“I was indeed up,” Alexander said dryly. “I have trouble sleeping—you do, you know, when you get to my age, and a new bed always makes the matter worse. So I slipped up on deck for a little midnight walkies. And on my way there and back I saw quite a few comings and goings. Our dear friend Tina had a little visit from our very attentive cabin crew. And that dishy Mr. Lederer was prowling round here at one stage. I don’t know what he was doing out of bounds. His cabin is at quite the other end of the ship. I did wonder if he might have been coming to see you . . . ?”

He cocked an eyebrow at me and I blushed furiously.

“No, definitely not. Could he have been going into cabin ten?”

“I didn’t see,” Alexander said regretfully. “I just caught a glimpse of him rounding the corner. On his way back to his cabin to establish an alibi for his crimes, perhaps?”

“What time did you see all this?” Ben asked. Alexander pursed his lips, thinking.

“Hmm . . . it must have been around four or four thirty, I think.”

I exchanged a glance with Ben. I had been woken up at 3:04. That meant that the sighting of Josef at four a.m. probably ruled out Tina—presumably he had been in her cabin all night. But Cole . . . what reason could he possibly have for being down at this end of the ship?

I thought again of his huge case of equipment being bumped up the gangway.

“And who was the woman I saw coming out of your cabin?” Alexander said, rather slyly, looking at Ben. Ben blinked.

“Sorry? Are you sure you have the right cabin?”

“Number eight, isn’t that right?”

“That’s mine”—Ben gave an uneasy laugh—“but I can assure you no one was in my cabin apart from me.”

“Is that so?” Alexander raised his eyebrow again, and then chuckled. “Well, if you say so. It was dark. Perhaps I mistook the cabin.” He hoisted his book under his arm again. “Well, if you have no further questions, my dears?”

“N-no . . .” I said, slightly reluctantly. “At least, not now. May I come and find you if I think of anything else?”

“Of course. In that case, adieu until dinner, when I shall emerge bronzed as a young Adonis, and basted as a Christmas turkey. Toodle pip . . .”

He puffed away, up the corridor. Ben and I watched as he rounded the corner.

“He’s the full package, isn’t he?” Ben said when he’d disappeared.

“He’s—he’s just so full-on. Do you think that character is all an act? Or is he really like that twenty-four/seven?”

“I have no idea. I suspect it started out as a bit of a pose, but it’s become second nature now.”

“And his wife—have you ever met her?”

“No. But apparently she really exists. She’s supposedly something of a dragon—daughter of a German count, and apparently quite the beauty in her day. They’ve got this incredible house in South Kensington, it’s full of original artworks—Rubens and Titians, utterly unbelievable stuff. It was featured in Hello! a while back and there were all these rumors that they were actually looted Nazi stuff and they got a tap on the shoulder from the IFAR, but I think that’s bollocks.”

“I can’t work out whether he said anything useful.” I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to scrub away the weariness that was starting to settle over me like a black cloud. “That stuff about Cole, that was weird, right?”

“Y-yes . . . I guess. But if it was around four, does that really help? And, to be honest, I’m starting to think that he’s maybe just making stuff up for effect. That thing about me having a girl in my cabin was pure bollocks. You do believe that, right?”

“I—” I felt a lump rise in my throat. I was so tired. I was so tired. But I couldn’t rest. Jesus, so much for this trip being the making of my career. If I carried on causing trouble like this I could end up with an address book full of enemies, not contacts. “Yes, of course,” I managed. Ben looked at me, as if trying to gauge whether I was telling the truth.

“Good,” he said at last. “Because, I swear, there was no one in my cabin. Unless someone got in while I was out, of course.”

“Do you think he heard us?” I asked, more to change the subject than because I wanted to know. “Before, I mean. The way he came round that corner—you wouldn’t think someone so big could creep up on you like that.”

Ben shrugged.

“I doubt it. I don’t think he’s the type to hold a grudge, anyway.”

I said nothing, but inwardly I wasn’t sure I agreed. Alexander struck me as exactly the type to hold a grudge, and enjoy holding it, too.

“What do you want to do now?” Ben asked. “Want me to come with you to find Bullmer?”

I shook my head. I needed to go back to my cabin, get some food inside me. And besides, I wasn’t at all sure I wanted Ben to come with me to see Lord Bullmer.

- CHAPTER 19 -

The door to my cabin was locked, but inside an open sandwich was resting on a room service tray on the dressing table, alongside a bottle of mineral water. It had been there some time, judging by the runnels of condensation on the side.

I wasn’t hungry, but I’d had nothing since breakfast, and most of that I’d thrown up, so I sat and forced myself to eat it. It was prawn and hard-boiled egg on heavy rye bread, and as I chewed it, I watched the sea rise and fall outside the window, its ceaseless movement echoing the restless thoughts that were running around inside my head.

Cole, Alexander, and Archer had actually been in the same room as that girl—I was almost sure of it. Her face had been turned away from the camera, and it was hard for me to remember the brief flash of features I’d seen through the open cabin door yesterday, but the jolt of recognition I had felt when I saw the picture had been like an electric shock—I had to hang on to that certainty.

Archer at least had an alibi—but I was beginning to realize that it was one that rested entirely on Ben’s evidence, and that he had his own reasons for wanting that room to be secure. And no matter how you spun it, he had deliberately lied to me. If it hadn’t been for Cole’s chance remark, I would never have known that Ben himself had left the cabin.

But Ben. Ben? Surely not. If I could trust anyone on board this boat it had to be him, right?

I wasn’t sure anymore.

I swallowed the final crust of bread, wiped my fingers on the napkin, and stood, feeling the rock and sway of the boat beneath me. While I’d eaten, a sea mist had crept in, and the room had become darker, so I switched on the light before checking my phone. There was nothing there—nothing from Judah, either. I refreshed, hoping without hope for an e-mail from someone, anyone. I didn’t dare think about Judah—about what his silence meant.

When the CONNECTION FAILED notification came up, I felt a shift in my stomach that was mingled fear and relief. Relief because it meant that perhaps, just perhaps, Judah had been trying to contact me. That his silence didn’t mean what I feared it might.

But fear because the longer the Internet was down, the more I was starting to think that someone was deliberately trying to stop me from accessing the Web. And that was starting to make me feel very worried indeed.

The door to suite 1, Nobel, was the same anonymous white wood as the rest of the cabin doors, but you could tell from the fact that it was by itself in the prow of the boat, with a blank expanse of corridor stretching away behind us, that it must be something pretty special.

I knocked, cautiously. I’m not sure what I expected—Richard Bullmer, or perhaps even a maid, neither would have surprised me. But I was thrown completely when the door opened and Anne Bullmer was standing there.

She had clearly been crying, her dark eyes rimmed with red and circled with deep shadows, and there were traces still on her gaunt cheeks.

I blinked, completely losing the thread of the carefully prepared request I’d rehearsed in my head. Phrases skittered through my mind, each more inappropriate and impossible than the other: Are you okay? What’s wrong? Is there anything I can do?

I said none of them, just gulped.

“Yes?” she said, with a touch of defiance. She brought up a corner of her silk robe and wiped at her eyes, and then put her chin up. “Can I help you?”