The discussions with the assembled academics had been purposely shortened, to guarantee coverage from the journalists travelling in the liner down the east coast to the Panama Canal. The Pride of America stopped at Hawaii during its crossing of the Pacific and Lu chartered another plane to fly in journalists demanding access as the result of the concerted publicity during the voyage.

The arrival in Hong Kong was even more dramatic than the departure from New York. Lu had instructed his tanker and liner fleet to assemble and the Pride of America sailed along a five-mile avenue of welcoming, hooting vessels. All the time, it was preceded by two helicopters, between which was supported a massive pennant spelling out its new name, and on the final mile it had to negotiate fire boats which had introduced dye into their water tanks, creating Technicolor fountains of greeting.

It was mid-morning before the Chinese millionaire and son reached their house on the far side of the Peak. Immediately they entered the sunken lounge a servant brought in tea, but it was John Lu who solicitously poured it for his father, standing back and waiting for an indication of approval.

‘Very nice,’ said the older man.

John smiled gratefully, the attitude one of constant deference.

‘The publicity has been fantastic,’ he said. He spoke hopefully, anxious his father would agree with the opinion.

Lu nodded. ‘It’s a matter of organisation.’

‘Surely you didn’t expect this amount of coverage?’

‘No,’ admitted Lu. ‘Not even I had expected it to go so well.’

‘Let’s hope everything else is as successful,’ said the younger man.