Don’t worry, son, I answered. I’m always careful. I stay away from the edges.
That’s what I hope, Dad, he replied. I love you very much and want you to come back safe and sound.
The hypocrisy in his words almost made me laugh—I want you to come back safe and sound, from the man who’d bought me a one-way ticket and hired someone to finish the job.
The rest of the day, Carl and I refined our plan. We needed more evidence, more recorded conversations, more pieces of the puzzle fitting together. We also had to figure out if there really was someone on board working with Michael—and if so, who.
That afternoon, we went to the pool deck. The place was buzzing with life—American families in swim trunks, kids splashing, music playing from overhead speakers, the smell of sunscreen and grilled burgers drifting through the air.
As we sat on lounge chairs, talking quietly, I noticed him.
A man in his forties stood at the pool bar, wearing a long-sleeve green shirt and pants instead of swimwear, which already looked out of place under the tropical sun. Every time I looked in his direction, he turned his face away, pretending to watch something else. But his eyes always drifted back. To me.
“Carl,” I whispered. “The man at the bar in the green shirt. Do you see him watching us?”
Carl turned his head casually, his movements natural.
“Yes,” he murmured. “You’re not imagining it. He’s watching you, not me.”
“What do we do?” I asked.
“Let’s test something,” he answered. “Get up and walk toward the elevator. I’ll stay here and watch. If he follows you, we have our answer.”
I did exactly that. I stood, gathered my things, and walked toward the elevator as if I were just tired and heading for a nap. When the doors opened and I stepped inside, I glanced back.
The man in the green shirt had left the bar and was walking in my direction.
My heart raced as the elevator doors closed. I pressed the button for Deck 12, where Carl’s cabin was. For a moment, I felt safe, surrounded by steel and machinery instead of open water.
Fifteen minutes later, Carl came into the cabin, his expression tense.
“You were right,” he said. “He followed you to the elevator. When he saw you went up, he took the next one. No doubt about it now, Robert. Someone here is watching you for Michael.”
“What do we do?” I asked. “If he already knows who I am, I’m a target.”
“We’re going to be smarter,” Carl said. “We won’t hide from him. We’ll make him show his hand. Tomorrow we’ll set up a little performance in a public place—with cameras and people all around. We’ll make him feel safe enough to approach you, and then we’ll let him talk.”
That night, to reduce risk, we had dinner in Carl’s cabin instead of the restaurants. We ordered room service and ate with the sound of the ocean outside the balcony door.
My phone rang again. Clare.
“Hi, Robert,” she said, her voice bright and sugary. “How are you? It’s Clare. How’s the cruise?”
It was the first time in months she’d called me directly.
“What a surprise, Clare,” I said calmly. “The cruise is beautiful. Thank you again for the gift.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said. “Michael told me you two talked yesterday and that you’re very happy. That gives us a lot of peace.”
Carl turned on his recorder again.
“Yes, I’m having a good time,” I said. “Although I do have a question, Clare. Yesterday, I went to the cruise office and they told me I don’t have a return ticket. Do you know anything about that?”
There was a long silence.
“Oh… Robert, how strange,” she said finally. “Michael handled all the details. Maybe there was an error in the system. But don’t worry, we’ll take care of it.”
“I already did,” I answered. “I bought my own return ticket to be safe.”
Another pause.
“You… already bought your ticket home?” she repeated. “You didn’t need to do that, Robert. We were going to take care of everything.”
