Jake picked up a pair of binoculars and swept the horizon. “Weird. Are they ignoring us?”

“Perhaps they can’t respond.”

“How so?”

“If there’s nobody on board. If they’re incapacitated. If their communications system is down. Or, maybe they’re ignoring us.”

Jake put down the field glasses. They didn’t help; they were too far away to catch sight of their target. He wandered over to the captain’s chair and sat down, perched on the edge. “So we still don’t know who they might be.”

“Actually, we might have a bit of a lead. Now we’re closer, the Ambush’s sonar has been able to take a much more detailed look at her.”

“And?”

“And…” McNair glanced around, found a clipboard and started to read from it. “She’s sixty metres in length, with a beam of eleven metres, although that’s just what’s in the water. She could be a little wider at deck level. She has one stern thruster and is travelling at eight knots. From the vibrations she’s putting out, she has a single engine, diesel.”

“They can tell all that from sonar?”

“Oh yes.”

“Still, that doesn’t tell us where it came from, or who’s on board.”

“True. But from the dimensions, they ran a search in their vessel-identification database.”

Jake looked at McNair sideways on. “You’re going to tell me they can identify her from just that information?”

McNair chuckled, and dropped the clipboard back onto the console. “No, they can’t. But only because her dimensions are common. They came up with a few hundred possible matches. Taking into account our location, they can discount more than half of those as being too far away. Even so, that’s a lot of possible ships.”

“You really have a database that lists every ship in the world?”

“Every registered vessel, yes. If she’s not registered — a smugglers’ ship, or pirates for example — then we might not know about her. Although we do hold records on most unregistered pirate ships.”

“How…Where does all this information come from?” Jake scratched the back of his head, and sat down again.

“Friendly governments share their registration data.”

“And unfriendly ones?”

“That’s what you have security services for, to source that kind of intelligence.” McNair grinned. “Anyway, what it comes down to is that she’s most likely a large fishing vessel, a research ship, or a patrol boat — police or navy.”

“Wow. You lot never cease to amaze me.” Jake stared out to sea again. He hoped it wasn’t a fishing boat they would find. The irony of losing Stieg to find more fishermen would be too cruel.

• • •

Grace Garet had also had trouble sleeping, although not entirely for the same reasons. Certainly the prospect of meeting other survivors held excitement for her, but she was preoccupied with the Moran case.

She had been convinced that something untoward was going on, that someone was claiming their rations despite their absence. And yet, there was Mrs Moran herself, collecting dinner. Grace was a naturally suspicious person, she believed it stood her in good stead as a detective, and so she had challenged Mrs Moran when she had handed over her ration slip. The poor old lady had been quite taken aback, and became somewhat flustered as Grace had demanded she prove who she was. Even Grace had to admit that carrying a means of formal identification was not something anybody thought about now. With such a tiny population, and with no particular benefit to be had from impersonating someone else, there was simply no need. Even so, she had insisted, and Mrs Moran had searched her handbag and found, to her relief, that she had been carrying her passport. The document proved conclusively that Mrs Claire Moran was who she said she was. The passport had been renewed shortly before the cruise, and the photograph inside left no room for doubt.

Grace had turned the events over in her mind for much of the night. Something about the situation just felt wrong, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. At five o’clock she got out of bed and started writing up her notes. Max had insisted on a full written report. “If you want to be a detective, you can do the work of a detective,” he had said. “And that includes the paperwork.”

She had an hour to kill before she had to be ready to report for duty. Max had called an early meeting of the whole team. Tensions were sure to be running high on the ship as they approached and contacted the new vessel. Security would have an important role to play.

• • •

The calculations and predictions proved to be accurate. A nine o’clock, the new ship was within sight.

“Captain, HMS Ambush reports they are surfacing.” Lucya relayed the message from her position at the communications station. “Coote wants to talk to you.”

“Put him on the speaker.”

She punched some buttons, and the submarine captain’s voice boomed out, heard by the full complement of officers on the bridge.

“Good morning, Arcadia. Coote here! We’re coming up for some fresh air, and to get a better look at our new friends.”

“Morning, Coote.” Jake was standing at the front window, binoculars in hand once more. “Any luck on narrowing down the vessel type?”

“Young Eagle-eyes is on the case as we speak, old boy. We’ve got excellent visuals. Stand by…”

There was a tense silence as everyone waited for Coote to report back.

“I believe we have a name. She’s called Lance. Ralf is looking her up now.”

“She’s bigger than I expected,” Jake said. “Taller. And she’s blue. Erica will be pleased.”

“Sorry? Ah, here we are. Lance: research vessel, operated by the Norwegian Polar Institute. Also served as a coastguard vessel in the Barents Sea.”

Lucya looked up from her console. “Yes! That’s why I know the name. I’ve seen her before, when I was patrolling the Barents. We suspected her of spying, but could never prove anything. She had some very advanced sonar equipment on board.”

“Indeed!” Coote bellowed. “According to our information she has two wet labs, two further labs, a rather fancy echo sounder — capable of detecting a single fish at kilometre range — some split beam transducers, and a highly advanced sonar. Eagle-eyes is getting quite excited, although I must admit it’s mostly gobbledygook to me. Let’s see…winches, motion sensors, a veritable floating research centre.”

“All very impressive,” Jake said, putting down his binoculars and returning to his chair. “But do we know if there’s anyone on board?”

“Well, they appear to have stopped, which is unsurprising as they must now be able to see us. So I would say yes, there is. We are trying to detect the presence of any heat signatures with our infrared sensors, but we are still a bit too far away to get an accurate measure. Now, the main reason for my call. I suggest myself and some submariners make the initial approach. You know how I feel about this from the rafts we’ve picked up. Never know how the chaps might react.”

“I agree. But I’d like to be with you. As captain, and as chairman of the committee, it’s my duty.”

“Of course, old chap. In that case, I’ll see you on the Ambush as soon as the ramp is in place.”

The speaker went dead, the conversation over.

“Jake, are you sure you want to go?” Lucya looked worried. “Shouldn’t we leave it to the professionals?”

“If a bunch of gun-toting navy men turn up, it’s going to look pretty hostile to whoever is on that ship. Someone needs to be the friendly face of the community. Chuck, you have the helm. The Ambush will talk you in, slow and steady as we get closer.”

Chuck nodded once.

“Dave, keep a good lookout. With all eyes on the Lance, someone needs to be making sure we don’t run into anything else. Lucya, you’re in charge until I get back.”

Jake took a look around at his skeleton crew. It was a great relief to him that he could have such confidence in them. He walked towards the door, but Lucya called after him.