"Absolutely not," he said.
"Don't even try to tempt me. I ran out of idealism two years ago."
"Why would FCA and the Women's Clinic be involved with drugs?" she asked.
"Just for the money'? Wouldn't they be risking too much?"
"That's a good question," Tristan said.
"I've asked it myself.
My guess is that they might be part of a money-laundering scheme. The clinic needs lots of capital for continued global expansion."
"So the Chinese coming from the PRC are couriers for money or drugs or both," Marissa said.
"That's my guess," Tristan said.
"But that brings me back to the tuberculosis," Marissa said.
"How does that fit in?"
Tristan shrugged.
"As I said, I don't have all the answers. I suppose it has to be an inadvertent effect. I don't have a clue as to how the women pick it up. TB is usually an airborne infection.
How it gets to the fallopian tubes is beyond me."
"That's not how you make a diagnosis in medicine," Marissa. said.
"All the symptoms and signs have to be related directly to the main diagnosis. Almost always it is one disease. I think TB has to be considered central to the problem."
"Then you're on your own," Tristan said.
"There's no way I can explain what's happened with that caveat."
"So come with me," Marissa begged.
"You certainly have as much at stake as I do in learning the truth."
"No!" Tristan said.
"I'm not getting involved. Not again.
Recently I've been thinking that enough time has passed and I've saved a lot of money, enough to take my son back and move someplace far away, maybe even the States."
"Okay," Marissa said.
"I guess I can understand." Her tone said she didn't understand at all.
"Thank you again for talking with me." The two stood up. Marissa stuck her hand out and Tristan shook it.
"Good luck," Tristan said.
Marissa squinted as she stepped outside into the blazing hot sun. She walked to her car and looked in at the dust. She was not relishing her ride back to Windorah, nor the odyssey back to Charleville the next day.
She got into the car as carefully as possible to avoid raising a dust cloud. After starting the engine, she drove out of the Wilmington
Station, waving to a few of the stock men working on a run of fence. She hung a left and started back toward Windorah.
As she drove through the forbidding countryside, she reviewed everything Tristan had told her. Although she hadn't found out anything new about the TB salpingitis, she'd learned much she'd never expected, all of it disturbing. Perhaps the most disturbing was the suggestion of foul play in Tristan's wife's death. If Tristan was right, Marissa felt that lent greater plausibility to the idea that the sharks had been deliberately attracted by the two men tossing the chum. And if that were the case, her own life was in jeopardy.
Marissa drove the car by reflex as she wondered what she could do to protect herself. Unfortunately she didn't have any particularly startling ideas. If people she didn't know wanted to kill her, how would she know who they were? It was hard to protect herself from the unexpected. Danger could come at any moment.
Just then, as if to prove her fears, she became aware of an odd vibration. At first she thought her car had been tampered with.
She glanced at the gauges and dials on the dashboard. All registered normal. Yet the vibration soon crescendoed to a roar.
In a panic, Marissa gripped the steering wheel. She knew she had to do something fast. In desperation she slammed on the brakes and threw the steering wheel hard to the left. The car skidded sideways. For an instant, Marissa felt it was about to roll over.
The instant Marissa came to a jolting halt, a plane thundered overhead, missing the top of her car by barely ten feet.
Marissa knew then that the people who had killed Wendy had somehow found her. Now they would concoct an accident to dispense with her.
Her car had stalled. Frantically, she tried to restart it. Through the windshield she could see that the plane had looped up, banked, and was now coming back toward her. In the distance it looked no bigger than an insect, but already its sound was rattling the car.
With the engine going at last, Marissa put the car in gear. The plane was almost on her. Ahead was a lone acacia tree. For some crazy reason, Marissa thought that if she could get to the tree, it would provide a modicum of protection. She threw the wheel to the right to straighten the car, then gunned the engine. The car shot forward.
The plane was headed right for her. It had dropped to less than ten feet from the ground. It was roaring along the road directly at her. Behind the plane, the dust billowed hundreds of feet into the air.
Realizing she wasn't going to make it to the tree, Marissa slammed on the brakes again and raised her arms protectively in front of her eyes. With a thundering growl the plane came at her, then pulled up at the last second. The car shuddered as the plane screamed overhead.
Opening her eyes, Marissa floored the gas pedal again. Within seconds she had the car off the road and under the tree. Behind her she could hear the plane returning.
Twisting in her seat, she faced around, fully expecting to see the craft coming at her. But instead, it was paralleling the road.
As it passed by her, its wheels touched down. The high-pitched drone of its twin engines dropped to a deeper roar. That was when Marissa. recognized the plane. Inside was Tristan Williams.
Relief quickly changed to irritation as Marissa watched the plane slow to a near stop, turn, then taxi back. When it was alongside her car, it turned again, facing down the road. The engine was cut and Tristan jumped from the cabin.
He walked up to Marissa with his hat jauntily pushed back on his forehead.
"Marissa Blumenthal!" he quipped.
"Imagine meeting you out here!"
"You scared me to death," Marissa said hotly.
"And you deserved it," Tristan said with equal vehemence.
Then he smiled.
"Maybe I'm a little crazy, too. But I had to let you know that I've changed my mind. Maybe I owe it to my wife's memory. Maybe I owe it to myself. Whatever. I've got some holiday time and a lot of cash, so I'll go with you to Hongkers and we'll see if we can figure this thing out."
"Really?" Marissa asked.
"Are you sure?"
"Don't make me reexamine my decision," Tristan warned.
"But I couldn't let you wing off to Hong Kong by yourself under these circumstances. I'd feel guilty, and I've already experienced enough guilt for a lifetime."
"I'm so pleased," Marissa said.
"You have no idea."
"Don't be too pleased," Tristan said.
"Because it's not going to be any proper holiday, I can assure you of that. It's not going to be easy and it'll definitely be dangerous. Are you sure you want to go through with it?"
"No question," Marissa said.
"Especially now!"
"Where are you headed at the moment?" Tristan asked.
"I'm staying at the Western Star Hotel," Marissa said.
"I was planning on driving to Charleville in the morning."
"Here's my suggestion," he said.
"Go back to the Western Star and wait for me. I'll meet you there. I've got another station to visit. I can arrange to have this rental car driven back to Charleville if you have the fortitude to fly with me in my King Air
"I'd do anything to avoid that drive from Windorah to Charleville,"
Marissa said.
Tristan tipped his hat.
"See you at the Western Star." He turned and started back toward his plane.
"Tris!" Marissa called.
He turned.
Marissa blushed.
"Can I call you Tris?" she asked.
"You can call me anything you want," Tristan said.
"Here in the land of Oz,
even Bastard is a term of endearment."
"I just wanted to thank you for volunteering to go with me to Hong Kong," Marissa said.
"Like I said, better hold back on your thanks until you see what we're getting ourselves into," Tristan said.
"Have you ever been to Hong Kong?"
"No," Marissa said.
"Well, hang on to your kookaburra. The outback of Australia is the absolute opposite of Hongkers. It's a city out of control, especially now that it's scheduled to be handed over to the PRC in '97. The place is a bit desperate, and it's always operated on money and money alone. Everything is for sale.in Hong Kong, even LIFE itself And, in Hong Kong life is cheap. I mean it. There it's not just a cliche.
I'm sure I wouldn't have been able to handle it on my own," Marissa. said.
Tristan eyed her.
"I'm not so sure of that," he said.
"You've given me the impression that you've got more than your share of pluck and determination." With a final smile, Tristan turned back to his plane.
Soon the engines were roaring again and the props were sending a torrent of dust into the air. With a final wave, Tristan released his brake and the King Air leaped forward, soaring off into the searing sun.
April 10, 19907:15 AM.
"Time to get up!" a voice called, stirring Marissa from what felt like a drugged sleep.
"The Williams' Oriental tour is about to begin and it starts with a stockman-style breakfast."
Marissa's eyes blinked open. Tristan was at the window, pulling back the curtain. Weak early morning sunlight streamed into the room.
"Let's go!" Tristan said. He came over to the bed and gave the covers a tug. Marissa grabbed them in panic. Tristan laughed, then spun on his heels.
"I'll expect you in half an hour in the morning room," he said before pulling the door closed behind him.
Marissa glanced at the room. It was the guest room in Tristan's small house on the outskirts of Charleville. The room was a dormered space, quaintly decorated with a flower print wallpaper.
The bed was wrought-iron with an eyelet comforter.
They'd moved swiftly once Tristan told Marissa he would accompany her to Hong Kong. They'd gotten back to Charleville before dark after an uneventful flight. From the air Marissa began to realize just how vast and and a country she was in. She had once read that Australia was the oldest continent on earth.
From above, it looked it.
She had spent the night at Tristan's house only after a mild argument. At first she'd been reluctant, but Tristan had been insistent.
"If you can't trust me to spend the night in my guest room, then how are you going to trust me in Hongkers?"
Marissa had relented in the end.
The evening had passed quickly. Tristan spent most of the time making arrangements to go on holiday. He called his colleague, Bob Marlowe, to arrange for him to cover Tristan's professional responsibilities.
Marissa had slept better than she had on the two previous nights.
Reluctantly, she slipped her legs from under the blanket and got out of bed.
After a hearty breakfast of porridge, eggs, and sausage, Tristan made a few more final arrangements, including a visit to his bank.
Then together they went out to the Charleville airport and boarded a Flight West commuter to Brisbane.
In Brisbane they transferred airports to catch the 11: 15 Qantas flight to Hong Kong. Before going through passporl control, Marissa took Tristan aside to tell him that the police inspector had asked her to stay on Hamilton Island.
"What if they detain me?" she asked.
"What if they arrest meT "Come on!" Tristan responded with a laugh.
"You don't really think Royal Australian police are that efficient, do you?"
The uniformed man in the passport control booth barely looked at her.
The flight was peacefully uneventful. Once again Marissa was amazed by the expansive Pacific. Until this trip, she'd had no idea what a big ocean it was. In silent testimony to how much better she was feeling now that she had Tristan to count on, Marissa soon drifted off to sleep.
Right on schedule, the Qantas jet's wheels touched down with a thump at Kai Tac Airport at 5:43 P.m." giving Marissa her first Hong Kong. Despite the purpose of their trip, she sight of couldn't help feeling a shiver of excitement.
From the air, the colony had looked like a peaceful collection of rocky, forested islands set in an emerald-green sea. But from the airport runway it already looked quite different. Across the impossibly congested harbor of bobbing vessels, it looked starkly urban, like a futuristic city crowded with skyscrapers of concrete, steel, and mirrored glass. Even through the plane's porthole she could sense the exotic, mysterious nature of the busiest and richest of all Chinese cities.
Formalities at the airport were swift. As they waited at the luggage carousel for their "swag," as Tristan called it, they were approached by a representative from the Peninsula Hotel, where Tristan had booked adjoining rooms. To Marissa's surprise, they were escorted out of the terminal building to a waiting RollsRoyce.
"Isn't this a bit extravagant?" Marissa asked as they pulled out of the airport.
"This must be one fancy hotel."
"And why not!" Tristan said.
"Don't you Yanks have the expression 'you only go around once'? I'm on holiday and I haven't been on holiday for years. I intend to try to enjoy myself, even if we are here on serious business."
Marissa wondered what Robert would say when he saw the charges.
The hotel car quickly got bogged down in rush hour traffic, the likes of which Marissa had never seen. She was shocked when the driver said traffic was better than usual.
Even in the hushed interior of the Rolls-Royce limousine, Marissa was overwhelmed by the clamor and clutter of the city.
As Tristan had implied, it was different enough from the Australian outback to make her think she'd traveled to another planet.
They were snared in a crush of double-decker buses, trams, cars, bicycles, motorbikes, and people, lots of people. By the time they arrived at the hotel, Marissa felt drained, as if she'd had to walk the entire route.
But once the hotel doors closed behind them, the world changed again. The huge lobby with its gilded ceiling was decorated in a restrained yet luxuriant fashion with only a hint of Oriental flavor. The most disturbing sounds were those caused by high heeled shoes clicking against the polished marble floor. The melodious sound of a grand piano added to the elegant atmosphere.
The check-in procedure was accomplished with minimum confusion.
They left their passports with the receptionist. A manager accompanied them up to their connecting rooms on the sixth floor. At Tristan's insistence, he unlocked the connecting doors.
Tristan said that there'd be no taking chances; he wanted ready access in case of any trouble.
Marissa joined Tristan at the window. They had a sweeping view of Hong Kong Harbor, which was filled with boats of every description and size. Tristan pointed out the green and white air, ferries that were passing each other in their runs to and from Hong Kong Island across the way. There were junks and sampans with' graceful butterfly sails. Lighters were moored against the freighters anchored in the middle of the channel. Highly varnished launches sped through the choppy waters. Evena huge cruise ship was slowly edging its way into its berth at the ocean terminal.
The luggage quickly followed. Tristan tipped the bellman, who silently bowed and exited, closing the door behind him.
"Well!" Tristan said, rubbing his hands together.
"Here we are in Hong Kong. How do you like it so far?"
"I can see what you meant when you described it," Marissa said.
"It's a bit overwhelming."
"How about a little refreshment before dinner?" Tristan suggested.
Without waiting for an answer, he picked up the phone and called room service. He ordered beer.
"None for me," Marissa called before Tristan
had hung up.
She'd had enough beer in Australia to last her for some time.
"Change that to champagne," Tristan said into the phone.
"Two glasses."
Marissa was about to object, but Tristan had already hung up.
Robin Cook 1990 - Vital Signs Page 31
