of Lake Geneva, did you ever wonder if he’d turn you in to the authorities?’

Georg lifted the decanter and replenished his glass. ‘Of course. We were just a pair of terrified children. But he himself had fled persecution.’ He sipped his whisky slowly. ‘Atlas was so kind to us.’

‘You have repaid him well, Georg. You have given your life to his service.’

‘It was the least I could do, Marina. Without him, I would not have a life.’

Marina had emptied her glass too, and Georg refilled it. ‘Thank you. How long does your sister anticipate is left?’

Georg shrugged. ‘Only days.’

‘Will that influence your decision, Georg? About—’

‘Perhaps.’ He cut her off. ‘I confess, finding Merry and bringing her aboard the Titan just in time for it to set sail might determine my course of action.’

‘It seems only fitting. Perhaps it is a sign from above.’

‘As so much of his world has always been.’

There was another knock on the door, and Merry appeared. ‘Hello, you two. How are you getting on?’

‘Merry! Yes, well, thank you,’ Ma replied. ‘More importantly, how are you, chérie?’

‘Oh, grand, thanks. The diary is a fascinating read. Atlas had quite the way with words, didn’t he? For a boy so young, he’s incredibly eloquent.’

‘He was always linguistically gifted.’ Ma smiled.

‘I just wanted to ask about this Kreeg Eszu chap. He’s only really got a brief mention so far, but Jack has told me that Argideen House was owned by his family. Could you tell me a bit more about how that came to be?’

Ma looked up to Georg, who polished off his whisky in a single gulp. ‘Ah, yes. I imagine you must be very curious about that connection.’ Merry noted the steely way Ma was staring at Georg. ‘But to tell you the truth, Merry, we do not know.’

‘Oh. Really?’

‘Yes. I suppose it is better to tell you that now than for you to read the entire contents of the diary and be disappointed.’

‘Right. Well, that’s more than a little annoying.’

‘Perhaps we will find out one day. Or perhaps it is mere coincidence, Merry,’ Georg lied.

Merry wrinkled her nose and tutted sharply. ‘Ah, yes, you’re absolutely right. I’m sure I’m overthinking it. After all, it’s a very popular Irish name. Sure, there’s thousands of Murphys, O’Briens and Eszus,’ she retorted. Merry placed her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows at Georg, causing him to take out his pocket square to dab his brow. ‘Now, I’d like to make a call to Dublin, if that’s possible, to update Ambrose on everything. I can hardly believe it’s been less than twenty-four hours since I last saw him. It feels like a lifetime since then.’

‘I am inclined to agree, yes,’ replied Georg. ‘There is a satellite phone in the office. Most of the staff are familiar with its operation. Marina, would you mind accompanying Merry?’

‘Of course not. Come along, chérie. Afterwards, shall we perhaps enjoy a glass of wine on the aft deck before dinner?’

The ladies left the sky lounge and Georg was alone once again. He sighed heavily. It was regrettable that he had just lied to Atlas’s daughter. Perhaps he should have come out with the whole truth then and there, which would certainly have eased the enormous burden he felt he was carrying. But, of course, it was not what his employer would want. Georg’s pocket vibrated, and he hurriedly fumbled to retrieve his phone. Although it displayed Unknown Number, he knew exactly who was on the other end of the line. Inhaling deeply, he accepted the call.

‘Pleione,’ said Georg.

‘Orion,’ came the reply.

These were the words required by both parties so that each knew it was safe to talk.

Georg steeled himself for the evening update.