````````She carefully surveys the sleeping street from behind the wheel of her royal-blue Honda Civic. It’s the perfect hide, parked among the other late-model cars lining both sides of the road. The modest houses beyond lay dormant. No flicker of televisions from behind curtains hint that anyone is still awake. There’s no movement outside either, except for the dozen or so moths batting themselves against the street ligh...

The fifty-two-metre fishing trawler loomed high above us, its rust-ravaged hull already succumbing to the relentless invasion of barnacles and other parasitic sea life. Listing forty-odd degrees on its port side, it exposed its belly like a lazy dog hoping for a pat. It was a monolith. I felt tiny in its presence.I chased the slowly ascending trail of bubbles around the leaning prow of the trawler. They were long, diagona...