Chapter 34 Ore
Chapter 34
Ore
Back out in the maze, Ore was eager to be reunited with her pile of notes. She headed upwards and then once she made it to the top deck she figured out her way back to the room, trotting all the way.
She passed one of the stewardesses first, offering up a benign smile, and then at the bottom of yet another flight of stairs, she spotted a figure she was determined to avoid. It was Claude, walking up towards her calmly. Ore’s heartbeat quickened as he approached, and she couldn’t be sure if she was going to fight or flee. For now it was freeze, as she stood motionless at the top of the stairs. Once he reached her, she stood to the side and he passed without a word, his expression impregnable.
As Ore’s pulse returned to normal, she took a deep breath. You’re overreacting, she told herself, as she bounded down the stairs, trying to expel the nervous energy from her body.
Once outside her door though, she stopped cold again, noticing immediately that the door was not entirely shut. The lock hadn’t clicked into place, as though someone had left in a rush but made sure the door closed quietly behind them. An image of Claude flashed into her mind, his hand easing the door closed behind him as he checked no one was coming. Or maybe it was someone else altogether, on their way in … Ore’s heart was back to racing as she tentatively pushed the door open.
There was no one inside, obviously , she thought, and wondered when she had become so paranoid. She had probably been the one in a rush that morning. She laid her bag, with this morning’s notes from Carlos’ interview, down on the bed, and went into the bathroom.
She looked at herself in the mirror, admiring the new sun-kissed shade of her arms and face. She tried to centre herself. It had been a long day, and she realised she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, and that had been a rushed affair – she’d snuck into the mess for a slice of toast before the crew came in for their food because she hadn’t fancied another terse interaction with Vicky.
She’d go and find Carlos to see if he could send some food to her room again. She splashed her face with water and reached for her perfume bottle, instinctively, with her left hand. Ore was not a particularly tidy person but she was a creature of habit. Wherever she stayed she’d keep her favourite bottle of jasmine oil and orange blossom scent on the left side of the sink.
Her hand landed clunkily on the porcelain. The bottle wasn’t there. She frowned; she was sure she’d put some on this morning. In the bedroom she checked the bedside table, but there was nothing. Back in the bathroom she stood with her hands on her hips and rotated slowly, scanning every surface. Finally, she reached for the mirror and pulled. It was one of those slim cabinets and behind the glass on the middle shelf, was the squat, pear-shaped bottle.
She stared at it, almost afraid to touch it, and then closed the cabinet again. Her reflection looked back at her, scared. Someone had been in her room. She rushed over to her suitcase and rifled until she found her notebook, still nestled between her laptop and a pair of trousers. They didn’t look like they’d been disturbed. Ore took a deep breath.
The thought of Claude looking through her things made her feel sick. She scoured the rest of the room but nothing else seemed out of place. Granted it was hard to tell, as she’d left a fair amount of her own mess.
Why would he have moved her perfume bottle? It felt like some sort of psychological warfare, like he just wanted her to know he’d been there. She shivered. She’d have to find a better hiding place for her notes. If he’d come once and failed to find anything, surely he would try again.
In the meantime she triple-locked the door, even going as far as to push a chair up against the handle. On the one hand it felt dramatic, but on the other, she had no idea really who she was dealing with. She opened her laptop, and for good measure she plugged in her little-used dongle. She wasn’t about to risk doing any more research on the boat’s Wi-Fi; she was up against tech entrepreneurs for God’s sake. She couldn’t believe she’d been so careless up until now.
She was glad that she’d followed Gail, her old professor’s advice about paper notes – ‘always keep a physical copy, and preferably keep it on you, at all times.’ Gail had been talking about reporting on black op sites during the Iraq War. Ore hadn’t expected to need to follow her guidance on a luxury mega yacht, but then again, in a couple of ways it wasn’t so dissimilar: a void of legal jurisdiction and a powerful enemy with almost unlimited resources …
Ore was trying not to panic when the phone rang, and she almost jumped out of her skin. With shaking hands she picked it up.
‘Mademoiselle, I am calling to see if you are coming to dinner or you want room service?’ It was Carlos. Ore sighed with relief, and then felt a little silly about allowing herself to indulge so entirely in the horror movie version of her own life.
‘Ahh, Carlos, you read my mind.’ Ore’s stomach grumbled in agreement. ‘Could I get dinner in my room again? Sorry if that’s more work for you. I don’t think I can face any more socialising tonight …’
‘No problem at all, I’ll make you something special. Leave it with me!’ Carlos’ breezy tone calmed Ore, and as she put the phone down, she began to consider the possibility that maybe she had absentmindedly put the perfume in the cabinet, or maybe whoever cleaned her room had? She decided to try and believe this version of events, for the sake of her own sanity.
Ore crawled under the sheets and turned the TV on, flicking through channels mindlessly, until her racing thoughts slowed. She settled on a reality TV show with a premise she couldn’t quite fathom and soon enough had fallen into a deep sleep.