Jake shook his head.

“Korean. Specifically, North Korean.”

“What are North Koreans doing on a Norwegian science ship?” Jake asked, staring out at the blue-and-white boat. “And where on earth did they come from?”

“That,” Vardy said gravely, “is the real question. Where indeed?”

• • •

Grace approached the door, dragging her feet and keeping her head low. Her pulse was racing. Should she knock? What should she say? Being up on deck eleven suddenly didn’t feel like such a clever idea. Perhaps it would have been better to discuss the plan with Max, she wondered. No. He would have ridiculed her, said she was being paranoid, then sent her off on another pointless patrol. Evidence was required. Besides, what was the danger, really?

When she was within two paces of cabin 1124, the door magically opened before her. Whoever was behind it stayed behind it, out of view. The entrance to the suite was a short, narrow hallway, with a cupboard on the right. Grace could see a couple of armchairs facing away from her at the end of the hall, but no sign of life. She hesitated.

“In!” The husky voice came from behind the open door. It carried such authority that almost automatically she took a step forwards. She heard the door close behind her, but didn’t dare turn to see who was there.

She walked on, and the hallway opened out into a spacious room decorated in shades of cream and brown. The armchairs, she realised, were for show. Anyone glancing in while the door was open would see them and not suspect that the rest of the furniture in the cabin had been piled into a corner, which was the case. At least in the salon of the suite anyway. The door to the bedroom was closed; there was no chance of seeing what was in there.

“What you here for? Food, fags or booze?”

Grace swung round to see a skinny man dressed in black jeans and a heavy-metal t-shirt. She guessed he couldn’t have been more than twenty-two, twenty-three at a push. He was leaning against the wall, one foot on the floor, the other raised, sole pressed against the cream wallpaper.

“You’re new. Not seen you here before. How did you find us?” Something in his voice made Grace afraid. A menacing undertone, a hint of madness. She breathed deeply, but quietly, through her nose, maintaining a calm exterior.

“Friend of mine,” she said, her voice flat. “Said you had smokes?”

“American?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I don’t like Americans.”

“Even paying customers?”

“Depends what they’re paying with. What you got?”

Grace tried hard not to let her delight at being right, show. This was the black market she had suspected, no doubt about that.

She’d considered the question of payment before putting on her casual clothes and coming up to deck eleven. She’d spent a good fifteen minutes in her cabin, racking her brain for what she could offer in return for whatever it was they were selling. Cash was obviously of no value to anyone. It had to be something they could sell on, at a profit. The problem was that she had nothing. She didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, and she had no chocolate, or food, or anything else that she thought might be in demand in their rationed and restricted world. The answer had come to her in a flash. It was dangerous, Max would undoubtedly have said reckless, but she was sure it would work. Besides, anything she gave them she would get back, when she took her evidence to Max and they busted the operation wide open.

“How about this?” She reached into her jacket pocket and wrapped her fingers around the prize.

“Stop right there, miss!” The husky voice again, right behind her. “Take your hand out now, nice and slowly. Here, let me get that for you.”

A suntanned hand reached around her. It was attached to a hairy tattooed arm, but Grace wasn’t paying attention to the artwork, she was watching the fingers enter her pocket and pull out her payment. The arm held it aloft in front of her face, for the skinny man to see.

“Oh dear. What did you think you were going to do with that? Shoot me? Arrest me?”

“You don’t understand—” Grace began.

“What is there to not understand, cop woman? You marched in here with a gun. I might not be the sharpest tool in the box, but I think I understand perfectly.”

“It’s payment.”

The skinny man raised his eyebrows. He pushed himself off the wall with his foot, and took the gun from the arm.

“It’s not loaded. I don’t have any ammunition, but I thought it would still be worth something to you.”

Skinny checked the weapon, holding it at arm’s length as if worried it might be booby trapped. Grace saw that he knew how to handle the pistol; it held no secrets for him except one.

“Where did you get this?”

“I found it,” she lied. “During the virus outbreak, when the ship was mostly deserted. I found it, and took it, because I thought it might come in handy. And now it has.”

“Liar!” The skinny man spat the word at her, his nose an inch from hers. He held up his arms like a chimpanzee and began to dance around her, hopping from foot to foot. “Liar, liar, pants on fire!”

The owner of the tattooed arm chuckled behind her back. Grace could feel her cheeks flushing red. She tried to control her breathing. She couldn’t show fear. She couldn’t show any emotion.

The young man stopped dancing and pulled an exaggerated expression of depression. “Oh, cop lady doesn’t want to play. Listen, love. We’re running a professional joint here. We keep an eye on what’s happening in the ’hood, you get me? And what’s happening here is that you spent a happy hour outside our door yesterday. Wore your security uniform and all. So don’t come the innocent with me. Now, this gun? I have to admit, that’s a bonus. Wasn’t expecting that. So, yeah, thanks for the payment. Now we just have to decide what to do with you.”

“You can’t do anything to me. The rest of the security team will be up here any second now. I’d suggest you run. Try and find somewhere to hide for a very long time.”

Skinny laughed. “You hear that? Run? Security team? Don’t make me laugh. We’ve been following you since yesterday. Nobody’s coming, love. Now…how to dispose of you? Did you know people go missing on cruise ships all the time, and nobody looks for them? Ain’t no law at sea. Nobody cares when it happens. I think I know exactly what we can do with you.”

Grace felt adrenaline flood into her bloodstream. She wanted to run, to escape through the door and to the safety of the crowded sun deck. But she knew that wouldn’t be possible. The tattooed arm came back around her, joined by its twin. She felt them both grip her tightly, and then she was lifted off her feet. The leering face of the skinny man was the last thing she remembered seeing.

• • •

Russell Vardy arrived on the bridge at the same time as Lucya. He made small talk with McNair — who still had the helm — while she and Jake had a moment together.

“How was she?” Jake’s expression gave away the concern he was trying to hide.

“Okay, really. She heard some of the gunfire, but she thought it was a bad dream and went back to sleep. I told her what had happened on the way down to the classrooms. Just the…how do you say? The broad strokes.”

Jake nodded. “It’s as well. She’ll hear it from others.”

“That’s what I thought. She wanted to know when we can meet the new people. I said she’d have to wait a bit longer. We saw the Lance through the window on the way. She jumped for joy when she saw it was blue. I mean, really, jumped. Anyway, they’re going to talk about it in class today, and then Miss Linders said they would do some drawings or make a scrapbook to welcome the new survivors.”

“Great, that’s great. I hope the rest of the people on this ship will be as welcoming. Somehow, I doubt it.”

“So, Captain Noah.” Lucya stood up straighter and gave a half-salute, smirking as she did so. “Where are we heading?”