“Is that a town?”
Spenser laughed heartily.
“Not quite,” he said.
“It’s an Aussie expression, like the Back of Bourke or the Back of Beyond. It refers to the outback, the Australian bush. Tris is working as a general practitioner with the Royal Flying Doctor Service out of Charleville.”
“Is that far from here?” Marissa asked.
“Everything is far in Australia,” Spenser said.
“It’s a big country and most of it is like a desert. Charleville is about four hundred miles from Brisbane, out at the edge of the channel country. From there Tris flies out to Betoota Hotel, Windorah, Cunnamulla, godforsaken places like that, to visit isolated cattle stations. As I understand it, he stays out for weeks at a time. It takes a special man for that kind of work. I admire him. I couldn’t do it, not after living around here.”
“is it difficult to get out there?” Marissa. asked.
“It’s not hard to get to Charleville,” Spenser said.
“There’s a bitumen road all the way. You can even fly there. But beyond Charleville, I think the road deteriorates to dirt and bull dust I don’t recommend it for a holiday,” “Thanks for taking the time to talk to me,” Marissa said.
“I appreciate your help.” In truth, she was depressed by his information.
It seemed as if the closer she got to finding out about Tristan Williams, the further he slipped away.
“Happy to be of service,” Spenser said.
“If I were you, I’d forget about the outback and Tris. I’d head down to the Gold Coast and beach it, Aussie-style. You don’t know what desolate means until you’ve seen some areas of the Australian outback.”
After exchanging goodbyes, Marissa left and went back out side. She found Wendy sitting on the front steps of the building.
“You okay?” Marissa asked, sitting down beside her friend.
“Oh, I’m fine now,” Wendy said.
“Sorry to abandon you in there. You’d think I could stomach that stuff by now.”
“I’m glad you had sense enough to walk out,” Marissa said.
“I’m sorry to have put you through it. But we found Tristan Williams.”
“Eureka!” Wendy said.
“Is he close?”
“Everything is relative,” Marissa said.
“He’s not in Perth, but he’s someplace out in the Australian outback. Apparently he’s abandoned pathology, or pathology has abandoned him. He’s working as a GP flying around to isolated locations like cattle ranches.”
“Sounds like a romantic do-gooder job for someone who falsified data for a journal article.”
Marissa nodded.
“His home base is a town called Charleville, which is about four hundred miles from here. But he’s away for weeks at a time. I think it would be pretty tough to track him down. What do you think?”
“Sounds like a lot of effort for a questionable payoff. But let’s think about it. Meanwhile, we deserve a break from all this effort.
Let’s go diving. After that maybe we’ll have more enthusiasm.”
“Okay,” Marissa said, getting to her feet.
“You’ve been patient.
Let’s go see how great this Barrier Reef really is!”
They caught a cab at the administration building and returned to their hotel. There they picked up their traveler’s checks and walked over to the travel agent Wendy had visited the day before.
There was no problem arranging for jet transportation for the following day even though it was the weekend. They were able to reserve a room at the Hamilton Island Resort. The agent even called to be sure to get them a seaside room.
“What’s the best way to arrange for a day’s diving?” Wendy asked when the agent had finished the call.
“You can allow the hotel to make the arrangements,” the agent said.
“That certainly is the easiest. But to tell you the truth, if I were you I’d wait until I got there and find your own charter.
It’s a good-sized marina, there are a lot of dive and fishing boats.
It’s their slow time and you’ll be able to bargain. You’d find a much better deal.”
Wendy picked up the tickets and brochures.
“That sounds terrific. We’ll follow your suggestion,” she said.
“Thanks for your help.”
“Glad to be of service,” the agent said.
“But there is something I should warn you about.”
Marissa felt her heart skip a beat. She was already concerned about diving in exotic depths.
“What?” Wendy asked.
“The sun,” the agent said.
“Make sure you use a lot of block.”
Marissa laughed.
“Thanks for the tip,” Wendy said. She grabbed Marissa’s arm and headed for the door.
“Can I help you?” the agent asked, turning to her next customer.
He was a leathery Australian man. The agent guessed he was from the outback. He’d been browsing through a rack of European tour brochures to the right of the agent’s desk while the American women made their plans. When they’d first arrived, the agent had thought all three were together.
“As a matter of fact, you can,” the man said.
“I need two return air tickets for Hamilton Island. The names are Edmund Stewart and Willy Tong.”
“Will you be needing accommodations?” the agent asked.
“No, thanks,” Ned said.
“We’ll take care of that when we get there.
April 7,1990
1:40 PM
Pressing her nose against the window of the Ansett jet, Marissa could see the broad expanse of ocean thousands of feet below. From the moment they’d taken off at 12:40 P.m.” they’d been over water. At first the ocean had been a dark, sapphire blue. But as they traveled on, the color changed. It had become a brilliant turquoise. Already they could see a patchwork of underwater coral. Their journey was taking them over a tapestry of shoals, atolls, coral cays, and true continental islands.
Wendy was beside herself with anticipation. She had bought a travel guide at the airport and was reading sections to Marissa.
Marissa didn’t have the heart to tell her that she couldn’t concentrate.
Marissa was wondering what the hell she was doing flying off the coast of Australia.
Having made no progress whatsoever in their quest for information that might help them explain the origins of their infertility,
Marissa began to seriously question the rationale for the trip.
Perhaps she should have stayed at home and tried to get her life back in order. She wondered what Robert was doing, and how her leaving affected his behavior. If he were having an affair with Donna, leaving like she did would only give him carte blanche to carry on. If she’d been wrong, she wondered if her abrupt departure would push him into Donna’s arms.
“Australia’s Great Barrier Reef has taken twenty-five million years to form,” Wendy read, “and there are at least three hundred and fifty different species of coral, as well as fifteen hundred species of tropical fish.”
“Wendy,” Marissa said at last, “maybe it would be better for you to read to yourself. Statistics like that 4on’t register in my mind unless I read them.”
“Hold on!” Wendy said, not taking the hint.
“Here’s one you can relate to. The visibility of water can be up to sixty meters.”
Wendy looked at Marissa.
“That’s unbelievable. That’s about two hundred feet. Isn’t that astounding? Can you wait?”
Marissa merely nodded.
Undaunted, Wendy read on. Marissa turned back to the window and looked out at the limitless Pacific Ocean. Again she thought of Robert, nearly half a world away.
Mercifully, Marissa’s thoughts and Wendy’s reading were interrupted by an announcement. The captain said they were nearing
Hamilton Island and would be landing momentarily. In another few minutes their plane touched down.
The island was a tropical paradise. Although Marissa and Wendy were surprised when they saw several high-rise buildings which looked starkly out of place, the rest of the island was in keeping with their expectations. The vegetation was a lush bright green, highlighted by dazzling flowers. The beaches were a sparkling white sand, the water an inviting aqua.
The checkin at the hotel went smoothly. Their seaside room was ready for them. The resort’s lagoon-shaped pool tempted Marissa, but Wendy was not to be denied. She wanted to go directly to the marina to arrange for the next day’s diving. She offered to go by herself, but Marissa felt obligated to go with her.
As the travel agent had said, the marina was large. Several hundred boats of all sizes and descriptions were docked there, with room for more. Advertisements for excursions for both fishing and diving abounded. The large bulletin board on the front wall of the ship chandler’s store was filled. But Wendy wasn’t satisfied with the information they contained. Instead she insisted they wander out on the commercial pier to examine the boats themselves.
Marissa followed along, enjoying the surroundings more than the boats. The day was glorious. A hot, tropical sun blazed in the middle of an azure sky. Large cumulus clouds dotted the horizon particularly over the peaks of the neighboring islands. To the north in the far distance a group of dark clouds clustered, suggesting a thunderstorm on the way.
“Here’s a good one,” Wendy said. She’d stopped at a boat slip where one of the larger boats was moored. The name emblazoned on the transom was “Oz.” It was a cabin cruiser, painted white, with a spacious cockpit. Several swivel deep-sea fishing chairs were mounted there. Against the forward bulkhead a long row of scuba tanks was secured.
“What makes this one better than the others?” Marissa asked.
“This one has a nice dive platform right at the water’s edge,” Wendy said, pointing to a grate like wooden structure that hung from the transom of the boat.
“I can also tell there’s a compressor on board. That means they can fill their own scuba tanks.
Besides, it looks like it’s about fifty feet. That means it will be nice and stable.”
“I see,” Marissa said. She was impressed that Wendy knew so much about it. She felt she was in good hands.
“You ladies interested in fishing or diving?” a bearded man asked.
“Possibly,” Wendy said.
“What’s the charge for a full day’s divine. ” “Come on aboard and we’ll discuss it,” the man told her.
“Name’s Rafe Murray. I’m the captain of this vessel.”
With experienced steps, Wendy marched out on the two-foot wide planks that separated the boat’ slips and swung herself onto the gunwale of the Oz. Then she stepped down onto the deck of the boat.
Marissa tried to follow with the same bravado, but hesitated with one foot on the dock and one foot on the boat. The captain lent her a hand for balance and she was able to step on board.
A handsome, muscular younger man came out of the cabin. He smiled and tipped his lived-in Australian hat to the women.
“This here’s my first mate and dive master, Wynn Jones,” the captain said.
“Knows the reef like the back of his hand, he does.”
Wendy asked if they might tour the boat, then followed the agreeable captain from bow to stern. Satisfied, she sat down in the cabin with the captain and bargained for an all-day dive rate.
Marissa had never seen this tough side of her friend.
Eventually a deal was struck and Wendy and Rafe shook hands. At that point, the captain asked if the women would care for a couple of “stubbies,” which Marissa soon learned were small brown bottles of beer.
After the beer, Marissa and Wend climbed up onto the gunwale and leaped to the dock. Wynn gave Marissa a hand to make sure she made it.
“Goddamn cheap son-of-a-bitch bastard Yanks,” the captain said as Wynn rejoined him in the cabin.
“She got me down so low it will barely pay for the petrol.”
“We haven’t been out for four days,” Wynn reminded him.
“We’ll just go to the closest reef and let them look at some dead staghorn coral. It will serve’m right.”
“Hello!” a voice called.
“Now what?” Rafe said. He squinted through the cabin door.
“Maybe things are looking up. We got a Nip-” “I don’t think he’s a Nip,” Wynn said.
“He looks Chinese to me.”
Rafe and Wynn walked out into the afternoon sunlight.
“What can I do for you, sir?” Rafe called to the man on the pier.
“Are you available for charter tomorrow?” the man said.
