‘Sounds like fun,’ I said to Alice, who had signalled one of the waiters.

‘Chacun à son goût,’ said Alice enigmatically. ‘You want coffee? I strongly recommend it. Perry’s lectures are as effective as a couple of Valium.’

I was glad I had taken her advice. Perry went droning on about Isis and Osiris and Mut and a lot of other people with improbable names; when he started discussing the differences between pantheism, monotheism, and henotheism, my head began to droop. I was saved from shame by Alice, who kept pinching me.

There were not many questions. Nobody wanted to get him started again.

The crew hauled away the screen and podium and our dance band – a grand total of four – ambled in. Perry asked me to dance, but I was able to use my bruises as an excuse for refusing. As I hobbled towards the door I saw the Johnsons solemnly gyrating; he was holding her at arm’s length and moving about as fast as a sluggish snail. The newlyweds were not dancing.

III

I had breakfast in my room next mornmg. From what I had heard, room service was not usual on tour boats, but Ali was now my best friend in the whole world and would – he earnestly assured me – lay down his life for me anytime I wanted. I told him I’d settle for a couple of boiled eggs and coffee. He was back in record time, with an array of food that looked like samples of the entire breakfast menu. I had to push him out of the door. Then I took food, coffee, and a pad and pencil out onto the balcony.

The views were pastoral – green fields, water buffalo knee-deep in the shallows, black-garbed women washing clothes and keeping a watchful eye on the children in their bright brief garments. I waved back at a group of kids who were lined up along the bank waving and calling.

I didn’t want to think about crime. Why the hell should I? I had done what I was supposed to do. All I was supposed to do. Maybe the flowerpot had been an unfortunate accident. Maybe John didn’t have a confederate on board. Even if both those comfortable assumptions were wrong, there was no reason to suppose I would recognize any of his henchmen.

I had met more crooks than I would have liked, but one is more than I would have liked. I made a list.

Some of the names on that list were out of the picture – dead, or in jail. The people in Rome who had been happily selling fake jewellery until I so rudely interrupted them were neither of the above. They had pinned the blame for that caper on John and were still leading la dolce vita, which just goes to prove that crime often does pay and that justice frequently doesn’t triumph. However, that had been a purely local operation, run by amateurs; it was most unlikely that they had extended their activities abroad.