Watching her come alive, Nash had the strange sense of looking into a mirror. This woman was obviously one hell of a doctor, but what he was seeing was an adventurous free spirit.

Perhaps aware she had revealed too much, she looked shyly at him.

‘It’s getting late. Will you stay with me tonight?’

At the surprised look on his face, she gasped and covered her mouth.

‘I meant on the top bunk!’ she added with a laugh. ‘It would make me feel safer.’

‘Surely after my exploits today I deserve the bottom bunk.’ Nash chuckled.

Mia’s white teeth gleamed wickedly. ‘You can take your pick. Just promise not to snore.’

Nash stretched out on the top bunk, his feet hanging over the edge. With the fan languidly moving the hot air, he was painfully aware of Mia’s proximity.

Stop it, he told himself. The fact you’re even thinking about her is wrong.

He turned his mind to the expedition. What had his father said? Use your instincts and make smart choices. Today, he’d dived into a crocodile-infested river and fought a mob to save Mia. He was on the payroll of a dysfunctional and dodgy syndicate, heading for a war zone with a psychotic dive partner and – in the unlikely event he ever got to the bloody Hoosenbeck – a potentially life-threatening showdown with claustrophobia. Despite the sheer insanity of it, Nash was heartened by the sense something lost was returning. As if his DNA was trickling back into his cells. It went beyond the kick of danger. He fell asleep remembering Natalie had always said he hated backing down.

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Opening his eyes, Nash blinked when he realised he was in his old cabin. He became aware of the low vibration of the engines, then the anchor chain clattered in the hawse pipe. Checking his dive watch, he frowned. Why were they getting underway this early?

Mia was still asleep with one hand tucked under her dimpled chin when he dropped to the deck. Nash pulled on his shirt and tried not to stare.

Outside, the dense white mist was cool and damp, redolent of vegetation and the acrid tang of a nearby fruit bat colony. Although visibility was terrible, the Albany was nosing upriver. Even as he stood there, she put on more power, and birdsong erupted on the invisible banks. Nash spotted the morning watch by the stern, obviously confused, too.

When he reached the bridge, Nash was shocked to see the squat form of Goki at the helm. Jaap Boerman was sitting beside him, one huge bare foot resting on the control panel as he drank from a mug of coffee. Behind them, Ricki Hartono was relaxing with his feet up in the navigator’s chair. They looked like a bunch of amateur fishermen on a weekend charter.

‘Where’s Kaboro?’ demanded Nash.

‘He’s been relieved.’ Boerman did not turn around.

‘What? By whom?’