he was working on irrigation projects.’
‘Yes. That’s how I found him. I’d learned that his charity was doing pioneering work.’
‘You approached him?’
‘I did. But I really don’t know anything about his personal life. He seemed perfectly happy last weekend.’
‘He didn’t tell his wife he was here,’ Jenny answered. ‘In fact, he told her he was going to London last Saturday. She had no idea he had been to Oxford.’
‘Perhaps he was going on to London? We only talked for half an hour or so.’
‘He telephoned her at one o’clock and told her he was around the corner from his charity’s London offices. I presume that can’t be right.’
‘I really have no idea why he would do that. You must understand – it wasn’t a personal relationship. It wasn’t really a
relationship
at all.’
Sonia’s attempt to distance herself seemed to Jenny at odds with the reaction she had witnessed outside the porter’s lodge.
‘How long had you known one another?’ Jenny ventured.
‘We started corresponding several months ago, while he was still in South Sudan. We met twice in person, both times here in Oxford.’
‘Do you mind if I ask what you discussed?’
‘We mostly talked politics. I’m researching the impact of post-partition democracy on traditional tribal loyalties. Adam had been living amongst the people I was interested in – close to the border with the north, right in the middle of what for years has been disputed territory.’
‘The Dinka people?’
‘That’s right.’ Sonia seemed surprised by Jenny’s knowledge.
‘And he was in good spirits?’
‘Very. Enthusiastic about his work, though a bit frustrated he had to leave his last project before it was fully completed.’
‘Did he say why he had to leave?’
‘The area became unsafe – tribal hostilities. Foreigners are always the first target.’
Jenny cast her mind back to her conversation with Harry Thorn, picturing him smoking his joint and talking like a weary old soldier: ‘
That’s Africa. Tribal factions slitting each other’s throats since the dawn of time. It’s like a bad habit
.’
‘You say Mr Jordan remained enthusiastic about his work?’ Jenny said. ‘I got the impression from a colleague of his that it could be pretty thankless at times.’
Sonia answered with a directness that took Jenny by surprise. ‘Adam had every faith in the ordinary people. He was entirely confident he could make a real difference.’
‘What about the politics of the aid business? Did he talk about that?’
The question gave Sonia pause. ‘That wasn’t the nature of our conversation.’
Jenny sensed she was obfuscating, but rather than press her, flashed a disarming smile.
It worked. Whether prompted by guilt or an instinct for self-preservation, Sonia said, ‘Look, I’m a rational person, not a psychoanalyst, and I’m still rather shocked by the news, but if you were twisting my arm for an opinion I’d say that most people in his line of work run deep. He struck me as an idealist, but maybe a little haunted. I don’t know . . .’ She drew her clenched fists into her lap, as if grasping words from the air around her. ‘There was probably some guilt there. A lot of us have it – some strange sense that we don’t deserve what we’ve got and should be devoting ourselves to those without.’
‘You make it sound like an affliction.’
‘Perhaps it is,’ Sonia said. ‘Would any wholly sane person give up their home for a tent in South Sudan?’
‘You don’t think he was altogether sane?’
‘I didn’t say that. He was just . . . exceptionally driven.’
She was a difficult woman to read. One moment she was claiming to know Jordan hardly at all, the next she was analysing his every motive.
‘I am curious to know why Mr Jordan travelled here to talk to you when it’s so easy to communicate by other means. If it was just research . . .’ She left the question half-formed, as interested in what
‘Yes. That’s how I found him. I’d learned that his charity was doing pioneering work.’
‘You approached him?’
‘I did. But I really don’t know anything about his personal life. He seemed perfectly happy last weekend.’
‘He didn’t tell his wife he was here,’ Jenny answered. ‘In fact, he told her he was going to London last Saturday. She had no idea he had been to Oxford.’
‘Perhaps he was going on to London? We only talked for half an hour or so.’
‘He telephoned her at one o’clock and told her he was around the corner from his charity’s London offices. I presume that can’t be right.’
‘I really have no idea why he would do that. You must understand – it wasn’t a personal relationship. It wasn’t really a
relationship
at all.’
Sonia’s attempt to distance herself seemed to Jenny at odds with the reaction she had witnessed outside the porter’s lodge.
‘How long had you known one another?’ Jenny ventured.
‘We started corresponding several months ago, while he was still in South Sudan. We met twice in person, both times here in Oxford.’
‘Do you mind if I ask what you discussed?’
‘We mostly talked politics. I’m researching the impact of post-partition democracy on traditional tribal loyalties. Adam had been living amongst the people I was interested in – close to the border with the north, right in the middle of what for years has been disputed territory.’
‘The Dinka people?’
‘That’s right.’ Sonia seemed surprised by Jenny’s knowledge.
‘And he was in good spirits?’
‘Very. Enthusiastic about his work, though a bit frustrated he had to leave his last project before it was fully completed.’
‘Did he say why he had to leave?’
‘The area became unsafe – tribal hostilities. Foreigners are always the first target.’
Jenny cast her mind back to her conversation with Harry Thorn, picturing him smoking his joint and talking like a weary old soldier: ‘
That’s Africa. Tribal factions slitting each other’s throats since the dawn of time. It’s like a bad habit
.’
‘You say Mr Jordan remained enthusiastic about his work?’ Jenny said. ‘I got the impression from a colleague of his that it could be pretty thankless at times.’
Sonia answered with a directness that took Jenny by surprise. ‘Adam had every faith in the ordinary people. He was entirely confident he could make a real difference.’
‘What about the politics of the aid business? Did he talk about that?’
The question gave Sonia pause. ‘That wasn’t the nature of our conversation.’
Jenny sensed she was obfuscating, but rather than press her, flashed a disarming smile.
It worked. Whether prompted by guilt or an instinct for self-preservation, Sonia said, ‘Look, I’m a rational person, not a psychoanalyst, and I’m still rather shocked by the news, but if you were twisting my arm for an opinion I’d say that most people in his line of work run deep. He struck me as an idealist, but maybe a little haunted. I don’t know . . .’ She drew her clenched fists into her lap, as if grasping words from the air around her. ‘There was probably some guilt there. A lot of us have it – some strange sense that we don’t deserve what we’ve got and should be devoting ourselves to those without.’
‘You make it sound like an affliction.’
‘Perhaps it is,’ Sonia said. ‘Would any wholly sane person give up their home for a tent in South Sudan?’
‘You don’t think he was altogether sane?’
‘I didn’t say that. He was just . . . exceptionally driven.’
She was a difficult woman to read. One moment she was claiming to know Jordan hardly at all, the next she was analysing his every motive.
‘I am curious to know why Mr Jordan travelled here to talk to you when it’s so easy to communicate by other means. If it was just research . . .’ She left the question half-formed, as interested in what
Similar Books
