Page 8 of Midnight
This wasn’t fear, or even caution.
Anticipation. That was it.
It had to be.
4
The table was strewn with half-drunk glasses of red wine, the prickly shells of snow crabs and platters of barbecued meats; the VIP dinner at Ushuaia’s most upscale Argentinianparrillahad been a huge success. Although she was sure most of the guests gathered would be more used to Michelin-starred dinners and fancy silverware, they were embracing the frontier spirit of the town. The mood was light-hearted and jovial. Aaron was at the far end of the table, sitting with Cutler Hughes – the CEO of Pioneer Adventures and owner of the MSVigil.
Cutler was a larger-than-life presence. She’d never met him before, but she’d recognized him as soon as they’d arrived at the restaurant. More celebrity than CEO, he was a regular on reality TV, known for his fearsome temper and straight-talking management style (a bit of an aberration for a Canadian, though most people pointed to his Scottish roots), even fronting his own reality show – one ofThe Apprenticeknock-offs.
His company – Pioneer Adventures – was known for off-the-beaten-track destinations and rugged expeditions. It seemed like an odd match for a high-end art showcase, but then Aaron had confided in her that Cutler wasn’t going to be CEO of Pioneer for much longer. He was selling to a mystery buyer who wanted a more luxury operation, and adding the showcase to the list of his ship’s amenities helped to attract a different kind ofclientele. It was all part of the package – and if the showcase was profitable, the deal would go ahead.
Without it, the company might fold completely, with hundreds of employees out of a job.
Olivia would never have guessed Cutler was under so much stress from watching him this evening, as he held court with wild stories of his daredevil antics. He oozed charisma and a kind of brutish charm. She wished she could have appeared so at ease while her own life had been falling apart.
And judging from the buzzy, excitable mood of the evening, Cutler had nothing to worry about. Apart from Cutler and his wife, Ingrid, and Olivia and Aaron, the exclusive guestlist for the dinner had consisted of Robert and Aida Freedman, the founders of the online co-working company DoubleNet that had boomed during the pandemic; Tariq and Greg Akbas, a wealthy curator and art critic power couple; Delilah Constance, a young Australian fashion designer with an absent tech-industry husband who bankrolled her taste in art and her collection of high-end wigs (tonight, she had waist-length black hair); and Stefan Grenville, the auctioneer from Art Aboard Aaron had been complaining about earlier.
They were Cutler’s inner circle, all eagerly awaiting their trip to the bottom of the world – and seduced by the exclusive opportunity to buy a Yennin painting. They weren’t the only possible buyers on board, but they were the ones Aaron had identified as the most likely candidates, and he was working hard to woo them accordingly.
Though maybe not everyone was so eager. Beside her, Ingrid drained the remnants of her glass and shuddered.‘Can you take seasickness pills with alcohol?’ she asked Olivia, her German accent thickening with every glass of red wine. They’d exchanged small talk throughout dinner, but this was the first moment Ingrid had let her glamorous, poised front slip and allowed a little vulnerability to seep through.
Olivia bit her lip in sympathy. ‘Do you suffer badly?’
‘Always. Can’t say I’m really looking forward to this cruise. Especially the Drake Shake.’
‘What’s that?’ Olivia asked, wide-eyed.
‘It’s what they call the Drake Passage when the conditions are bad. That stretch of water between here and Antarctica can be either the most dangerous ocean crossing in the world or it can be as smooth as glass. Hence it’s either the Drake Shake or the Drake Lake. Ever fancied a spin inside a washing machine?’
Olivia cringed. ‘Not particularly. They might have to sedate me for that.’ She tried to pass it off as a joke.
But Ingrid didn’t laugh. Instead, her pale complexion seemed to get a little greyer. She fiddled with the expensive diamond pendant at the end of her necklace. ‘You get seasick too?’
Olivia shook her head. ‘I had a bad experience on a boat once.’
‘And you’re going on a cruise? Is that wise?’
‘Probably not.’
Ingrid raised a neatly pruned eyebrow. ‘Well, if you ever need a drinking companion, you come find me.’
‘I might just take you up on that.’
She glanced around the table. Most of the guests had left already, taking advantage of their last night of sleep on solid ground. She frowned, as she noticed Aaronhad disappeared from the table too. She muttered an excuse to Ingrid, picking up her coat from the back of her chair.
They had been sectioned off in a private dining room, all leather-backed chairs and wood panelling. But even in the main restaurant, Aaron was nowhere to be seen.
She stepped outside, quickly pulling her coat on – surprised at how cold it was. She could see her breath steaming out in front of her. The street was practically deserted, only one man lurking in the awning of a restaurant across the street. She only noticed him thanks to the orange glow of his cigarette tip, the hood of his jacket covering the rest of his face in shadow. She squinted, trying to get a better look at him.
Was it the same man from the harbour front?
It was hard to be sure. But it was the same feeling.
She edged back into the restaurant, shaking off her paranoia. That’s when she saw Aaron standing in a hallway leading down towards the men’s room. His back was to her, talking with Stefan.
‘And does Olivia know anything?’
