Alone on the upper deck, the man in the immaculately cut evening suit prowls restlessly. He is like a lion, or a caged panther. Smoke drifts from the tip of his expensive cigarette. Perhaps he is waiting for someone, or something.

Impatiently, he checks his wristwatch.

He glances up at the storm clouds, which are rushing to arrange themselves about the boat. He frowns.

Sounds of softly clinking cutlery drift up from the ship’s galley. Soon, dinner will be served.