Ah, the way he’d sat in that grimly lighted little Georgetown kitchen, staring again and again at his watch. I mean, this watch.

At last David emerged from the bedroom, notebook in hand. Everything had been arranged.

“There is no Clarence Oddbody on the Queen Elizabeth 2, but a mysterious young Englishman named Jason Hamilton booked the lavish Queen Victoria Suite only two days before the ship sailed from New York. For the moment we must assume that this is our man. We’ll have more information about him before we reach Grenada. Our investigators are already at work.

“We ourselves are booked out of Grenada in two penthouse suites on the same deck as our mysterious friend. We must board anytime tomorrow before the ship sails at five p.m.

“The first of our connecting flights leaves New Orleans in three hours. We will need at least one of those hours to obtain a pair of false passports from a gentleman who’s been highly recommended for this sort of transaction and is in fact waiting for us now. I have the address here.”

“Excellent. I’ve plenty of cash on hand.”

“Very good. Now, one of our investigators will meet us in Grenada. He’s a very cunning individual and I’ve worked with him for years. He’s already booked the third cabin—inside, deck five. And he will manage to smuggle a couple of small but sophisticated firearms into that cabin, as well as the trunk we will need later on.”

“Those weapons will mean nothing to a man walking around in my old body. But of course afterwards … ”

“Precisely,” said David. “After the switch, I will need a gun to protect myself against this handsome young body here.” He gestured to me. “Now, to continue. My investigator will slip off the ship after he has officially boarded, leaving the cabin and the guns to us. We ourselves will go through the regular boarding process with our new identification. Oh, and I’ve selected our names already. Afraid I had to do it. I do hope you don’t mind. You’re an American named Sheridan Blackwood. And I’m a retired English surgeon named Alexander Stoker. It’s always best to pose as a doctor on these little missions. You’ll see what I mean.”

“I’m thankful you didn’t pick H. P. Lovecraft,” I said with an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Do we have to leave now?”

“Yes, we do. I’ve already called the taxi. We must get some tropical clothing before we go, or we’ll look perfectly ridiculous. There isn’t a moment to lose. Now, if you will use those strong young arms of yours to help me with this suitcase, I shall be forever obliged.”

“I’m disappointed.”

“In what?” He stopped, stared at me, and then almost blushed as he had earlier that day. “Lestat, there is no time for that sort of thing.”

“David, assuming we succeed, it may be our last chance.”

“All right,” he said, “there is plenty of time to discuss it at the beachside hotel in Grenada tonight. Depending of course on how quick you are with your lessons in astral projection. Now, do please show some youthful vim and vigor of a constructive sort, and help me with this suitcase. I’m a man of seventy-four.”