Vital Signs

13

Marissa remained in a tight ball around the hoisting cable until she felt the cage settle on the deck of the boat. Only then did she open her eyes.

Rafe was already opening the cage door, swinging it out and away. Wynn struggled through the small door. He had a hand over the gash on his arm. Despite the pressure, it was bleeding profusely.

Marissa let go of the cable and, with her flippers still on, managed to climb down from the top of the cage. It took a few moments for the awful truth to sink in: Wendy wasn't on the boat with them. In her mind's eye, she saw Wendy in the shark's jaws.

"Wendy's still in the water!" she screamed. But Rafe was busy attending to Wynn's wound. The two men had rushed to the spot where they kept an emergency first-aid kit.

Tripping over her flippers, Marissa tried to run after them. She struggled out of her scuba tank, letting it drop on the deck. Then she bent down and pulled off her flippers.

When she reached the men, Rafe was trying to stem the arterial blood flow with a pressure bandage.

"What about Wendy?" Marissa screamed.

Rafe didn't even look up from his dressing attempts.

"Wynn says there was a hungry great white down there."

"We have to find her!" Marissa screamed.

"We can't leave her there. Please!"

"That's the best I can do for now, mate," Rafe said to Wynn, who nodded. Wynn clamped his hand over the bandage.

Unable to control herself, Marissa broke into tears.

"Please!" she screamed.

Rafe ignored her and went to his radio to request assistance from the shore patrol.

Marissa was beside herself After the captain got off the radio, she pleaded with him between sobs to go into the water to find Wendy.

"What do you think I am?" Rafe shouted.

"Bloody crazy? You don't go into the water when there's a great white in the neighborhood.

I'm sorry about your friend, but there's nothing I can do but wait and see if she surfaces. She could have fled into the coral heads."

"I saw the shark grab her," Marissa moaned.

"You have to do something," Marissa pleaded.

"If you can think of anything besides going in the water, let me know," Rafe said, going back to attend to Wynn.

Not knowing what else to do, Marissa sank to her knees, covered her face with her hands, and wept.

Soon she became aware of an increasingly loud whirring noise.

Sitting up against the gunwale, she spotted a helicopter bearing down on them. When it was directly above the Oz, it began to hover. Marissa could see a man at an open door, clutching a hoist secured to the side of the craft.

Rafe went back to the radio and had another conversation with the shore patrol, then he contacted the helicopter pilot overhead. Rafe told him that they had been able to stop the bleeding. Between the two of them, they decided that it wasn't worth the danger of trying to get Wynn up to the helicopter now that the bleeding was under control.

"I'm still missing one diver," Rafe said into the radio.

"We'll send out a patrol boat," the chopper pilot said. After signing off, the helicopter dipped forward, then sped back toward the mainland.

Rafe hung up the radio receiver.

"Guess we'd better wait for the patrol boat to get here," he said.

"I can't believe you people!" Marissa yelled.

"You really aren't going to do anything about Wendy, are you?"

Rafe ignored her while he checked Wynn's dressing. It was staying dry.

"And you," Marissa said with venom, pointing at Wynn.

"You wouldn't let me in that damn cage."

"I was trying to help you," Wynn said.

"The door opens out, not in. I was trying to show you, but you wouldn't let me."

Marissa's eyes went to the cage. The door was ajar; she could see that it did indeed open out.

Marissa turned to Rafe.

"Who were those men who threw the chum into the water?" she demanded.

"Two blokes who had wanted to go fishing," Rafe said.

"It was the Asian fellow who hired the Oz. He'd stayed in his cabin until the powerboat arrived. I don't know why they had it. Guess they decided against fishing after all and just dumped their bait.

I wouldn't have let them do that if I'd known."

"It was the bait that brought the sharks," Marissa said.

"Undoubtedly," Rafe said.

Marissa didn't know what to think. She was still trembling. An hour passed. Still the patrol boat was nowhere to be seen. The water around the boat cleared. Even the waves calmed. Looking off the stern, Marissa could no longer see any fish.

"My arm is starting to bleed again," Wynn announced anxiously.

Rafe examined the bandage.

"A little," he agreed.

"It's not bad. But let's head in. To hell with that patrol boat."

"We're not going until we look for Wendy," Marissa said.

"It's no use," Rafe said.

"She would have appeared by now if there was any chance."

"If you refuse to look," Marissa said, "then I'll go myself."

She walked over to the bank of scuba tanks and pulled one free.

Then she picked up her flippers, which were still on the bow deck.

When Marissa returned, Rafe grabbed her arm.

"You're crazy if you go in that water."

Marissa indignantly pulled her arm from his grasp.

"At least I'm not a coward."

"I'll go," Wynn said, standing up unsteadily.

"You're not going anywhere!" Rafe yelled.

"All right! I'll go have a look."

Clearly fuming, Rafe went below, then came back wearing his swimming togs. He suited up in a buoyancy vest and tank, then grabbed a pair of flippers, a mask, and a three-foot steel rod.

"I want you to lower me in the cage," he told Wynn.

All three went forward. For a moment they eyed the bent bars on the front of the cage.

"I can't believe a living thing could do that," Rafe said. Then he climbed inside and put on his flippers and mask.

"Lower away," Rafe called.

Wynn went to the winch and lifted Rafe and the cage about a foot off the deck. Using only his good arm, he maneuvered the cage out over the water. Marissa helped steady it. Then he lowered the cage until he felt a tug on a rope he had in his hand.

Peering over the side, Marissa and Wynn watched Rafe as he eventually swam out of the cage. He disappeared under the boat.

In another minute or two he popped up on the dive platform.

"All's quiet down here," he said.

"Now, where was Wendy when you last saw her?"

"I'll come with you," Marissa said. Despite her fears, Marissa felt she owed that much to Wendy. She swiftly suited up. Wynn helped her with her tank. In another minute she was on the platform next to Rafe.

"I'm impressed," Rafe said.

"I really am. Aren't you seared to go back into the water after what happened?"

"I'm terrified," Marissa said.

"Let's go before I change my mind."

Instead of jumping far from the boat, Marissa eased herself into the water, scanning in all directions. But Rafe was right: the water was as peaceful and serene as when she'd first entered it that morning. A few butterfly and angel fish swam by. She glanced back at the shark cage, determined to be ready to make a swim for it should the need arise.

Turning to Rafe, Marissa motioned toward the mouth of the channel

There was less of a current than there had been earlier.

Where the channel opened into the ocean, they hesitated. Even in the distance they couldn't see anything larger than a few parrot fish nestled along the wall of the reef. The monster that had terrorized her not an hour before was nowhere to be seen.

Marissa's heart skipped a beat when she felt something touch her arm. Turning, she saw it was only Rafe. He signaled to her, asking which way they should go. Marissa pointed. Together, they headed in that direction.

After they'd gone about thirty feet, Marissa stopped Rafe with her hand. She signaled that they were now where she last saw Wendy. They began to scour the sandy floor, but they discovered nothing, not evena piece of diving gear.

Finally, Rafe motioned for them to return to the boat.

Climbing onto the dive platform, Marissa felt crushed. Wendy was truly gone. No, a trace was left of her. It seemed too incredible to be true. For the moment Marissa couldn't even cry anymore.

"Really sorry, luv," Rafe said. He slipped out of his gear.

"Wynn and I feel terribly about all this, we do. Never happened on the Oz before, I can assure you of that. Terrible accident, it was." Then he went forward and had Wynn pull up the shark cage while he used the radio.

Rafe told the shore patrol that the patrol boat had yet to appear. He gave them their position again and told them that although a diver was still missing, they were coming in to get medical attention for the injured first mate.

Once the diesels were started, Rafe had Wynn hoist up the anchor. Then they started back for Hamilton Island.

"You say you actually saw the shark seize the poor woman around the chest?" Mr. Griffiths, the Royal Australian police inspector, asked.

Marissa and Rafe were standing in front of the chest-high desk at the police station on Hamilton Island. They had gone there directly after dropping Wynn off at the medical facility.

"Yes," Marissa answered. She could still see the gruesome tragedy, making her feel weak.

"And you saw blood?" the inspector asked.

"Yes, yes!" Marissa cried. Tears began to run down her cheeks. She felt Rafe's arm on her shoulder.

"And you went back into the water and searched the area?" Mr. Griffiths asked.

"We did, indeed," Rafe answered.

"Mind you, it was over an hour later. Both myself and Miss Blumenthal here went back and searched. We found nothing. Not a trace. But my first mate tells me it was the largest shark he's ever seen, probably twenty-five, thirty feet."

"And this is the woman's passport?" Mr. Griffiths asked.

Marissa nodded. She had gotten the passport from Wendy's bag.

"Nasty business," Mr. Griffiths said. Then, looking at Marissa over the top of his reading glasses, he added: "Would you be willing to notify the next of kin? It might be best coming from a friend."

Marissa nodded, wiping away the tears.

"We'll schedule a coroner's inquest," Mr. Griffiths said.

"Anything either one of you would like to add?"

"Yes," Marissa said. She took a deep breath.

"The sharks were attracted by chum that was thrown into the water deliberately."

Mr. Griffiths removed his glasses.

"What are you implying, young lady?"

"I'm not sure Wendy's death was an accident," Marissa said.

"That is a serious allegation," Mr. Griffiths said.

"There was an Asian man on the boat," Marissa said.

"He didn't appear until we were out at the reef and already in the water. I happened to come back to the boat by myself while we were diving. I saw him and another man throwing chum into the water."

Mr. Griffiths looked at Rafe. Rafe raised his eyebrows.

"We did have a Chinese customer on board," he admitted.

"Said his name was Harry Wong. He'd chartered to fish on the outer reef.

He was met by a friend in a big powerboat. They had a lot of bait.

The last I talked with them they were going out in the powerboat after marlin. Apparently they changed their minds about fishing, and being uninformed, they just dumped their bait."

"I see," Mr. Griffiths said.

"I'm not convinced they were uninformed," Marissa said.

"Well, that's why we have coroner's inquests," Mr. Griffiths said.

"It's a chance to question all the details."

Feeling her cheeks flush, Marissa tried to control herself long enough to express her suspicions. She told Mr. Griffiths that she thought the Asian man might have been the same one who had been staring at her and Wendy the night before in the dining room of the Hamilton Island Resort.

"I see," Mr. Griffiths said. He toyed with his pen, "Well then, I can understand how upset you must be. If it is any solace, I can personally assure you that we will be making extensive inquiries into this tragedy."

Marissa was about to continue when she thought better of it.

She wasn't sure about what she was saying herself. Until the moment she'd voiced the opinion about the Asian being the same one in the hotel dining room, she hadn't thought of it. Besides, it was clear to her that the police inspector was being patronizing.

She had the distinct impression she was being humored.

"If there is nothing more for the moment," Mr. Griffiths said, "you two may go. But we would like to request that you remain on the island. We'll be contacting you tomorrow. I can also assure you that there will be an extensive search of the area for Mrs. Wilson-Anderson's remains."

Marissa and Rafe left the police station together. Rafe walked her back to her hotel. In the lobby, he paused before leaving her and said: "I'm really sorry for what happened. If I can help while you are here, please come down to the Oz.

Man'ssa thanked him, then went up to her room. After closing the door and seeing Wendy's belongings, she burst into fresh tears.

"I can't believe this has happened," Marissa said with a choking voice a half hour later once her sobs had tapered off. Getting up from the bed, she got Wendy's suitcase and packed away all her things. While she worked, she thought about everything that had been happening in the past few months. It seemed to her that the consequences of her infertility were beginning to spiral into horrendously tragic proportions.

After putting Wendy's packed suitcase into the corner of the closet, Marissa walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. For several minutes she eyed the phone, trying to muster her courage.

Finally, she picked up the receiver and dialed her home in Weston. The phone rang only twice before Robert's groggy voice said, "Hello?" Marissa realized that it was after two A.M. in Boston.

"Robert!" Marissa blurted out.

"Something terrible has happened."

Then, before she could tell him anything, she burst into hysterical tears again. It took five minutes before she could tell him about Wendy.

"My God!" Robert said.

Marissa described her suspicions; that Wendy's death might have been deliberate, not accidental.

Robert didn't reply at first. Then, like the police inspector, he reminded her that she'd had a terrible shock.

"After such an experience your imagination can do strange things," he told her.

"You might be trying to ascribe blame where there is none.

Anyway, try to relax. Try not to think too much."

"Could you come?" Marissa suddenly asked.

"To Australia?" Robert said.

"I think you should come home instead."

"But the police told me to stay on the island," Marissa said.

"The formalities can't take more than a day or so," Robert said.

"It would take me almost two days to get there. Besides, it would be hard for me: to leave now. It's only a week before April fifteenth, and you know what that means: taxes. It's better for you to come home as soon as you can."

"Sure," Marissa said, her tone suddenly flat.

"I understand," "Should I call Gustave?" Robert asked.

"If you would," Marissa said. But then she changed her mind.

"On second thought," she added, "maybe I should do it. Gustave may want to talk to me."

"All right," Robert said.

"Then call me back as soon as you know when you're arriving."

Marissa put the receiver down. Calling Gustave was going to be the hardest phone call she'd ever made. She tried to think of what to say, but there was no way she could soften the news.

Finally, she picked up the phone and dialed.

Gustave answered on the first ring. As a surgeon, he was no doubt accustomed to being awakened in the night. He didn't even sound as if he'd been asleep, though Marissa was sure he had been.

She got to the point quickly, telling Gustave exactly what had happened. She was even able to hold back her tears until she had finished relating the day's events.

On the other end, over the thousands of miles, there was only a heavy silence.

"Gustave-are you all right?" Marissa asked, her voice breakMg.

After a pause, Gustave said, "I… I suppose I will be. It's just so hard to believe. But Wendy always was a bit foolhardy when diving. Where are her belongings?"

"I've packed them," Marissa said, surprised and relieved that Gustave was taking the horrid news so well. She guessed he was relying on his practiced surgeon's objectivity and that the reality would hit later when he was alone.

"It must have been a terrible shock for you," Gustave said.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm managing," Marissa said.

"Marissa, I appreciate your calling. If you could just ship her belongings to me I would be most grateful. I'll contact the Augtralian authorities. I'd better go. Goodbye."

The line clicked dead and Marissa slowly replaced the receiver in its cradle. Her heart ached with the same pain she knew Gustave was feeling.

Flopping back on the bed, Marissa covered her face with her hands and sobbed until she could no longer cry. Then, with her hands still covering her face, her sadness began to transform to irritation, then even to anger.

Instead of being pleased with how much in control Gustave had been, it began to bother her. When she replayed the conversation in her mind, she hated that Gustave had sounded so cold and detached, as if she had been giving him a report on one of his patients and not on his wife. It made her suddenly wonder if the problems spawned by the infertility treatments were such that Gustave was relieved to some extent by Wendy's untimely death.

Rethinking Gustave's conversation made Marissa do the same with Robert's and with a similar result. The idea that Robert wouldn't volunteer to come instantly to Australia, knowing what kind of trauma she'd experienced, was unforgivable. Taxes!

What an absurd excuse. After all that had happened, she would have hoped that he would make their marriage a priority.

Marissa got up from the bed and walked to the window. The ocean glistened in the late afternoon sunlight. It was hard to believe that Wendy had met such a brutal fate in so serene a milieu. She wondered what her own fate would have been had nausea and fatigue not forced her back to the boat. Maybe she'd be dead as well. Maybe that had been the idea: to get rid of them both.

Marissa's throat went dry. She swallowed hard. She was thinking dangerous thoughts, maybe even crazy ones. Her mind went back to the vicious Chinese security guards at the Women's Clinic. Could they possibly be related to the sinister Chinese aboard the Oz? Marissa wondered if there was any connection between the Women's Clinic in the States and the FCA in Australia.

Marissa went out onto her balcony. She sank into the chaise lounge. That Wendy died for nothing hit her hard. How could she just let it go and return to Boston? Her thoughts drifted to the elusive Tristan Williams. Why would a trained pathologist make up the ridiculous data that could easily be proven false, all for the questionable benefit of publishing an article? It just didn't fit.

Marissa tapped her fingers nervously against the arm of her chair. She thought again of those men tossing chum over the side.

If they were so innocent, why did they flee the instant she called out to them? She could assume Tristan Williams had committed professional hara-kiri on a whim. She could talk herself into believing that those two on the Oz had not realized what they were doing. But the whole weird thing was beginning to remind her of the way she felt in the early days of the Ebola outbreaks when she'd been with the CDC, Back then, Marissa had begun to suspect a sinister force at work long before her colleagues did.

Despite setbacks, she clung to her beliefs, ultimately proving the existence of a cabal even more diabolic than she had ever imagined. Now, as then, she was beginning to think it was time to go with her instincts.

Even if she didn't have much more than a hunch that there was more to these events than met the eye, she had to dig deeper.

Impulsively she went back inside and called Robert back. She woke him a second time.

"I need you here, Robert," Marissa said.

"The more I think about-Wendy's death, the more I think it was caused deliberately."

"Please, Marissa. You're overreacting. You've had a tremendous shock. Shouldn't you just get on a plane and come home?"

"But I think I should stay."

"I cannot come to Australia," Robert said.

"I told you business is_" Even though she realized she was being unreasonable, Marissa hung up on him before he could finish his sentence. Then she realized there was something he could do. Snatching up the phone, she dialed Robert yet again.

"I'm glad you called back," Robert said.

"I was hoping you'd come to your senses."

"I want you to find out something for me," Marissa said, ignoring Robert's comments.

"I want to know if there is any business connection between the Women's Clinic in the States and Female Care Australia."

"I can check in the morning," Robert said.

"I want you to do it now," Marissa said. She knew Robert's computer was hooked up to several business data banks.

"If I do this," Robert said, "will you come home and stop asking me to come to Australia?"

"I'll stop asking you to come to Australia," Marissa said.

"Give me your number and I'll call you back."

Five minutes later Marissa's phone rang. Robert had been faster than she'd expected.

"You were right if you guessed they were associated," Robert said.

"Both the Women's Clinic, Inc." and Female Care Australia Limited are controlled by an Australian holding company by the name of Fertility, Limited. I found it out by reading the back page on a prospectus on the Women's Clinic."

"What are you doing with a prospectus on the Women's Clinic?" Marissa asked.

"I thought it was a private company."

"They floated a big stock offering a few years ago to finance their nationwide expansion," Robert explained.

"It's been a good stock. I've been very pleased with it."

"You own stock in Women's Clinic?" Marissa asked.

"Yes," Robert said.

"I have a significant position with both the Women's Clinic and FCA."

"You own stock in FCA as well?"

"Sure do," Robert said.

"I bought it on the Sydney Exchange."

"Sell it!" Marissa shouted.

Robert laughed.

"Now let's not confuse emotions with business," he said.

"I see both stocks splitting in the near future."

"I think there is something seriously wrong with these companies,"

Marissa said with vehemence.

"I don't know what it is they're up to, but I think it may be linked to these cases of TB salpingitis."

"Don't tell me you're back on that crusade," Robert whined "Just sell the stock," Marissa said.

"I'll take your recommendation under advisement," Robert said evasively.

Marissa slammed the phone down, cutting off Robert before he could say more.

Anger had now overcome to a large degree her sadness about Wendy. Although she thought that her hormone-induced hyper emotional state might have had something to do with her change in mood, she didn't care. Instead of giving in to depression, she opted for action. Picking up the phone, she called the Royal Flying Doctor service in Charleville.

"Yes," the woman at the other end of the line told her, "Dr.

Tristan Williams is with us, but he's out at isolated cattle stations at the moment. He won't be back for several days."

"Does he have a specific schedule?" Marissa asked.

"Indeed he does," the woman said.

"Unless there is an emergency.

Our doctors have a regular route whenever they leave for a loop of the outback."

"Could you tell me where he will be two days from now?"

Marissa asked. She thought that should give her enough time to get there no matter how far away it was.

"Hold the line," the woman said. She was gone for several minutes. When she came back on the line she said, "He'll be near 4 a town called Windorah. He's to make a call at the Wilmington Station."

"Does Windorah have a commercial airport?" Marissa asked.

The woman laughed.

"No, not quite," she said.

"In fact it doesn't even have a bitumen road."

Marissa next called the airport to see about connections to Charleville. With reservations made on an airline called Flight West, she quickly packed her bags and went down to the lobby.

After making arrangements for Wendy's bag to be brought to the hotel's storage room, she checked out.

During the short ride to the airport, she began to wonder about defying the police inspector's request to remain on Hamilton

Island. She wondered if security people at the airport might try to stop her. But there was no problem and she boarded the plane for Brisbane without any incident.

In Brisbane she had a short wait before she boarded a commuter plane with only twelve seats. At a little after nine in the evening, the plane lifted off the tarmac, and headed due west toward Charleville, a town situated on the edge of the broad expanse of the Australian outback.

While Marissa was flying over the Great Dividing Ran 9e, a series of mountains separating the narrow, lush coastline from the rest of Australia, Ned Kelly and Willy Tong climbed the stairs in the mostly darkened FCA clinic and headed for the deserted administration area. The door to Charles Lester's office was ajar. The two men walked in unannounced.

Charles looked up from a puddle of light emanating from his brass desk lamp. The shadows made his deep eye sockets appear blank like a man with no eyes. His mouth beneath his heavy mustache was clamped shut with the corners downturned.

Charles was not happy.

"Sit down!" he ordered.

Ned flopped casually into one of the chairs facing the desk while Willy leaned up against a bookcase.

"I just heard what happened on the evening news," Lester said.

"You've managed to make things worse. First, you only got rid of one of the women. The one you let get away is talking about her friend's death being deliberate because she saw you two blokes. The police, it seems, are investigating."

"How were we to know one of them would come out of the water while we were throwing in the chum?" Ned said.

"It was a bit of bad luck. Otherwise it would have worked. We tossed in enough bait to summon every shark from the entire Coral Sea."

"But eliminating one and raising suspicions is not what you were supposed to do," Lester snapped.

"Now it is imperative rather than merely advisable that this second woman be eliminated.

It said on the news that her name was Dr. Marissa Blumenthal-Buchanan."

"I know which one it is," Ned said.

"The sheila with the brown hair."

"You want us to go back to Hamilton Island and hit her?"

Willy asked.

"I want you to do whatever it takes," Lester said.

"What if she's already left the island?" Ned asked.

"I doubt she's left with an investigation underway," 1,ester said.

"But let's call the hotel. You said she was staying at the Hamilton Island Resort?"

"That's the one," Ned said.

Lester picked up his phone and, after obtaining the number, called the hotel. To his dismay he learned that Mrs. Buchanan had already checked out.

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."