Chapter 18
Ore
Ore found Chuck on the third deck, alone and on the phone. She hovered awkwardly a few paces behind him, not wanting to interrupt but also tempted to eavesdrop.
The wind wasn’t working in her favour so she only caught snippets.
‘Near the site … three days … Klauparten … reef.’ It was an intriguing and utterly meaningless collection of words but Ore made a mental note, if only to flesh out her sorry-looking mind map.
Chuck abruptly ended the call and Ore leapt back before making as if she had just walked onto the deck. Still, he looked startled. ‘Ore, what are you doing here? I usually like to be alone when conducting business.’ He was smiling but Ore understood that he did not take kindly to being ambushed.
‘I was just looking for you to ask what all that noise was about?’ Again she figured it was best to play a little dumb.
‘The choppers? Oh yes, a few of my friends and business associates have flown over to enjoy a little getaway.’
‘Ahh so it’s nothing to do with Pagonis then? I was hoping maybe I could speak to one or two, but if they’re just on holiday I wouldn’t want to intrude.’
‘My dear, we’re all far too successful to be afraid of mixing a little business and pleasure. I’m sure they’d be happy to speak to you.’
Ore laughed, if only because she had no idea what to say.
‘And how have you and the captain been getting along?’ Chuck continued, giving Ore a once-over that made her skin prickle.
She laughed again. ‘Oh fine, he’s been very helpful.’ She kept her tone even and light.
‘The two of you together make a very attractive pair.’
It’s strange,thought Ore,how the body can read a situation so much faster than the mind.Before he had even finished the sentence her heart was beating faster and her muscles had tensed, ready to fight or flee.
‘He’s a very handsome man, but I am not even remotely successful enough to mix business and pleasure.’
Chuck held her gaze for a moment, and she knew that this was some sort of showdown. She was not about to whimper into the shadows. She held her ground and something akin to excitement seemed to flash across Chuck’s face. A predator revelling in the thrill of the chase.
After what felt a beat too long, Chuck laughed. ‘Well played, Ore. I’m sure my associates will enjoy your company very much. Come with me.’
He walked ahead and she followed, trying to ignore the gnawing in her stomach.
When they got to the top deck, the half dozen men already had drinks in hand, lazing around the huge glass-top table.
‘Here he is at last. Keeping us waiting, Chucky?’ One of the men – tall, red-headed and pink-limbed – stood to shake Chuck’s hand.
‘Treat them mean, keep them keen, eh.’ This one was older, maybe in his sixties or even seventies, his hair surprisingly thick for its almost white hue.
‘You call this mean? My wallet trembles at the idea of what you think generosity looks like.’ This man received a hug from Chuck, and a hearty slap on the back.
One by one he made his way around, before turning to Ore from the head of the table. ‘Richard, Gerry, Ousman, Freddie, Claude, Roger …’ He gestured over to Ore. ‘This is Ore. She’s a reporter for theNew York Heraldand a very special guest of mine. Please be nice.’
Ore smiled and was glad that her flushing cheeks weren’t obvious.
‘Hello, all, very nice to meet you,’ she said, trying not to sound intimidated but instead sounding overly formal in contrast to all that collegiate banter she’d just witnessed.
‘A reporter! Aren’t you worried about all those skeletons in the closet, Chucky?’ It was the white-haired man again and when he turned back to Ore, he winked.
All the men laughed, although Ore noticed some more than others. Ousman was a serious-looking man, his bald head glinting in the sunlight. Claude too was not as jocular as the rest of them. He was stern, with an almost military-style buzz cut and the sort of pale grey eyes that made his face look otherworldly. He caught Ore’s gaze as she scanned over the table, and held it for a moment too long.
‘Ore has asked me if she might be able to speak to some of you for the piece she’s writing. It’s a profile.’
‘As long as it’s not of you.’ The redhead’s turn at being the joker.
