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.”

10
April 7, 1990
1:40 P.M.

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.