“She’s booked into Palm Court Hotel,” Nick volunteered. “Collect you at two for the mangrove walk, Donna. Give me a chance to clean up from my fishing trip.”
Donna’s eyes widened as he clambered up into the high truck Lang had referred to as his four-wheel drive. “Has he got another car, or will I be expected to be taken to the mangrove walk in that?”
“He has another car,” Lang assured her as he slid into the driving seat.
The car purred into life and the air-conditioning flowed coolness into Donna’s face. She relaxed and wondered how she was going to be able to cope with the intense oven-like heat of Darwin for an entire four days. The car moved quietly along the lanes of the car park and turned into the road. It looked a very quiet road to Donna’s city eyes, with featureless bush each side of it.
“Sounds like Nick Carrellas was running late as usual,” Donna fumed.
“He probably came straight from the beach, running too late to swap cars,” Lang said amiably. “This is Darwin—no rush.” He slid a sideways glance at her. “When in Rome.”
“Darwin is a fair way from Rome,” Donna pointed out.
“Same system,” Lang explained. “If you rush around Darwin, you will give yourself an ulcer or a heart attack.”
“Point taken.” Donna restrained her irritation with an effort.
They left the featureless bush each side of the road behind and drove down quiet streets with gardens of palms, bougainvilleas, and blossoming frangipani obscuring ordinary suburban-looking houses.
“Darwin looks such a pretty and colorful place,” Donna remarked.
“Darwin got rebuilt after cyclone Tracy went through. Most of the houses are fairly modern and built to cyclone-proof specifications.”
“So fresh and clean.”
“It gets very well-washed during the wet season,” Lang drawled. “This is the dry, and the best time to visit. Will you have time to spare for any sightseeing?”
Donna thought about the pearl industry, and the divers who worked for it and smiled. “I’d love to find time. The pearl industry is pretty strong up here isn’t it? Any chance of me having a look at it?”
“Trust a journo to pick something like that.” Lang sounded resigned. “What about a trip down to Kakadu or somewhere interesting?”
“Perhaps,” Donna agreed.
Time was running out. If Matt was up here and he had taken a job diving again, she had to find him. If he decided to keep moving to one of the overseas oil rigs, she would never catch up with him. She scowled.
“Take a few extra days,” Lang suggested as he noticed the scowl. “After all, you do have the excuse of being disabled.”
This brought Donna back to the facts of her next few days. What was she going to do if her ankle really was broken? Not only would she look pretty silly swinging along on crutches to the mangrove walk, but remembering her research on the trawler industry, it took a certain amount of fitness to prowl around boats.
“I am due for some leave,” she admitted slowly. “I might be able to get a few extra days.”
“It would be silly to leave here without seeing a bit of the place.” He slid her a quick glance. “Lots of interesting things to see and do.”
“Perhaps.” If she caught up with Matt and managed to make him see reason, she might have a chance to snoop out a more interesting story than the conference. “I would really like to see something of the place,” she amended.
She slid another look at him. His face was bland and somehow closed. She gave herself a mental shake. She sighed as she remembered. With her father’s bad heart, finding her brother could turn into a matter of life or death. She had much more important things on her mind than a light flirtation.
Chapter Four
It was only a few minutes later that the car turned into a car park in front of a spacious two-storey building. The notice in the front said that it was the Darwin Private Hospital. It had a garden of palms and flowering shrubs around it, and Donna admired them as Lang got out of the car and opened her door.
“I can walk,” she protested, but he had already scooped her up to carry her across the car park and through the entrance to the reception desk.
“Hi, Lang,” the pretty blonde behind the desk said. “What have you done this time?”
Lang winked at her. “This one I knocked over. Fetch a wheelchair.”
The girl laughed and hurried away. She returned pushing a wheelchair, and Donna was lowered into it. Five minutes after the paperwork was completed, Lang pushed her along a corridor, giving cheerful greetings to everyone who passed. Someone else wheeled her off to have her X-ray. Later she was wheeled back to another office to wait the results. Lang strolled in to join her.
“You know a lot of people here,” Donna remarked as she watched him raise his hand in cheerful greeting to a couple of grinning dark-skinned men who walked past.
“Darwin is a very small place.”
A doctor arrived with the X-rays and a walking stick. “You haven’t torn ligaments; it’s just sprained.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Lang promised.
Donna stood up and limped out into the car park, trying to accustom herself to the walking stick.
The remorseless heat hit them again. She decided she had a proper headache. Lang settled her into the car, and the headache faded as the air-conditioner started with the engine. They drove along a main highway, and the private homes petered out, and there were small businesses and factory sheds.
“I don’t want to cause you unnecessary trouble,” she said breaking the silence between them.
“I don’t mind trouble.”
“That relieves me immensely,” Donna returned sweetly.
Lang laughed. He turned into the curving road following the bay around. One side of the Esplanade was lined with businesses, private homes, and hotels. Along the bay side was the unbroken bright green of gardens, with bright splashes of bougainvillea along it. Below that the bay spread out its improbable bright blue until it merged with the blue of the sky. Deeper green inlets edged it until they vanished into the haze of distance, and what looked like islands of the same deep green spread across the bay to vanish into the same haze.
“It looks out of this world,” Donna exclaimed.
“Very decorative,” Lang agreed. “But not much good for swimming, what with crocodiles and jelly fish and one thing and another.”
The car pulled into the curb. The Palm Court hotel looked old-fashioned but colorful, with verandahs smothered in the brilliant bougainvillea. Lang got out of the car, opened the passenger door, and helped Donna out. He followed her out of the heat and into the air-conditioned comfort of the tiled entrance to the reception desk.
“Ms. Madison’s key please,” he requested of the boy behind the reception desk. He dropped his car keys on the desk. “Get someone to collect Ms. Madison’s luggage out of the boot and bring it up.”
“Very trusting of you,” Donna remarked.
“I’m a very trusting person,” he returned blandly as he escorted Donna across to the elevator.
“You don’t have to escort me to my room,” Donna said with a smile, and put out her hand. “Thank you for your help.”
“Of course I will ensure you reach your room safely,” he said as he grasped her hand and kept holding it.
“I’m not that injured that I need your help.”
“Maybe I am,” he muttered.
At that moment the young man returned with the suitcase and pressed the button for the sixth floor. He handed over Lang’s car keys, and his glance slid over Donna.
“Like your taste these days, Lang,” he said with a grin.
“Thanks, Jake,” Lang replied. He winked at Donna who felt her mouth curve in response. “I like my taste, too.”
“Half your luck,” Jake replied as he pressed the door open button.
Jake led the way along the spacious corridor and unlocked a door. Lang followed Donna through. Jake placed the
case on the bed. Donna dropped her laptop on the small table and looked around with open pleasure. The suite was spacious and airy with a lazy ceiling fan moving the warm air. French windows opened on to a balcony that overlooked the incredible vista of the blue of bay and sky.
“Enjoy your walk,” Lang said as he and the attendant left, closing the door after them.
Chapter Five
Donna stretched out on the bed thankfully and tried to relax, but her mind wouldn’t turn off. She had to find her brother and only had four days. What if the information so casually dropped about divers heading up to the good money at Darwin had been wrong? What if her brother was working at Broome instead? It was the real centre of the pearling industry after all.
Why was her brother’s behavior so out of character? Could drugs account for his odd behavior? Matt had been losing weight, which wasn’t that unusual. The finishing of an academic year could be stressful. Over the past few months, he had become oddly evasive about his movements and his unpleasant set of friends, but surely he had been just preoccupied rather than prey to the suspect mood swings of a drug addict.
She forced herself to relax. She was letting her imagination run away with her. Of course her brother couldn’t be on drugs! She studied the agenda. The first item was the opening of the mangrove walk. Nick was supposed to collect her about two, and she would say a few words about his unreliability when he arrived.
Right through her sandwiches and coffee, her shower and changing her clothes, her mind kept returning to the problem of her brother. He wasn’t into drinking as a hobby, yet he could be enjoying barbeques and parties at private homes. There was an informality and relaxed attitude to the influx of visitors that made Darwin a very hospitable place.
A knock on the door disturbed her musing. With a shock, Donna realized that it was already two o’clock. The errant Nick had arrived at last. She grabbed a broad-brimmed straw hat and swept her notebook and tape recorder into her bag that she slid over her shoulder.
“And about time…” she started as she flung open the door.
Her voice trailed away. It was Lang, not Nick, outside the door. He had changed into tailored shorts and an open-necked shirt. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, and nothing showed in his face except a bland good humor.
“Are you ready, and how is your ankle?” he asked.
“Improving,” Donna said. “Where’s Nick?”
“Appears to have gone missing,” Lang explained. “Taken a few days off, I’m told.”
“I thought he had a more professional attitude to his work,” Donna fumed. “What am I supposed to do now?”
“I’m substituting as your photographer. Any problems?”
“Of course not. Do you know where the mangrove boardwalk opening is?”
“Just down the road.” Lang reached for her arm to support her limping progress down the hall. “Speeches, official opening, walk along the completed mangrove walk, and afternoon tea.”
They headed down the lift, across the reception area, and into the heat and glare of the outside world. Donna pulled on her hat and her sunglasses. The BMW was parked by the curb.
Lang drove out of the city and away from the bay. The flat countryside opened out into straggling bush and heat shimmered across the road. The car turned off and headed down a track that wound past more of the same bushland.
Straggling clumps of large bamboos appeared, and in a few cleared areas were several rusted and wrecked cars. It looked a very desolate, isolated piece of neglected land, and certainly nothing like a place set up for an official opening.
Donna sneaked an uneasy look at Lang. Just because the unreliable Nick had vouched for him was no reason to trust him. She was in a strange place, and no one here knew her. She should have found time to meet the editor of the local paper and made herself known. She only had Lang’s word that he was replacing Nick. What if Nick was just running late as usual?
“The dumped cars don’t do much for the scenery. They will have to remove them,” Lang said as he gestured across to them.
“Have you got the venue right?” Donna asked, relieved at such a humdrum remark. “This doesn’t look much like an official opening.”
“Certainly doesn’t,” Lang agreed. The dimple was back at the side of his mouth. “Are you hoping I have brought you here for a more romantic purpose?”
“The rust of the dumped cars is irresistibly romantic of course,” Donna said. “But the purpose of this afternoon is the official opening.”
“Naturally,” Lang agreed.
He slowed his driving to negotiate around the deeper holes of the track. At last they turned into a large cleared area, with rows of shining cars parked in it. Over to one side a pavilion had been erected, with seats set out under it. People grouped around talking to each other. Lang parked the car neatly beside the others.
He got out, opened Donna’s door and helped her out. “Thank you,” she said as she leaned on her walking stick and moved away from him.
Again Donna felt the heat like a solid wall. Still, she was going to have to be able to cope with it. She wasn’t going to be able to learn much cooped up in an air-conditioned hole for her stay.
Chapter Six
Lang waved greetings to people and introduced Donna as they made their way through the crowd. She smiled and tried to remember names. There were representatives from the local paper, the tourists’ association, and more local councilors. A local state politician made a short speech, mopping his brow as he spoke. Donna turned on her tape recorder, listened intently and made the occasional note.
The Mangrove Walk that had grown, segment by segment, through the mangroves, with the support of the various businesses, charities, and the schools, and was now completed right through to the beach.
He invited the guests to walk along it, and take full advantage of the chance to see the natural ecology of the mangrove swamps without having to wade through mud and watch out for crocodiles while they did so. Afternoon tea and refreshments would be served on their return from the walk.
People dispersed along the boardwalk that wound its way through the bush. Lang took more photographs at Donna’s direction.
“Feel up to walking the distance to the beach?” Lang asked.
“Have to, don’t I?” Donna replied.
The Mangrove Walk curved its way through the trees, and they made their way along it. Donna decided that her ankle didn’t feel too bad if she didn’t rush. She walked along, leaning on Lang and using the walking stick. People gradually overtook them with smiled apologies.
The slope dropped away and the featureless bush and scrub gave way to mangroves. The ground below had become dried mud, littered and untidy, with the exposed roots and dead branches and odd holes dotting the ground.
“What are the holes?” Donna asked.
“That's mud crabs and other wildlife. This is all underwater when the tide comes in.”
It was very quiet. The others were too far ahead to be heard, and the people following behind moved too slowly to catch up with them. The mangroves seemed to muffle all sound. They paced slowly through the dappled shade and heat.
“It feels very primeval, like nothing has changed since the beginning of time,” Donna said thoughtfully.
“Nothing has,” Lang agreed. “It’s an endless cycle. The tide floods in and the sea creatures come in with it to mate and feed and the tide floods out and more creatures come out to mate and feed.”
“Interesting.”
Donna’s senses felt suddenly heightened. The heat poured down from the endless incredible blue of the sky. There was nothing drab about the coloring of the mangroves, so richly olive-green, with the gnarled brown trunks lifting out of the paler dried mud. There were bright orange patches on the crabs scuttling across the darker holes.
Primeval was probably the correct adjective, she thought dreamily. She was suddenly more aware of the man supporting her as she limped along. There was a rightness to the feel of the
warm bare arm supporting her. She fitted so perfectly against him, it was as if they had been designed for each other.
A couple came up behind them and made laughing apologies as they moved past on the narrow walkway. Donna returned from her trance-like, dreamy state to reality, and she realized she had somehow moved closer and leaned more heavily against Lang. She flushed and moved away to put more reliance on the walking stick.
“Your ankle won’t heal if you put too much weight on it,” he warned as he pulled her back against him.
People now started to pass them on the way back. The walkway ahead straightened out, and the thick belt of mangroves ended. People stood grouped on the small platform at the end of the walkway, looking out at the endless mud flats of the shoreline to the shimmer of water on the horizon.
“Perhaps you would take some pictures of our politician and the more important greenies on the platform looking over it all,” Donna suggested.
She watched as he smilingly made requests to the politicians and greenies and made tactful suggestions as to poses. He showed her the results, and she nodded approvingly. His work was equal to the standard of any of her professional photographers. They made their way back slowly to the welcome sight of the pavilion and the trestles tables set out with the afternoon tea. Two smiling ladies in pale blue aprons bustled around, handing around plates of sandwiches and cakes.
Lang guided Donna to a chair set apart from the others and under the shade of a tree.
“Tea or coffee?” he asked.
“Black coffee and two sugars,” she said.
She watched as he went over to the pavilion. Two men in the same pale blue aprons over their tailored shorts and white shirts as the tea ladies were behind the trestle tables, washing cups and plates in a large dish. He said something to one of the tea ladies. She laughed and produced a small tray for him. He returned with mugs of coffee, sandwiches and cakes.
The Secret Agenda Page 2
