Read Online Contract With God by Juan Gómez-Jurado - Free Book Online

a sudden stop. When Andrea regained her balance, what she saw made her jaw drop. The Behemoth was nothing like the ugly freighter she had expected. It was a sleek modern vessel whose enormous hull was painted red and its superstructure a blinding white, the colours of Kayn Industries. Without waiting for the driver to help her, she grabbed her things and ran up the gangplank, wanting to start her adventure as soon as possible.
    Half an hour later the ship had raised anchor and was underway. One hour later Andrea confined herself to her cabin, intent on vomiting in private.
     
    After two days, during which the only thing that she could handle was liquids, her inner ear called a truce and she finally felt brave enough to step outside for a little fresh air and to get to know the ship. But first, she decided to toss Raymond Kayn: The Unauthorised Biography overboard with all her might.
    ‘You shouldn’t have done that.’
    Andrea turned from the railing. Walking towards her on the main deck was an attractive, dark-haired woman of about forty. She was dressed like Andrea, in jeans and a T-shirt, but over them she wore a white jacket.
    ‘I know. Pollution is a bad thing. But try being locked up for three days with that crappy book and you’ll understand.’
    ‘It would have been less traumatic if you had opened the door for something other than getting water from the crew. I understand that you were offered my services . . .’
    Andrea fixed her eyes on the book that was already floating far behind the moving ship. She felt ashamed. She didn’t like people seeing her when she was sick, and hated feeling vulnerable.
    ‘I was fine,’ Andrea said.
    ‘I understand, but I’m sure you would have felt better if you’d taken some Dramamine.’
    ‘Only if you wanted me dead, Dr . . .’
    ‘Harel. You’re allergic to dimenhydrinates, Ms Otero?’
    ‘Among other things. Please call me Andrea.’
    Dr Harel smiled and a series of wrinkles softened her features. She had beautiful eyes, the shape and colour of almonds, and her hair was dark and curly. She was two inches taller than Andrea.
    ‘And you can call me Dr Harel,’ she said, offering her hand.
    Andrea looked at the hand without extending hers.
    ‘I don’t like snobs.’
    ‘Me neither. I’m not telling you my name because I don’t have one. My friends usually call me Doc.’
    The reporter finally reached out her hand. The doctor’s handshake was warm and pleasant.
    ‘That must break the ice at parties, Doc.’
    ‘You can’t imagine. It tends to be the first thing people remark on when I meet them. Let’s walk around for a bit and I’ll tell you more.’
    They headed towards the bow of the ship. A hot wind was blowing towards them, causing the ship’s American flag to flutter.
    ‘I was born in Tel Aviv shortly after the end of the Six-Day War,’ Harel went on. ‘Four members of my family died during the conflict. The rabbi interpreted this as a bad omen, so my parents didn’t give me a name, in order to deceive the Angel of Death. They alone knew my name.’
    ‘And did it work?’
    ‘For Jews a name is very important. It defines a person and it has power over that person. My father whispered my name in my ear during my bat mitzvah while the congregation was singing. I can never tell anyone else.’
    ‘Or the Angel of Death will find you? No offence, Doc, but that doesn’t make much sense. The Grim Reaper doesn’t look you up in the phone book.’
    Harel let out a hearty laugh.
    ‘I often come across that kind of attitude. I have to tell you I find it refreshing. But my name will remain a secret.’
    Andrea smiled. She liked the woman’s easygoing style, and stared at her eyes perhaps a little longer than was necessary or appropriate. Harel looked away, slightly startled by her directness.
    ‘What’s a doctor without a name doing on board the Behemoth ?’
    ‘I’m a substitute, last-minute. They needed a doctor for the expedition. So you’re all