‘Did Paul Ford ever give you any gifts? Cash, jewellery – gold, perhaps? I’m sure you’re aware he was an extremely wealthy man.’

‘You think this is about . . . money?’ Mia grunted through the pain. ‘Remote medicine is a vocation. Paul’s only extravagance is good Scotch.’

‘You mean, was,’ Boerman corrected her.

The smug certainty in his eyes was like a knife to her heart as she understood they were behind the mission going silent. That it was the very reason they were here.

At her stunned reaction, Sura stood up.

‘Let her go. She knows nothing.’

‘What have you done?’ Mia wasn’t just thinking of Paul – it was the loving staff and their wide family of patients. ‘Damn it, answer me, you evil fucking bitch.’

Sura stared at her for a long moment before answering.

‘You know, Doctor Carter, I think seeing the look on your face when you find out the truth will be well worth the boredom of keeping your sanctimonious skin alive. Get your things packed up. We’re dropping you and Elvis ashore.’

Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Thrown, battered and bruised, into his old cabin, Rob Nash seethed. His heart wanted to keep swinging, bring on round two, but his head knew his body wasn’t up to it. Not with two armed soldiers outside, who were highly agitated and probably as scared as he was.

Nash lay down on the lower bunk and stared unblinking at the grey steel bulkhead, which quivered as the throbbing engines drove the ship. He was frightened for Mia and Frank. And he wasn’t buying the crap about eventual deportation. They were heading upriver, into the heart of fucking darkness, and the odds of coming back were diminishing with every nautical mile.

Two awful days passed, with no outside contact except for the delivery of bottled water, snacks and noodle cups, and the removal of a stinking toilet bucket. The stony-faced PNGDF guard refused to speak, and Nash had no idea if Frank was still alive, or what had happened to Mia.

The memory of how good her body had felt against his kept infiltrating his mind, setting up a churning turmoil of desire and guilt over Natalie. The familiar ache spread through his chest as he tried to conjure her being with his mind, but Nat was gone, and she was never coming back. Nash hung his head. It had only been a year . . . how could he be developing feelings for someone else?