I

The charm of his moonlit walk had long since worn off for Knox. His feet were either plugging in the soft sand or stumbling as he negotiated rocky hummocks and tangles of mangrove. When he took off his shoes to wade across an inlet, something snakelike slithered from beneath his sole. He lifted his foot so abruptly that his dive-bag swung on his shoulders and he fell sideways into the water, yelling out a heartfelt curse.

The night grew cloudy, cold and dark. He took off his pack, pulled out his diving lamp. He reached another rocky outcrop, treacherous with spume. Lightning flickered ahead. A miniature whirlwind brought a hoop of dust and dead leaves towards him, whipping and twisting and bowing. It began to rain, light patters at first, but quickly growing strong. He looked for shelter, but there wasn’t any. He fought his way past more mangroves and then kept going, a hundred paces at a time, the rain growing heavier around him, the lightning drawing closer. He was on the verge of giving up when he finally saw a small white building ahead. Its door was locked and its awning offered precious little protection. He shone his lamp through the small window, revealing diving gear hanging up on the far wall and a compressor for filling scuba tanks. He surely had to be close to Eden now.

Hurrying on with renewed energy, he soon reached a sign directing him up a track to a clearing of wooden cabins and a large, low building. He hurried between parked vehicles to the shelter of the veranda, was surprised to see that the front door was ajar and that torchlight was flickering inside, as though there’d been a power-cut. He shouted out as he put down his bags, and two men appeared a moment later, wearing baseball caps and scarves around their mouths, obviously up to no good. They yelled out and charged at him, knocked him backwards off the veranda. Knox slapped instinctively at an ankle as it passed, and one of the men went sprawling. He leapt upon him but the second man came back and aimed a kick at Knox’s face, forcing him to defend himself, allowing his companion to squirm free. They ran for the pickup, locked themselves inside, started it up and sped away, spraying watery mud all over Knox as he gave chase. Then they turned south along the track and vanished.

He tramped back to the veranda. A woman in dark clothes came out of one of the cabins, plastic sheeting over her head. For a glad moment he thought it was Emilia, that she was safe after all; but then he realised it was her sister Rebecca instead, the one person Emilia had made him promise never to breathe a word of the Winterton project to. She came over to him, looking concerned. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

‘I’m fine,’ he assured her. ‘Who were those guys? What the hell’s going on?’

‘I don’t know. I was in one of the cabins. They just showed up.’ She looked at the open door. ‘They had a key.’

‘Just as well,’ said Knox. ‘I’m drenched.’ He squelched his way inside, kicked off his shoes.

‘Matthew Richardson,’ she said from behind him.

He looked around, startled that she should know his name, only to see her crouched down by his bags, reading his tags. ‘Everyone calls me Daniel,’ he told her.

‘The Maritsa?’ she frowned, still reading. ‘Is that a ship or something?’

‘Yes.’

‘I know the name,’ she said. ‘Why would I know the name?’

Knox hesitated; but if she’d heard of it, a lie was almost certain to rebound. ‘It’s a salvage ship,’ he told her. ‘They’re doing a project up near Morombe.’

‘That’s right,’ said Rebecca ‘I read an article on it. Looking for some Chinese shipwreck, right?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘What were you doing up there?’

He hesitated again, reluctant to be drawn into all these lies. But he didn’t see what choice he had, other than to betray his vow to Emilia. ‘I’m a freelance journalist,’ he told her, borrowing a trick from Lucia. ‘I was up there to write an article on the salvage.’

‘And is that why you’re here too? To do an article on Eden?’

‘I’m always looking for strong stories,’ said Knox. ‘But mostly I’m here because I’ve got a few days off, and I’d heard great things about this place.’

She pulled a face. ‘I’m afraid we’re really not set up for visitors at the moment.’ Then she looked out at the continuing downpour, and relented. ‘But you can stay tonight, of course; and there are some nice guest cabins just along the beach from here.’

‘Thanks. That’s really kind.’ A pool of water was gathering around his feet, making him realise just how filthy and wet he was. ‘I don’t suppose there’s a shower I can use, is there?’ he asked.

She looked bleakly outside. ‘I think I’d need to turn on the generator.’

‘Then don’t worry about it,’ he told her. ‘The Good Lord provides.’ He took his wash-bag and towel from his bag, went out on to the veranda, closed the door behind him, then stripped naked and strode out into the deluge to wash.