mission. They should be black with a gold logo on the cover. Dekker works for a security outfit called DX5.’
Andrea thought for a moment. As much as she feared Mogens Dekker, the fact that there was a killer on board wasn’t going to vanish if she simply looked the other way and continued writing her story, hoping for the best. She had to be pragmatic, and teaming up with Harel and Father Fowler wasn’t a bad idea.
‘All right. But I hope that Cro-Magnon doesn’t cut me up into tiny pieces, or I’ll come back as a ghost and fucking haunt the both of you.’
Andrea headed for the middle of passageway 7. The plan was quite simple: Harel had located Dekker near the bridge and was keeping him busy with questions about vaccinations for his soldiers. Fowler would keep watch on the stairs between the first and second decks – Dekker’s cabin was on level two. Unbelievably, his door was unlocked.
The small, bare cabin was almost identical to her own. A narrow bunk made up tightly, army style.
A metal cabinet, a small bathroom, and a desk. On it a pile of black folders.
She was reaching her hand towards them when a silky voice almost made her spit out her heart.
‘Well, well. To what do I owe the honour?’
24
THE PORT OF AQABA PIERS, JORDAN
Andrea struggled not to scream. Instead she turned around with a smile on her face.
‘Hi, Mr Dekker. Or is it Colonel Dekker? I was looking for you.’
The hired hand was so big and stood so close to Andrea that she had to tilt her head backward to avoid speaking to his neck.
‘Mr Dekker is fine. Did you need something… Andrea?’
‘I came to apologise for showing up yesterday afternoon while you were escorting Mr Kayn from his plane.’
Dekker limited himself to a grunt. The brute was blocking the small cabin door and was so close that Andrea could see more clearly than she wished the reddish scar across his face, his brown hair, blue eyes, and two days’ worth of stubble. The smell of his cologne was overpowering.
‘Well, say something.’
‘You say something, Andrea. Or haven’t you come to apologise?’
Andrea suddenly recalled a
‘Forgive me.’
‘No problem. Luckily your friend Fowler saved the situation. But you should be careful. Almost all of our sorrows spring out of our relations with other people.’
Dekker took a step forward. Andrea backed up.
‘That’s very deep. Schopenhauer?’
‘Ah, you know the classics. Or are you getting lessons on the ship?’
‘I’ve always been self-taught.’
‘Well, the great teacher said: ‘A man’s face as a rule says more, and more interesting things, than his mouth.’ And your face looks guilty.’
Andrea glanced sideways at the files, although she regretted doing so immediately. She had to avoid suspicion, even if it was too late.
‘The great teacher also said: ‘Every man takes the limits of his own field of vision for the limits of the world.’ ’
Dekker showed his teeth as he smiled in satisfaction.
‘Very true. I think you’d better go and get ready – we’re going ashore in about an hour.’
‘Yes, of course. Excuse me,’ said Andrea, attempting to go past him.
At first Dekker didn’t budge but finally he moved the brick wall of his body, allowing the reporter to slip through the space between the desk and himself.
Andrea would always remember what happened next as a piece of cunning on her part, an ingenious trick to obtain the information she needed from right under the nose of the South African. The reality was more prosaic.
She tripped.
The young woman’s left leg caught on Dekker’s left foot, which didn’t move an inch. Andrea lost her balance and fell forward, bracing her arms against the desk to avoid slamming her face against the edge. The contents of the files spilled onto the floor.
Andrea looked at the ground in shock and then up at Dekker, who was staring at her, smoke coming out of his nose.
‘Oops.’
‘… so I stuttered an apology and ran out. You should’ve seen the way he looked at me. I’ll never forget it.’
‘I’m sorry I wasn’t able to stop him,’ Father Fowler said, shaking his head. ‘He must have come down through some service hatchway from the bridge.’
The three of them were in the infirmary, Andrea seated on a bed with Fowler and Harel looking worriedly at her.
‘I didn’t even hear him come in. It seems incredible that someone his size could move so quietly. And all that effort for nothing. Anyway, thank you for the Schopenhauer quote, Father. For a moment there he was speechless.’
‘You’re welcome. He’s a pretty boring philosopher. It was hard to recall a decent aphorism.’
‘Andrea, do you remember anything you saw when the files fell to the floor?’ Harel interrupted.
Andrea closed her eyes in concentration.
‘There were photos of the desert, plans of what looked like houses… I don’t know.
