Midnight

Prologue


I watch as he scampers down the gangway, his fists clenched by his side. He avoids catching the eye of the distracted officer at the door to the ship, racing past the long line of passengers waiting to check in for their voyage of a lifetime.

He looks so small through my binoculars. A tiny slip of a man. I wait, but the woman doesn’t come after him. No matter. I had planned for that. Besides, this way is easier.

I’ve been watching them, waiting, biding my time. Every moment con­firms what I already knew: these two deserve everything that’s coming at them.

I look down at my phone, opening the message thread from a few min­utes ago.

WE NEED TO TALK.

Not possible, he’d replied.

BE AT THE HOTEL IN FIFTEEN MINUTES OR ELSE THE VIDEO GOES LIVE.

He was too smart to ignore me. Especially with the screenshot I’d attached to the message. That would have made his blood run cold.

I set down the binoculars. Now I’m certain he’s on his way, I have a few minutes to prepare the next stage of the plan. I take out the box with the syringe, making certain it’s primed and ready. My bags are packed, waiting by the door for my getaway.

The hotel staff will give him a message, sending him to the room next to mine, so I double- check the adjoining door is unlocked and slightly ajar.

I’ve already set up a laptop on the table in that room, facing away from the entrance.

I wait until I hear him enter. Then I call.

He answers on the first ring, so angry he’s practically spitting. “I gave you what you wanted. You said you would stop this.”

“It’s not enough. Meet my demand, or else what’s on that laptop goes live.”

“I told you. It’s not going to happen. The ship sets sail in an hour. You’ve got your money. You can’t just keep asking for more. Now it’s time to leave us alone.”

“I don’t think so. Why don’t you turn it on and see for yourself the damage I can do?”

I wait for him to sit down at the desk. But it’s a ploy. If there was proof, I wouldn’t have to do this. Instead, while he’s distracted, I step through into the room.

“What the fuck?” I hear him mutter as he double- clicks on the video file and nothing plays.

My footstep lands heavy on the hotel carpet, and the creak is enough to reveal me. He leaps to standing.

But it’s too late. In the next second, I’m on him, plunging the needle into his neck. He barely has the opportunity to struggle. I’m too fast; it’s too unexpected. And the drugs I’ve chosen work quickly.

As he sags to the floor, I search his pockets for anything I might need. I drag his body into the second room, the one I’ve booked for the next week. Then, I make sure the “Do Not Disturb” sign is still on the outer knob, shut the door and start walking. I expect he won’t be found for some time.

I’ll be long gone by then.

After all, I have a boat to catch.


Chapter One

TWENTY- FOUR HOURS EARLIER


Huge, snowcapped mountains rise up behind the town, their jag­ged peaks piercing the bright blue sky. The Martial range cradled the southernmost town in the world— Ushuaia— and, with it, the gateway to Antarctica.

An icy breeze swirled around her body as Olivia stared out at the slate- gray sea. Half a dozen yachts were moored in the harbor and birds splashed in the surf, fighting over a silvery fish nabbed from beneath the surface. The waves were calm, lapping gently against the stone walls of the dock. For the moment there was no sign of the ferocious, stormy weather that this part of the world was notorious for.

She knew some people found comfort by being near water. Not her. For her, the sight of the water brought up a fear that caught in her throat, threatening to choke her.

She gripped the metal railing, took a breath and focused on the large ship docked in the port. The MS Vigil. Tomorrow, it would take her across one of the world’s most perilous bodies of water— the Drake Passage— to the final continent. The ship was a converted icebreaker from Norway, designed to chop through icy waters and sail through polar storms with ease. She’d read up on the specifications for the ship and its captain’s impeccable safety record. She knew she had nothing to worry about.

But the fear remained.

Movement on the dock caught her eye. Two men strolled down the gangplank from the Vigil. When she was sure one of them was her boyfriend, Aaron, she waved, glad of the distraction. Her palms stung as she let go of the cold iron.

She wasn’t sure if he’d seen. If he had, he didn’t acknowledge her. About halfway toward her, they stopped, speaking with their heads close. They shook hands before they parted, and Olivia watched as the second man stalked off in the opposite direction. She didn’t recognize him from the meeting that morning, but that wasn’t a surprise— she’d been introduced to so many people, and his face was covered by the fur- trimmed hood of his parka. He could have been anyone.

Olivia frowned, but then Aaron turned to her. His cheeks were flushed from being blasted by the freezing air, his normally per­fectly set curly brown hair disheveled in the wind. He gave her a wide smile.

“Feeling better, Livi?” he asked once he’d made it through the security gates separating the dock from the park. He kissed her firmly before she could answer.

No, she wanted to say. I’m not ready. I’ll wait for you here, safe, on land. But she swallowed down her anxiety. She knew this was a make- or- break moment for them— in their relationship and their business. He’d put his trust in her again, even after how badly she’d messed up on the night of his big auction.

Still, he wasn’t fooled. “Once we’re underway, I know you’ll love it. The ship is incredible— it feels like a floating boutique hotel. You won’t even know you’re on the water.”

“Is everything ready?” she asked, looping her arm through his as they meandered back toward their hotel.

“Still a few last- minute details.”

Aaron had been on board overseeing the installation of a special showcase of work by his star artist— Kostas Yennin. Aaron had represented Yennin’s work for years, steadily building his profile but never truly breaking him out in a big way on the art circuit. It was only after tragedy struck, resulting in Yennin’s untimely death, that his star had had a meteoric rise— his pieces selling at auction for millions of pounds, demand from galleries and museums skyrocketing, even his social media following grow­ing exponentially. But Aaron wanted to be careful. He’d seen so many gifted artists make a big splash but then fail to transition to blue- chip status— that top echelon of artists whose paintings consistently increased in value.

He wanted to create a lasting legacy for Yennin’s art, and that required finding a way to make him stand out from the pack. Since Yennin’s paintings had all been inspired by the beauty of the polar regions, Aaron had negotiated a deal to match artist with adventure. His work would be displayed exclusively aboard the MS Vigil and the passengers would have the unique opportu­nity to attend a high- end art auction at sea.

And if it was a success, the showcase format was going to be rolled out to the entire fleet of Pioneer cruise ships, turning Yen­nin into a worldwide household name and boosting the price of his artwork immeasurably— not to mention establishing Aaron as one of the premier art dealers in the world.

He’d start the Hunt Advisory off the back of it, to search for the next Kostas Yennin. And, to her surprise, he wanted her to join him. “With your brilliant financial mind to balance my crea­tive vision, we could be unstoppable,” he’d said.

She hadn’t known what to say. She thought she’d screwed up everything that night. Her career. Her relationship. Her mental health. But he’d offered her this lifeline and she’d grabbed it with both hands. This was her chance to rebuild.

“What’s the issue?” she asked.

“The auctioneer from Art Aboard is going to be the death of me. Stefan Grenville. I wish we could have chosen our own person.”

It had been a frustrating but necessary compromise: Art Aboard had the experience of running auctions on cruise ships, so Aaron had agreed to partner with them. “Next time, you will be able to. I really should have been there to help.”

Aaron squeezed her arm. “You needed to rest. Besides, if all goes to plan, you’ll be plenty busy on board— and when we get back. I need you in top form by then.”

She nodded, leaning against his arm so he couldn’t read the expression of doubt on her face. Top form. When had she last felt like she’d been on her game? That version of herself was a distant memory, one she wasn’t sure even existed anymore. Did she even want to be that person again? Before she’d met Aaron, she’d had one goal: to qualify as an actuary as fast as humanly possible, make partner at her firm, and finally get the pay bump she needed to support her mother— who needed round- the- clock care. Every month, between her own rent and her mother’s nursing home fees, she was barely scraping by. With every passed exam, she got a small pay raise, but it never seemed to be enough.

And so five a.m. wake- up calls, sixty- hour workweeks, late- night study sessions . . . that had become her norm. The thought of slowing down— of letting go of her viselike grip on her career ladder— had seemed unthinkable. Even when she’d met Aaron, the thought of easing off on her laser- like focus on her goal had never entered her mind. In fact, she’d wanted it more than ever. He lived in a world so full of glamor and sophistication. She’d loved being part of it, but she wanted to match him— not rely on him.

On the surface, they’d been living a dream life.

The reality was: it was impossible to sustain.

That night, it all got too much. She’d broken down completely, with disastrous consequences.

She thought Aaron would never trust her again.

This was her rock bottom. She’d called her doctor: anxiety and burnout, he said. On one hand it had been a relief to have it con­firmed. On the other— she felt helpless. She knew she couldn’t go back to the way she lived and worked before, but it was the only way she knew. Even taking a leave of absence from her job, going to therapy, trying to slow down and recharge, hadn’t felt like enough.

All the while, things for Aaron had been skyrocketing. When he came to her with his plan for the Hunt Advisory, he’d thrown her a true lifeline. An opportunity to use her skill set, earn a good living and maybe even take some time to enjoy life too.

But it all would depend on the launch of the showcase in Ant­arctica. And that meant facing another fear of hers.

One she thought she could keep buried forever.

Why? Why did it have to be on a boat?

Her therapist had helped her to reframe it.

You won’t be responsible, he’d told her, after she’d explained why she was so anxious about the trip.

And he was right. There was an entire crew manning the ship. An experienced captain. Top- of- the- line navigation equipment.

You won’t have to keep watch.

She would just be a passenger, able to relax and enjoy the jour­ney. It wouldn’t be like last time.

You won’t be responsible.

And then there was the destination: Antarctica. When she said the word out loud she expected to fall into a deep pit of grief. It had been a place that had achieved almost mythic status in her family growing up: the only continent her dad had left to visit before he died. But instead, she found herself smiling. Long- forgotten memories surfaced: how he’d spread maps out on their kitchen table showing her the various routes to the South Pole, how he’d sit on the end of her bed in the darkness and tell her about his desire to sail through the last truly untouched wil­derness, past towering icebergs, spotting humpback whales and leopard seals, meeting penguins, and crossing over the Antarctic Circle to witness the midnight sun. His bookshelves had teetered under the weight of thick Shackleton and Scott biographies— had he been born in that era, she was sure he would have been one of the intrepid explorers himself. As a girl, she had absorbed his excitement, snuggling up to a cuddly penguin toy at night and dreaming of one day visiting “the Ice.”

She’d been sixteen when he died. After that, her mother had banished his vast library to the rubbish dump, and scrubbed all mention of sailing, boats or exploration from their home.

Olivia had never questioned it. Why should she? After all, his death had been Olivia’s fault.

She shook her head violently.

This time, you’re not responsible. She took a deep breath. It was time for her to move on.

Besides, they’d come to the perfect place to start anew. Every­thing about the small town of Ushuaia felt fresh and crisp. It sat perched at the end of a rugged, windswept archipelago made up of thousands of sparsely populated islands called Tierra del Fuego. The name translated to “Land of Fire”— ironic consid­ering it was so cold. The town itself was a quaint fishing port with a mishmash of houses with brightly colored roofs and steep streets leading down to the water. A watercolor stroke of dark green forest led to snow- covered mountains rising up behind and circling the town, giving it an intimate feel, despite its frontier atmosphere.

“We have a couple of hours before dinner,” Aaron said. He grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly. “Shall we head back to the hotel?”

“Hang on— I want to get a picture.” Olivia stopped by a wooden sign, a few steps away from the water.

She looked around for someone she could rope in to take the photo for them. But the square was empty. Strange. When she’d walked past before, it had been buzzing with tourists, all clamor­ing to get a shot.

There was only one man in the park, leaning against one of the spindly, windswept trees. His black jacket was buttoned all the way to his chin, a hat pulled down low over his brow. But his gaze caught Olivia’s, and she felt her heart leap into her throat. It was the way he was staring at her, at them.

She grabbed Aaron’s arm, but at the same time he took the phone from her and held it up, his arm outstretched. “Let’s get a selfie, shall we?” He angled her phone so they could get both their faces in.

Olivia leaned in and smiled, putting the strange man to the back of her mind.

“Ushuaia: el fin del mundo.” Aaron read the sign aloud.

Olivia gave herself a shake. The end of the world.

And, hopefully, the start of a new chapter.