Evans walked over and looked at the compass. “Five degrees to port,” he said.
The man at the wheel began to swing the ship over.
Martin looked out the window at the whiteness. He thought of Duval. His name had not been mentioned since the service early that morning.
“What’s the procedure when somebody dies aboard ship, when somebody disappears?”
“An investigation.”
“Just a routine one?”
“Usually. It’s different if they disappear and nobody sees them.”
“What happens then?”
“Still an investigation; a little more so, maybe.”
“What are you going to tell them?”