“Sure. It’s a two-step process,” Per parroted her own words back to her that she’d told Dr Chakrabarti and the paramedic who tended to the Oblov’s housekeeper. A two-step process like the poison primer and the antidote, like the compound applied to Every Drop’s pipes and whatever the saboteur had put in the water.
“It’s an ingenious idea, with so many application possibilities,” Per was saying.
“Did it come from the White House, the intel that he’d plagiarised the work?”
“I can’t confirm that.”
“But you can’t deny it either?”
Per laughed, “You’re Mathias’ daughter. I’ll see you soon.”
“You will, Lily and I will be there for Christmas.” Eva would find her.
How, the thought hammered at her as the plane took off, Lily’s favourite part of the journey. To distract herself, Eva picked up one of the brochures Addison had discarded. The tap gushing water in shades of black and grey on the cover felt like a pointing finger.
“Morocco’s done some interesting things that Every Drop might want to emulate.” Addison nodded at the one she was flicking through. “The Moroccan president is all over YouTube proving how safe their water is. He’s a thirsty man, if the publicity is believable. That’s part of the reason we’re going there, photo ops and all that. It’s a couple of years away, I’d guess, in terms of investment capability, but it’s worth thinking about it for long-term planning.”
If Every Drop survived that long, if Nora’s team found nothing untoward in the accounts, if, if, if.
To keep herself from throwing up, Eva read furiously. It had been her best defence against the bleakness that haunted her childhood after her father was gone. ‘Don’t be like him’, every time her mother snapped her favourite saying, Eva would fill her mind with the words on the page of whichever book she grabbed. ‘What are you crying for?’ That question made Eva shout them in her head. ‘He didn’t love us anyway. Look how he left us’, Eva silently screaming any written salve in a frenzy over and over to block out her mother’s hateful words. A pathetic plaster stuck over an amputation.
Addison was right. It was impressive how Morocco was making strides to change from a desert state to one with water available for everyone. Rolling the tech they were installing out worldwide would end the worst of the world’s water problems. Their sideways-thinking solutions were ingenious.
“Do you want me to redress that?” Luke nodded at her forehead when she put the brochure down.
She padded it with a soft touch. “I guess it probably needs changing.”
They took the seats nearest the cockpit, leaving Addison to work undisturbed, turning them to the inside, facing each other.
“How’s it looking?” Eva asked when Luke took off the dressing.
“Like you took a fall. I’m no doctor but it seems to be healing okay, you might get away with just a small scar.” He cleaned up around her stitches with an antiseptic wipe. “You know you’re more than the sum of your parts.” Her gaze snapped up from her lap to hazel eyes, close to hers. “Just an observation. You’re more than Mathias Janssen’s daughter, CEO of Every Drop, Lily’s mum.” He laughed away the intensity. “Apparently I’m more than Luke Fox too, psychoanalyst or too much whisky at altitude. But while we’re being honest, I think you forget you’re Eva too. You should try putting that first.”
She laughed it away. “So what do you do when you’re not psychoanalysing or working with Addison?”
“Or practicing my Florence Nightingale?” He leant closer and whispered dramatically. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
“How did I know you were going to say that?”
“You want some company in Marrakech? Addison’s going to be busy at the summit. I’ve been here a couple of times. I speak the language, it might help.”
“It may get. . .” What? She had no idea.
“Sounds like just my type of thing.” He winked and then dabbed the clean dressing onto her forehead.
As the plane began its descent, Eva glimpsed a snake of green, vibrant against the barrenness of the desert landscape. Stark white against the redness of the soil, a collection of what must have been mega-sized rocks precisely placed.
“It says ‘God, country, king’” Luke translated.
Squares of greenery interspersed amongst large tracts of desert that lined the approach to Menara Airport swelled to fill the landscape beneath them. The plane was heading towards a dense jumble of square buildings crowded as far as she could see. How could she find Lily in there?
She’d only just stepped onto the tarmac into the welcome warmth of the North African sun, than a call to prayer rang out, the exotic richness of voice that underlined how foreign was this city that held her daughter.
Addison’s car pulled up outside the Hotel Adina where the G20 summit was taking place. The fountain display that welcomed them rivalled anything in Las Vegas, one desert state catching up with another. Behind the pool was a circle of security she wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of. Each guard looked like he could take her and Luke on with one hand and half an effort.
Porters materialised to deal with Addison’s suitcase and look questions at Eva and Luke over their lack of tipping opportunities.
“You’re very kind, Addison. I can’t thank you enough.” Eva held her hand out to him.
“I think we’re past that.” He leant forward and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m here until the day after the summit if you want a ride home.”
Eva watched him pass through the security cordon and go inside, shielding her eyes from the glaring sun, looking at each of the closed windows as though she could somehow see past them into the rooms beyond to locate Lily.
A brief conversation with the hotel reception told Luke neither
