Lester stood up and leaned over his desk. “I want you mates to clean this affair up. Ned, you start looking for this woman in the usual hotels, here and in Sydney. Use our government connections to find out if she’s left the country. Willy, I want you to visit Tristan Williams and hang around. This Mrs. Buchanan had originally talked about finding the man. If she were to have a conversation with him, a bad situation could conceivably get far worse.”

“What if she’s already left the country?” Ned asked.

“I want her disposed of,” Lester said. “I don’t care where she goes, the States or even Europe. Is that clear?”

Ned stood up. “Perfectly clear,” he said. “It’ll be a challenge. But then, I like challenges.”

12
April 9, 1990
7:11 A.M.

Marissa woke up feeling exhausted. She had not had a good night’s sleep. She had checked into a tidy motel in Charleville and, though her bed was comfortable, she’d hardly done more than doze. Every time she closed her eyes, she’d see that great white shark. The few times she managed to fall asleep, she’d be shocked awake by a nightmare vision of Wendy in the shark’s jaws. Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, she did sleep fitfully for almost three hours.

Although she wasn’t hungry, Marissa forced herself to eat some breakfast before setting out for the car rental office.

As she walked down the street in Charleville, Marissa had the feeling she was in a time warp and was back in a Midwestern town in the United States fifty years previously. The quaint Victorian character that she’d expected to see in Brisbane was evident in some of the homes and office buildings. The air was clear and bright, and the streets were free of litter. And the early-morning sun was hot enough to suggest what its noontime power would be.

At the car rental office in the Shell station, Marissa rented a Ford Falcon. She asked for a map, but the attendant didn’t have one to offer.

“Where are you planning to go?” he asked in a slow Queenslander drawl.

“Windorah,” Marissa said.

The man looked at her as if she were crazy. “What on earth for?” he asked. “Do you know how far it is to Windorah?”

“Not exactly,” Marissa admitted.

“It’s over two hundred miles,” the agent said. “Two hundred miles of nothing but wallabies, koos, and lizards. Probably take you eight to ten hours. Better fill up that reserve tank in the trunk. There’s also one for water. Fill that up just to be sure.”

“What’s the road like?” Marissa asked.