Merriwarra nodded.
‘And you can trust the McGregors. Remember what they’ve done for our folk round here.’
‘That’s what Muddenbudden said.’
‘It’s all settled then?’
‘Suppose it is.’
Andrew held out his hand and Merriwarra shook it.
‘We better get away early then, what do you reckon? I’ll speak to the others,’ said Andrew, standing up.
During breakfast, Andrew outlined Merriwarra’s concerns and asked everyone to make a pledge to respect Aboriginal law and keep the cave site confidential. All agreed.
‘I can now tell you a little more about where we’re heading,’ said Andrew.
He unfolded a large map and, smoothing out the wrinkles, placed it on the table.
‘According to Merriwarra, the camp’s about here,’ he continued, stabbing his finger at a point on the map. ‘This ancient wilderness is of great spiritual significance to the Indigenous people living up here. The only access to the cave is through a deep gorge. It’s one of the remotest corners of the Kimberley – almost untouched. The terrain is very rugged at the best of times, but after the storm? Anything can happen. We have to accept the possibility that we might not get through. Fortunately for us, Merriwarra knows the way. We’ll follow the Drysdale River here until we find a crossing. We have to get to the other side, otherwise ...’ Andrew shrugged, and carefully folded the map along its well-worn creases.
After following the raging Drysdale River for several hours, Merriwarra found a rocky patch where the river had widened by breaking its banks. At this point the water was fairly shallow with a riverbed of solid rock, making it possible for the vehicles to cross.
Merriwarra sat next to Andrew in the lead vehicle, while Muddenbudden and Jack sat in the rear. Merriwarra seemed to know every bend in the river and every landmark along the way. Even the trees were etched into his subconscious like a tribal memory-map acquired over generations. The land was in his blood. ‘All going well, we should reach the camp before nightfall,’ he announced, sounding confident for the first time since leaving Never Never Downs.
Andrew nodded.
‘It could be tricky with all this water rushing into the gorge,’ continued Merriwarra. ‘If the women have gone into the cave to seek shelter from the storm, they could be trapped inside. It’s happened before ...’
‘What do you mean, trapped?’ asked Andrew.
‘The entry to the cave is deep down in the gorge. Below a rock shelf. Almost hidden and invisible from above. The cave itself is pretty big and has several upper levels and passages.’
‘So?’
‘If the water level has risen – as it often does after heavy rain – the entry could be under water.’
‘That’s all we need!’
‘When I left, they were still in the tents. But the storm was unbelievable that night ... I told them to move into the cave if things got rough. But, don’t worry,’ added Muddenbudden, noticing the concern on Jack’s face, ‘most of the inside of the cave is well above the water level. They’d all be safe in there.’
‘But trapped.’
‘Yes. For a while ...’
Andrew looked over his shoulder at Jack.
‘We should keep this to ourselves for the moment,’ said Jack. ‘No need to alarm the women. What do you think?’
Andrew nodded, grateful for the fact that the women were travelling with McGregor in the other vehicle.
‘I don’t like this,’ he mumbled, changing gears. ‘We’d better prepare for the worst.’
60
Broome Courthouse, 7 March
The arrival of the Wizard’s legal team caused quite a stir at the sleepy Broome courthouse. It was Sunday, and a special sitting had been convened to deal with the sensational case. The magistrate wasn’t used to senior counsel – with junior barrister and instructing solicitor in tow – flying in from faraway Sydney for a bail application. She was obviously impressed when Cyril Archibald QC swept into her court. It wasn’t often that one of Australia’s most eminent criminal lawyers appeared before her. The prosecutor, a young police sergeant, was no match for silver-tongued Archie, as he was known to his friends. Archie held the court’s attention with an iron grip of authority beyond challenge.
Portly, with thinning white hair neatly parted on the left, Archie looked impeccable in his crisp white shirt and pin-striped suit. Only his ruddy complexion and the little beads of perspiration glistening on his forehead hinted at the fact that he was struggling with the oppressive heat.
First, he demolished the prosecutor’s argument opposing bail with great eloquence and flair, and then mounted an irresistible plea in favour of bail. Forgotten were the facts – meekly presented by the prosecution – stating that the accused had been involved in an illegal bare-knuckle fight with one of the deceased at Fitzroy Crossing. Brushed aside was the fact that the accused had knocked his opponent unconscious and then carried him out of the ring the day before the hapless wretch was shot dead.
It didn’t seem to matter that the man in the dock was a serial offender with a criminal record that would have made the Kelly gang look like pathetic amateurs. No weight was attached to the fact that he had spent more than half his life behind bars and was the reputed leader of a notorious outlaw bikie gang suspected of being the largest suppliers of party drugs in the country. Archie’s word was gospel and, half an hour later, the Wizard was free.
Politely declining the magistrate’s invitation to morning tea, the eminent QC and his entourage caught a taxi back to the airport. His much relieved client, however, was quietly whisked away by one of his cohorts to meet the White Wolf.
‘I must apologise for the accommodation,’ said the Wizard, holding out his hand. ‘I’m sure you’re not used to staying in rundown country pubs.’
‘It’s safe and it’s practical,’ replied the White Wolf, shaking the Wizard’s hand. ‘That’s all that matters.’
‘Half the money has already been transferred into your account, as agreed,’ continued the Wizard, coming straight to the point that mattered most – money.
‘Broome – an exotic location for an assignment. Would you care to tell me who the target is?’
‘It’s a little unusual ...’ said the Wizard cautiously. He reached for the bottle on the table in front of him and poured himself a large whiskey. He knew the White Wolf didn’t drink.
‘I deal with the unusual every day, Eugene.’
‘I know, but you won’t like this one.’
‘Try me.’
‘The target is a young woman ...’
‘You know I don’t do women,’ said the White Wolf curtly.
‘But you owe me. And this is really important.’
‘That’s why I’m here. However, wasting women is bad luck.’
‘Leaving this one alive would be worse.’
‘For you?’
‘Yes. For me, and all the Wizards.’
‘Tell me about it.’
Holding nothing back, the Wizard told the White Wolf about Anna and the huge threat she would pose if she were to turn up alive. He mentioned Cassandra’s involvement and explained the way Jack had infiltrated the Wizards, and why. He also pointed out that the media interest would be frenzied, placing enormous pressure on the authorities to investigate what happened to Anna Popov.
‘You can see why I can’t take care of this myself. The Wizards can’t risk being linked to the girl in any way. I need an outsider to do this – clean and fast, without leaving any clues. I need someone like you.’
‘What about this Cassandra woman and the journalist? Aren’t they a threat as well?’
‘That’s all under control. We’ll take care of them ourselves. In fact, I have a little surprise in store for that cocky journo bastard,’ said the Wizard.
The White Wolf found himself in an awkward position. He didn’t like to be pressured, but the Wizard had cleverly manoeuvred him into a corner. It would be ver
y difficult to turn him down.
‘I want to think about it, Eugene,’ said the White Wolf.
‘Fair enough, but don’t take too long. There is one more thing I forgot to mention ...’ continued the Wizard, lowering his voice.
‘Oh?’
‘There’s a success fee. If Anna isn’t found, you get paid in full regardless. If she does surface and the hit is successful, I’ll double your fee, and we’re even.’
It was a shrewd offer. The White Wolf was finding it difficult to make ends meet in retirement. For one of the world’s most wanted assassins to stay out of his enemies’ reach, and under the radar of the law, was a costly business. He was always short of money. The Wizard knew a million US would go a long way, especially in Argentina.
‘All right, Eugene, I’ll do it, but strictly on my terms. I choose the time, the place and the method.’
‘You got it.’
‘Because there’s no pattern, this is a difficult target. In fact, there’s nothing to go by, nothing at all. We don’t even know if she’ll turn up. Everything will have to be improvised. Planning on the run is always risky. If, for some reason, things get too hot, I have the right to pull out and walk away. If that happens, you don’t owe me anything and we go our separate ways. Clear so far?’
‘Absolutely.’ The Wizard knew it was highly unlikely that the White Wolf would throw in the towel. Professional pride and the prospect of a million bucks would see to that.
‘I like clients like you, Eugene,’ said the White Wolf. ‘Ruthless, determined and flush with money. We both know exactly where we stand. It’s a winning combination, isn’t it?’
‘It is. You know why?’ said the Wizard.
‘Tell me.’
‘Because,’ he said, ‘we’re very much alike.’
‘Perhaps we are, Eugene. Except for the cash,’ added the White Wolf, laughing.
During the night, Jack’s house in Balmain was fire-bombed. Two Molotov cocktails were thrown through the windows – one from the back and one from the front. By the time the fire brigade arrived, the house had burnt to the ground.
61
Djanbinmarra Caves, 7 March, 2 p.m.
‘Not far now,’ said Merriwarra. He pointed to an escarpment rising out of the haze. ‘Just over there.’
‘Thank God for that,’ said Jack, rubbing his aching neck. ‘That last creek crossing was wild – I didn’t think we were going to make it.’
‘Stop whingeing, mate, it wasn’t that bad,’ said Will. ‘You want scary? Remember those fires in 2001.’
‘You’re right,’ said Jack, remembering the bush fires in the Blue Mountains they had fought as volunteers. ‘If it hadn’t been for that waterfall, I don’t think we’d be here.’
‘You’re right. That was bloody terrifying.’
‘We had to leave our truck and jump, remember?’
There wasn’t a hint of a track left to follow, for the final stretch of their journey. They had to pick their way through rough open country. If it hadn’t been for Merriwarra’s extraordinary bush skills and familiarity with the terrain, they would have lost their way hours ago or, worse still, lost their vehicles.
Perched on an exposed plateau above a deep gorge, Merriwarra’s camp had taken the full brunt of Cyclone Leopold’s fury two days before. When he got out of the car and looked around, the first thing Jack noticed was the silence. The only evidence of human activity left behind after the destruction was a few charred logs, a couple of dented pots where the cooking fire used to burn, and a cast iron pan without a handle.
Small strips of canvas, caught in the twisted branches of a bush which had somehow escaped the wrath of the storm, moved slowly in the breeze. All the other vegetation had been levelled and shredded. Gone were the tents, the sleeping gear, and all the clothes. The large kitchen table and chairs Merriwarra had constructed out of tree branches and slabs of rough-sawn timber had disappeared. There was nothing left of the little improvised studio – a lean-to with a tarpaulin draped over it as protection from the sun – except two shattered terracotta paint pots stuck in a dry pool of ochre-yellow mess.
Jack followed Merriwarra to the edge of the gorge. ‘This isn’t looking good,’ he said. ‘Where did it all go?’
‘Over the side, I reckon,’ replied Merriwarra, pointing down into the narrow gorge. Like steam escaping from a devil’s kitchen, plumes of spray rose slowly from the white water foaming angrily at the bottom.
‘And the women?’ asked Andrew.
‘Down there as well, but inside the cave.’ Merriwarra took off his hat and scratched his head. It was the only sign of his unease. ‘Safe, I hope,’ he added quietly.
Jack pointed to McGregor’s Land Rover pulling up behind them. ‘You better explain that to the others,’ he said. ‘Here they come now.’
Looking pale and gripped by confusion and fear, the countess was surveying the devastation around her. The little that remained conjured up images of nature at its most brutal: a tempest blindly destroying everything in its path. It was difficult to imagine how anyone could have survived that storm out in the open.
Cassandra reached for the countess’s hand. ‘She’s alive – I can feel it. And close by,’ she whispered, reassuringly squeezing the distressed woman’s hand.
The countess didn’t appear to have heard her. She kept staring vacantly at something only she could see, dark thoughts racing through her tortured mind.
‘I have a bad feeling about this,’ said Rebecca, taking Jack aside. ‘What do you think?’
‘I’ll go down with Will for a rekky.’
‘A what?’
‘A little reconnaissance.’
‘Be careful.’
Jandamarra
I had no idea that being a restless spirit could be so difficult. Straddling two worlds isn’t easy, but when I had to convince those terrified women to leave their camp during a cyclone and find shelter in a cave that was so difficult to reach ... that one almost ended in failure. The women waited until it was almost too late, couldn’t make up their mind. Instead of following Merriwarra’s instructions, they huddled together in a corner of the tent. I could see what was about to happen so I had to intervene: moments before disaster struck, I showed myself.
Apart from dreams, there is another way a spirit can reach the living: through visual contact. With the storm raging outside and the tent about to be blown away, I materialised as a hazy, nebulous image, glowing faintly in the dark. As this was the first time I had attempted this, I was unsure of its effect. The women began to scream. I had to use all of my ingenuity to calm them. At first, I looked disapprovingly at Mayannie lying on the ground and shook my head. Then I conjured up images of the cave and, floating through the tent, pointed towards the gorge.
Directed by Merriwarra and Andrew from above, Jack and Will climbed down into the gorge to investigate. The narrow passage was flanked by soaring cliffs on each side and the noise of the wild, rushing water was deafening. The water level had fallen substantially since the storm had passed, but the entry to the cave was still under water. They could just see the mouth of the cave – dark and threatening, like the gaping jaws of a basilisk – a couple of feet below the foaming surface. With only a few hours of daylight left, time was running out. Jack stared down into the water.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ said Will.
‘With a harness holding me against the current, I could give it a go.’
‘What, diving down into the cave?’
‘Yes, it’s the only way in. According to Merriwarra, once you’re inside, the cave opens up straight away and rises steeply at the entrance. I wouldn’t be under water for more than a couple of metres before I resurface on the inside. If not, I turn around and come back.’
‘I don’t know, Jack ... The current’s very strong,’ said Will.
‘I know. But with a harness ... I’m a strong swimmer.’
‘It’s your call. Or we could just wait until the morning and see
if the water level falls further ...’
‘What if it doesn’t and the women are trapped in there? You heard what he said about Mayannie. She may not have time to wait.’
‘Jack, think it through. What if you do get in? What then? You can’t bring them out this way.’
‘That’s true, but at least we know where we stand, and we’re doing something. We’ve come too far to stop now,’ said Jack watching the rushing water draw him irresistibly closer.
‘And don’t forget the galleries Merriwarra mentioned. They could be connected to the caves somewhere higher up in the gorge. Who knows ...’ continued Jack, forever the optimist.
‘Another way out perhaps?’
‘Could be. Never say never. Come on, let’s get some rope.’
Despite Jack’s infectious optimism, Will felt uneasy. As a seasoned volunteer fire fighter, he was used to taking risks and these two mates had been in tricky situations before. Yet, somehow, this was different.
Will wanted to stop his friend, but logic told him that it would be futile to even try. Though he couldn’t dismiss the haunting premonition, he followed Jack reluctantly up the cliff and back to the cars.
Cassandra watched the two men climb out of the gorge. When she looked at Will, she saw something. It was an aura she had come across before. He’s in serious danger, she thought, limping over to him. ‘I don’t think you should do this,’ she said to Will.
Will shrugged. ‘Try to tell him that,’ he said, pointing to Jack.
Cassandra nodded. Certain situations had an unstoppable momentum. And Jack was determined to give it a go; nothing would stop him from trying.
She also knew that the bond of friendship between Will and Jack was unbreakable. Will would stand by his friend no matter what, even if common sense and reason strongly suggested the opposite.
Turning away from Will, Cassandra looked at Rebecca, staring down into the gorge. ‘You can sense it too, can’t you?’ she said.
Rebecca looked up. She’s reading my thoughts again, she marvelled. ‘Yes I can,’ she said. ‘We have to warn them.’
The Disappearance of Anna Popov Page 27