An English Visitor.
Thriller, Suspense and Fiction.
By Graham Wilson
Chapter 1
Prologue – The Watcher
He stands apart, part hidden by the foliage of a tree. He watches her! He returned to Cairns, landing early this morning, after tracking down a man and taking him far into the Arabian desert. This was a man whose end came there, a fitting end. What little remains of him now, after the birds and jackals have finished their pickings, will be bleached into a white colour, a matching shade with the white sands, soon to be covered and hidden from sight within the ever shifting dunes. He feels no remorse, only satisfaction at what he has done. Now he is back in his home, this vast empty sweep of his own, familiar land. It is mostly a harsh land, but with its odd fingers of civilisation like that here, a tourist mecca on the beach. It is a place of visitors, so very many visitors, many beautiful. He has known and sampled others alike to this one. Some have gone on their way; some have never left this land but become a permanent part of it, for some it was due to his actions. He feels some regret at their passing, but it now feels separated from him by layers of far distance, the distances of time and loss and, moving beyond that, the distance of new experience. And now he desires another. He has just seen her, right now, standing on the beach. She appears like some he has known before, breathtaking in her beauty and naivety. He senses a wanton abandon in her as he gazes, distant through the tree. He sees her dipping toes in wavelets, dark hair flowing back over and behind her arched body, like a Greek goddess. He senses she is ripe for the taking; that she will come willingly with him if he but asks, hungry for other experiences and adventure. He must be more careful this time, lest some new bad thing happens to this one. He feels she is precious and breakable.
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