A tap on the inner door interrupted our little conversation there.
“Enter.” Mads raised his voice a little to make sure he was heard. “Ah, Inspector Keane, may I introduce Mr Daniels and Mr Verity, my father’s permanent maintenance engineers on Kværnen? Please, do sit down, gentlemen.” He gestured to the third couch, the one forming the base of the U-shaped arrangement we were seated at, and handed the photograph over. “Our visitors from the Scottish police force wish to speak to the gentleman in the picture. Is that the man we took on in Cadiz last month, Mr Daniels?”
“Yes, it is, Herre Nielsen,” Daniels informed him after a quick look. He was a reassuringly unattractive man in his mid-forties, with a receding hairline and a perfectly unremarkable face. Verity, short and plump and perhaps slightly older, was no candidate for a beauty prize either. They both had the air of confident, competent men, the kind who are good at their jobs and know their worth. “That’s Mr Brian Jordan, Sir. He was taken on after our previous assistant abandoned us in Cadiz. Mr Jordan had been serving as third engineer on the cargo ship Thyborøn II until a couple of weeks before joining us. He was happy to work his passage back to Scotland, for the usual salary.” Daniels was an Englishman, from somewhere on the south coast, judging by the accent. He looked over at me. “We generally keep to the lower decks unless we’re needed up here to fix anything, Inspector. Herre Nielsen can’t have seen Mr Jordan in passing more than a couple of times.”
“I’m afraid my father insists on the division,” Mads put in. “His crew are expected to keep to their own areas at all times, unless their duties require them to come up here. He can be a little old fashioned about such things.” God forbid the great man’s family and guests would be asked to rub shoulders with their less aesthetically pleasing underlings. No doubt the wages were good enough to keep them happy, whatever cramped little holes they were housed in down below.
“Three engineering staff seems like a lot for a boat this size?” Shay put in then.
“It certainly is.” Daniels nodded. “But we’re not just here to keep the motors running properly. Kværnen has some very complex equipment aboard her, and someone has to keep an eye on everything at all times, around the clock. John and I can manage well enough by ourselves, for short periods, but there’s a limit to how long we can keep up properly without a third man.”
“And Mr Jordan?” I asked, before Shay could become too interested in that subject. “Can either of you tell me where he is?” They both shook their heads at that.
“He left us when we sailed down to Portree on Saturday. That’s when he’d arranged to leave us again. As far as we both knew, he was heading straight for Aberdeen to visit his family, before joining his next ship at the beginning of June.”
“He spoke of family in Aberdeen?”
“Yes, he did, Inspector. That’s where he’s originally from. He has a mother and two sisters there. Or so he told us. He was a good worker, very experienced and reliable, and he kept to himself too, which suited us all nicely. To tell you the truth, we were quite sorry to see him go.”
I asked them a few more questions, but they clearly didn’t know any more than they’d already told us about our man. I switched my attention back to Mads.
“Herre Nielsen, may I trouble you for copies of Mr Jordan’s documentation?”
“Of course, Inspector. Thank you, Mr Daniels, Mr Verity. Could I trouble you to send those to my printer for me?”
“Sir.” Dismissed, the two of them were quick to get up and leave again. The swanky main deck salon was clearly a foreign and uncomfortable territory for them both. I waited until they’d gone before asking my next question.
“How many people do you have onboard just now, Herre Nielsen, apart from those two gentlemen and yourself?”
“Only four. I believe you’ve already met Alejandro and Signe. Then there are Jules and Gioia. They’re all student volunteers from our scholarship programmes around Europe. I like to offer a carefully selected few an invitation to spend a month travelling with me, if they choose to. An enjoyable little working holiday, if you like. They each work for only four hours a day, dealing with a little catering and cleaning, but the rest of the time, they are treated like any other guest of the family.” Funnily enough, I believed that was all actually as above board as it sounded, although, if the ‘selected few’ all happened to be exceptionally good-looking young people in great shape, then the selection process itself might be a bit dubious.
“Would it be possible to speak to each of them and take a look at their passports?” I asked.
“Of course, if you think it may be helpful.” He looked a bit doubtful about what possible use it would be.
“Thank you.” I stood, and Shay rose with me. “Well, we don’t need to take up any more of your valuable time Herre Nielsen. I’m sure you must be busy. Perhaps they could come down to the dock to speak with us? And bring those papers with them?”
“As you wish.” I got the impression he’d rather have had us stay where we were to complete our business where he could oversee the process himself, but he certainly wasn’t prepared to argue about it.
“Ugh!” Shay sneered, straightening up as we walked down the dock a short way to wait. “Herre Nielsen senior sounds like a charming man to work for. Just like feudal times.”
I shrugged. “He probably pays high enough wages to make it worthwhile.” Plenty of people can tolerate snotty employers well
