“Or a couple of pints of water,” said Emma. “Are you sure you’re not both worrying about nothing?”

“If it’s water, why are the flowers already wilting?” asked Giles as Captain Turnbull knocked on the door before walking into the cabin.

“You asked to see me, chairman?”

Emma began to explain why her husband and her brother were both on their knees.

“There are four SAS officers on board,” said the captain, interrupting the chairman. “One of them ought to be able to answer any questions Mr. Clifton might have.”

“I presume it’s no coincidence that they’re on board,” said Giles. “I can’t believe they all decided to take a holiday in New York at the same time.”

“They’re on board at the request of the cabinet secretary,” replied the captain. “But Sir Alan Redmayne assured me it was just a precautionary measure.”

“As usual, that man knows something we don’t,” said Harry.

“Then perhaps it’s time to find out what it is.”

The captain stepped out of the cabin and made his way quickly down the corridor, stopping only when he reached cabin 119. Colonel Scott-Hopkins responded to the knock on the door far more quickly than Giles had done a few minutes earlier.

“Do you have a bomb-disposal expert in your team?”

“Sergeant Roberts. He was with the bomb squad in Palestine.”

“I need him now, in the chairman’s stateroom.”

The colonel wasted no time asking why. He ran along the corridor and out onto the grand staircase to find Captain Hartley charging toward him.

“I’ve just spotted Liam Doherty coming out of the lavatory in the first-class lounge.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. He went in as a peer of the realm, and came out twenty minutes later as Liam Doherty. He then headed down to cabin class.”

“That may explain everything,” said Scott-Hopkins as he continued down the staircase with Hartley only a pace behind. “What’s Roberts’s cabin number?” he asked on the run.

“Seven four two,” said Hartley as they hurdled across the red chain onto the narrower staircase. They didn’t stop until they reached deck seven, where Corporal Crann stepped out of the shadows.

“Has Doherty passed you within the last few minutes?”

“Damn,” said Crann. “I knew I’d seen that bastard swaggering up the Falls Road. He went into seven zero six.”

“Hartley,” said the colonel as he charged on down the corridor, “you and Crann keep an eye on Doherty. Make sure he doesn’t leave his cabin. If he does, arrest him.” The colonel banged on the door of cabin 742. Sergeant Roberts didn’t need a second knock. He opened the door within seconds, and greeted Colonel Scott-Hopkins with “Good morning, sir,” as if his commanding officer regularly woke him in the middle of the night, dressed in his pajamas.

“Grab your tool kit, Roberts, and follow me. We haven’t a moment to waste,” said the colonel, once again on the move.

It took Roberts three flights of stairs before he caught up with his commanding officer. By the time they reached the stateroom corridor, Roberts knew which of his particular skills the colonel required. He dashed into the chairman’s cabin, and peered closely at the vase for a moment before slowly circling it.