come forward with any information they may have concerning Mr. Hambrick, who had no permission to be on the island.
There have been many rumors about why Mr. Hambrick was murdered. One NT politician has advanced the idea that Hambrick was one of the thousands of commercial and industrial spies working throughout Australia for Beijing and Moscow and that his murder was the work of foreign agents. The minister has submitted a letter to both the Chinese and Russian Consulate-Generals in Sydney demanding full disclosure.
Others in government and the media blame extreme elements of the conservation movement. Mr. Hambrick was a harsh critic of environmental activists and, in some quarters, that does for a motive. There have been numerous instances of ecotage in recent years, including the sugaring of trucks by groups opposed to logging, and damage and destruction to fishing boats and nets by groups opposed to the use of seines. Environmentalists counter that unsubstantiated claims of ecotage by industry officials and politicians are rubbish disseminated to incite violence against lawful protesters.
Dinah thought, the poor man’s murder has spawned a national guessing game. There were several other stories about the murder, one or two with photographs of Hambrick. He looked to be in the neighborhood of forty, with a pudgy face, a cumulus of pale, flyaway hair, and pronounced laugh lines around the mouth. Not the staid, censorious Brit she’d imagined.
She stood up and tossed the newspapers back into the dumpster. She was about to close the lid when she noticed a painted pole like the burial poles in Mack’s library. She pulled it out and turned it around and around in her hands. It looked as if it had been whittled by a novice and the painting was careless and only half-finished.
Chapter Thirteen
As the sun dipped behind the enclosing wall of trees, a caravan of dusty cars rolled up in front of the lodge. Dinah looked up from her sixth game of solitaire, which she’d laid out on an itsy-bitsy table on the itsy-bitsy front porch. Wendell, Neesha, the twins and the Aboriginal boy she’d seen lock-picking with Thad piled out of the first car. No doubt this was Tanya’s nephew, Victor. The kids’ hair was wet and the outline of their damp swimsuits showed under their clothes. Thad and K.D. shoved each other and traded insults. Each carried a shopping bag. Victor walked behind them cradling a bag emblazoned “Wizard of Oz Videotronix.” His euphoric smile proclaimed that he was now Podded up or otherwise on his way to becoming a typical adolescent cyborg. Tanya could blame Wen if Victor coveted more expensive toys in the future.
Neesha wore a beige linen pantsuit, an Hermes scarf tied under her chin, and huge, retro-chic white sunglasses. She had a sort of Jackie Kennedy-fleeing-the-paparazzi apprehensiveness about her.
Mack got out of the second car and called out to Victor to help him unload several sacks of groceries and boxes of wine. Victor’s smile drooped. He entrusted his prize to Thad and sulked off to do the servant thing as Neesha and the privileged twins continued into the house.
“What a retard,” sneered Thad, jostling Dinah out of his way. “Like a stupid camera phone is so cool it’s off the chain.”
Dinah sighed. Loathing Thad had been so satisfying before she found out his problems had a clinical cause. As she watched him flaunt his faux-faded, designer-ripped, Abercrombie-jeaned ass up the stairs, she decided that some prejudices were worth the extra guilt.
K.D. and Neesha jogged up onto the porch. Dinah held open the door and K.D. charged in toward the kitchen. Neesha tipped Dinah a small, automatic smile and hurried after K.D.
“Where’s Cantoo?” cried K.D. accusingly. An outbreak of frenetic yipping ensued. “Oh, no! How could you keep her penned up in there all day?”
Dinah was still standing against the open front door as Cantoo spurted outside and disappeared around the side of
There have been many rumors about why Mr. Hambrick was murdered. One NT politician has advanced the idea that Hambrick was one of the thousands of commercial and industrial spies working throughout Australia for Beijing and Moscow and that his murder was the work of foreign agents. The minister has submitted a letter to both the Chinese and Russian Consulate-Generals in Sydney demanding full disclosure.
Others in government and the media blame extreme elements of the conservation movement. Mr. Hambrick was a harsh critic of environmental activists and, in some quarters, that does for a motive. There have been numerous instances of ecotage in recent years, including the sugaring of trucks by groups opposed to logging, and damage and destruction to fishing boats and nets by groups opposed to the use of seines. Environmentalists counter that unsubstantiated claims of ecotage by industry officials and politicians are rubbish disseminated to incite violence against lawful protesters.
Dinah thought, the poor man’s murder has spawned a national guessing game. There were several other stories about the murder, one or two with photographs of Hambrick. He looked to be in the neighborhood of forty, with a pudgy face, a cumulus of pale, flyaway hair, and pronounced laugh lines around the mouth. Not the staid, censorious Brit she’d imagined.
She stood up and tossed the newspapers back into the dumpster. She was about to close the lid when she noticed a painted pole like the burial poles in Mack’s library. She pulled it out and turned it around and around in her hands. It looked as if it had been whittled by a novice and the painting was careless and only half-finished.
Chapter Thirteen
As the sun dipped behind the enclosing wall of trees, a caravan of dusty cars rolled up in front of the lodge. Dinah looked up from her sixth game of solitaire, which she’d laid out on an itsy-bitsy table on the itsy-bitsy front porch. Wendell, Neesha, the twins and the Aboriginal boy she’d seen lock-picking with Thad piled out of the first car. No doubt this was Tanya’s nephew, Victor. The kids’ hair was wet and the outline of their damp swimsuits showed under their clothes. Thad and K.D. shoved each other and traded insults. Each carried a shopping bag. Victor walked behind them cradling a bag emblazoned “Wizard of Oz Videotronix.” His euphoric smile proclaimed that he was now Podded up or otherwise on his way to becoming a typical adolescent cyborg. Tanya could blame Wen if Victor coveted more expensive toys in the future.
Neesha wore a beige linen pantsuit, an Hermes scarf tied under her chin, and huge, retro-chic white sunglasses. She had a sort of Jackie Kennedy-fleeing-the-paparazzi apprehensiveness about her.
Mack got out of the second car and called out to Victor to help him unload several sacks of groceries and boxes of wine. Victor’s smile drooped. He entrusted his prize to Thad and sulked off to do the servant thing as Neesha and the privileged twins continued into the house.
“What a retard,” sneered Thad, jostling Dinah out of his way. “Like a stupid camera phone is so cool it’s off the chain.”
Dinah sighed. Loathing Thad had been so satisfying before she found out his problems had a clinical cause. As she watched him flaunt his faux-faded, designer-ripped, Abercrombie-jeaned ass up the stairs, she decided that some prejudices were worth the extra guilt.
K.D. and Neesha jogged up onto the porch. Dinah held open the door and K.D. charged in toward the kitchen. Neesha tipped Dinah a small, automatic smile and hurried after K.D.
“Where’s Cantoo?” cried K.D. accusingly. An outbreak of frenetic yipping ensued. “Oh, no! How could you keep her penned up in there all day?”
Dinah was still standing against the open front door as Cantoo spurted outside and disappeared around the side of
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