The Disappearance of Anna Popov

by Gabriel Farago

  Cassandra shook her head sadly. ‘They won’t listen,’ she said.

  As she stared back down into the foaming gorge, Rebecca saw herself as a little girl standing in front of her father the day her brother died, and her life changed. ‘Don’t let him go up on the roof, Daddy,’ she heard herself say over and over.

  ‘They didn’t listen then,’ said Cassandra, reaching for Rebecca’s hand. ‘And they won’t listen now. Certain things cannot be changed.’

  Rebecca realised, with a growing dread, that her friend was right.

  62

  Djanbinmarra Caves, 7 March, 4 p.m.

  Jack adjusted the rope wound tightly around his waist and chest like a python embracing its prey, and carefully balanced on a rock just above the submerged entry to the cave. The rope was anchored around a tree stump a few yards upstream and held by Will and Andrew. It was supposed to act as a harness and stop Jack from being swept past the entry. Satisfied, Jack looked up and waved to the women watching anxiously from above. Then he turned around, gave Will a thumbs-up and jumped in.

  ‘God be with you,’ whispered the countess, her heart racing. She lifted the small crucifix hanging around her neck to her lips and began to pray.

  With a few powerful strokes Jack propelled himself through the narrow tunnel under water and resurfaced on the inside. What only took seconds seemed an eternity.

  The large entry chamber was empty, the rushing water thundering past on the outside the only sound. A shaft of light penetrated the darkness from above, like a finger of hope reaching down into the abyss. Jack slipped off the harness, secured it under a large stone and reached for his lifeline.

  ‘Did you feel that?’ asked Will. ‘Three tugs. He’s through!’

  ‘I certainly hope so,’ said Andrew. ‘No one can stay under water that long.’

  ‘What do we do now?’

  ‘We wait.’

  Mayannie was slipping away. With her emaciated body wracked by fever and bathed in sweat, she shivered like a terrified child facing punishment.

  The two elderly Aboriginal women huddled around the small fire were expecting a visit from death, the ultimate master. To protect them from the storm, the friendly spirit had guided them to safety. However, they knew that friendly spirits had no power over death: the ancient rock art reminded them of the law. To cope with their fear, they reached far back into tribal memory, closed their eyes and began to chant.

  It didn’t take Jack long to find the women. By following the shaft of light as he climbed into the upper chambers, he avoided the many dead-ends and dangerous tunnels fanning out in all directions. Soon he could hear chanting and smell smoke, the shadows dancing along the walls showing him the way to the fire.

  The old woman holding Mayannie’s limp hand opened her eyes and screamed. Death wasn’t supposed to look like that: a white man, stripped down to his shorts, dripping wet and speaking English.

  ‘Don’t be afraid,’ said Jack, holding up his hands reassuringly. ‘Merriwarra sent me. I’ve come to help.’

  By speaking softly and repeating Merriwarra’s name, he managed to calm the terrified woman.

  ‘How is she?’ asked Jack.

  The old woman by the fire shook her head. Wrapped tightly in an old blanket, Mayannie looked like a corpse. Her eyes were closed and her head was resting in the old woman’s lap.

  ‘Is she alive?’ he whispered, coming closer. There was no reply.

  Expecting the worst, Jack crouched down and reached for Mayannie’s wrist. At first, he felt nothing, the tense moment almost getting the better of him. Then he felt it: a pulse – weak – yet undeniably there.

  My God, she’s alive, he thought, but only just.

  The gallery where the women were huddled around the fire had an opening to the gorge, like a large window set into the rock by giants, letting out smoke, and letting in light and air. Jack crawled to the very edge and looked up. He could just see the stump of a boab tree on top of the plateau some 20 metres above him, illuminated by the last rays of the setting sun. But the vertical rock face was so treacherous and steep that not even a lizard could have found a foothold. As an alternative entry to or exit from the cave, it appeared useless. Below him, the dark waters of the swollen creek thundered through the narrow gorge like an angry beast waiting to devour anything foolish enough to get in its way.

  Jack considered his options: to take Mayannie out through the water was impossible. To wait for the waters to recede wasn’t a solution either – she would be dead well before then. Remembering a similar situation in a cave in Ethiopia two years before, Jack made up his mind. There’s only one way to do this, he thought. Let’s hope we’ve got enough rope.

  ‘He’s coming back!’ shouted Will, feeling the rope move in his hand. Moments later, Jack’s head appeared in the foaming water above the cave entry. Pulling him carefully against the current towards them, Andrew and Will reeled him in like a prized catch.

  ‘You found them?’ asked Merriwarra, helping Jack out of the water.

  ‘Yes. But we’ve got to hurry,’ replied Jack, trying to catch his breath.

  ‘Mayannie?’

  ‘Alive, but in a bad way.’ Merriwarra shook his head sadly. ‘We’ve got to get her out now or ...’

  ‘Any ideas?’ asked Will.

  Jack looked at him, the beginnings of a smile creasing the corners of his mouth. ‘There’s another way in, but it’s a little tricky.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Let’s climb up to the top and I’ll show you.’

  Cassandra stood on a rock ledge high above the gorge and watched Jack being dragged out of the torrent by Merriwarra. She admired Jack’s courage and determination. Certain people thrive on danger and adversity – Jack was one of those. Cassandra knew he would never give up. Unlike the countess standing next to her, Cassandra felt calm. She knew that Mayannie was about to be rescued and would survive. The Tarot had told her so. The real danger, however, was lurking somewhere else.

  Cassandra felt a pang of envy. For the countess, the ordeal was about to end. Cassandra’s own journey, however, was uncertain, and so was her son’s fate. The more she had tried to see what lay ahead, the murkier things had become. The messages were unclear and sometimes conflicting. The Tarot was never wrong. But those wishing to interpret its messages, when clouded by emotion, often fell into error.

  Dripping wet and panting, but feeling elated, Jack reached the top and sat down on a rock to catch his breath. Anxious to get to him before the countess could overwhelm him with questions, Rebecca hurried over to Jack with a towel.

  ‘Thank God you’re all right,’ she said, handing him the towel. ‘Did you find her?’

  Jack nodded.

  ‘Are you sure it’s Anna?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Will she make it?’

  ‘I hope so, but ...’

  ‘You have to tell Katerina ...’

  Jack walked over to the countess. Too afraid to ask the obvious question, she just looked at him, pain and anguish clouding her eyes.

  ‘Anna’s down there. She’s alive,’ announced Jack, ‘but we must hurry.’

  ‘Thank you, Lord,’ said the countess, tears streaming down her pale face. ‘She’s here? How? Is she ill? Tell me ... please ...’

  ‘There’s only one way to get her out,’ said Jack holding up his hand. He pointed over his shoulder towards the gorge. ‘I’ll climb down into the cave from here and bring her up. Now – before it gets dark.’

  ‘And how exactly do you propose to do that?’ asked Rebecca, worried.

  ‘Will and I have done plenty of abseiling and rescues together during our bush fire days. I think I can do it.’

  ‘But nothing quite like this,’ interrupted Will, shaking his head.

  ‘It’s worth a go. Get the Land Rover. We’ll attach a rope to the winch and I’ll go down.’

  ‘And then what?’ asked Will.

  ‘I’ll improvise. Let’s get cracking!’

&nbs
p; Rebecca hurried over to Cassandra. ‘This is crazy! We have to do something,’ she said.

  ‘There’s nothing we can do,’ said Cassandra. ‘You know that.’

  The countess – eyes closed – had fallen to her knees and was praying, her faith giving her strength to face the terrible twins: uncertainty and waiting.

  ‘Thank Christ we’ve got enough rope,’ said Jack, preparing himself for the descent.

  ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ said Andrew.

  ‘If we don’t get her out now, it’s all over. She’ll be dead by the morning. Will, steady the rope.’ Looking over his shoulder, Jack pinpointed the cave ‘window’ and, giving his friend the thumbs up, eased himself over the edge.

  This time the two old Aboriginal women were certain that death had finally come to claim Mayannie. Terrified, they watched a dark shape materialise in the narrow opening, blotting out the fading light. Catching his breath, Jack secured the rope and crawled into the cave.

  ‘It’s me again,’ he said softly, trying to calm them. ‘I need your help. We have to get Mayannie into this.’

  Jack pointed to the improvised rope harness strapped to his back. ‘I’ll take her up with me. It’s her only chance. Here – help me lift her up. I’ll show you what to do.’

  ‘What about the ...?’ asked one of the women, pointing to the little bundle in her arms.

  ‘I’ll come back for it later.’

  The two women lifted Mayannie’s limp body off the floor, and with Jack’s help, strapped her tightly to his back. Jack went down on his knees and, moving slowly forward on all fours, crawled back to the edge.

  Jesus, this won’t be easy, he thought, looking up. At least she doesn’t know what’s going on.

  ‘There he is,’ shouted Will, pointing down into the gorge. ‘Get ready, fellas!’

  Jack checked the rope wound around his waist, gave it a tug, and then slowly began his ascent.

  ‘Steady, on,’ shouted Will, signalling to McGregor operating the noisy winch behind him. ‘He’s coming up.’ In the approaching darkness, Jack looked like some giant hump-backed beetle crawling up the cliff.

  Mayannie had her eyes closed, her bare feet protruding like an extra pair of skinny beetle legs trying in vain to get a foothold on the treacherous rock.

  The countess, who had stopped praying, stared down into the gorge. Cassandra put her arm around her and pulled her gently away from the edge.

  ‘Don’t look down,’ she said, comforting the distressed woman.

  ‘I can’t take this much longer,’ sobbed the countess, covering her face with her hands.

  ‘Keep it steady!’ shouted Andrew to McGregor.

  ‘He’s almost up,’ said Merriwarra, the rope cutting into the burning palms of his hands.

  ‘Not much further, mate! Come on!’ yelled Will, leaning over the edge.

  Ignoring the excruciating pain in his thighs and calves, Jack focused on keeping his balance. With Mayannie’s limp body strapped to his back, it wasn’t easy. He knew that one wrong step could spell disaster. He also knew that the last step was always the hardest.

  ‘Hang in there,’ Will shouted, grabbing hold of Jack’s harness from above to steady him. ‘You’re almost there.’

  Jack made the mistake of looking up. He lost his footing and began to slide sideways.

  ‘Pull him up. Now!’ shouted Will, grabbing for the rope. Merriwarra held his breath and, giving it all they had, they hauled Jack over the edge.

  Bruised and bleeding, Jack lay on his stomach, panting. ‘Mayannie?’ he whispered.

  ‘Safe,’ said Rebecca, kneeling down beside him. ‘You made it, Jack. Thank God!’

  Too exhausted to speak, Jack turned his head a little, looked at her and smiled. It was a smile Rebecca would never forget; a fleeting glimpse into Jack’s soul. Bending down until her lips touched his face, Rebecca whispered, ‘You’re quite a guy, Jack Rogan,’ and kissed him tenderly on the cheek.

  63

  Djambinmarra Caves, 7 March, 6 p.m.

  Will and Andrew untied the harness strapped to Jack’s back, and carefully placed Mayannie on a blanket. Her eyes were open, her stare vacant, the tiny beads of perspiration glistening on her forehead the only sign of a raging fever.

  ‘Come,’ said Cassandra, reaching for the countess’ hand, ‘she’s waiting for you.’ Walking slowly towards the dark shape lying motionless on the ground, half a lifetime flashed past in the countess’ tortured mind. First, there was Zoltan – Anna’s father – forever young and full of innocent excitement the day she told him that she was pregnant. Then Nikolai floated into view, reassuringly holding her hand in the Paris hospital the day Anna was born. With each step, a new precious memory – carefully tucked away for years – emerged with alarming clarity. ‘Dear God, can this really be Anna?’ she asked, barely able to speak. It sounded more like a prayer than a question. ‘I’m so afraid; what if ...’ Cassandra just squeezed her hand without saying anything and gently pushed her forward.

  First, the countess just stared at the bare feet in front of her and then, lifting her gaze, looked at the hands. Then, coming slowly closer, she bent down and let her eyes wander until they came to rest on the face. The long blonde hair she remembered so well was gone. Instead, short hair, closely cropped and bleached almost white by the harsh Outback sun, framed a tanned face. The prominent features, however, were unmistakable.

  ‘Anna?’ whispered the countess, falling to her knees. She stretched out her hand to touch the face in front of her but stopped in midair, afraid it would disappear if she were to make contact. ‘My child, can you hear me?’ she asked in French. There was no response. The half-closed eyes kept staring straight ahead, the expression on the face unchanged.

  The countess reached for her daughter’s hand, lifted it to her lips and kissed it. The little hand felt limp and clammy.

  Anna hadn’t heard French spoken in years. Slowly, her eyes flickered wide open. Trying to focus on the face that hovered above her, she felt as if she was falling backwards through cottonwool, the comforting voice fading. Then suddenly, the face materialised again out of the fog.

  ‘Mama?’ she whispered, her voice barely audible.

  ‘Oh yes, my darling,’ replied the countess, taking her daughter into her arms.

  ‘Where’s Billy?’ asked Anna.

  ‘Hush, hush ... you’re safe now ...’

  The countess didn’t understand the question, but Cassandra did.

  ‘Jack! What on earth are you doing?’ asked Rebecca.

  ‘I’m going back down.’

  ‘Are you out of your mind?’

  ‘This is the second part of the rescue.’

  Jack put on a backpack and wound the rope around his waist. ‘Okay, guys – lower me down.’

  ‘Will, do something! He’s lost his marbles.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Will said, ‘he has to go.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To bring someone else up ...’

  ‘I thought the others were okay and could wait ... Anna needs help. Now!’

  ‘No. This can’t wait,’ interrupted Cassandra.

  ‘You’re all in on this,’ complained Rebecca, turning to Will.

  ‘Don’t worry. He can do it,’ he said.

  Rebecca spun around. ‘Jack? What’s going on?’ she demanded, fear clawing at her throat.

  But he had already disappeared over the edge.

  Jack remembered the footholds and the tricky bits from his first descent and, retracing his steps, made it quickly to the bottom. By the time he crawled back into the cave it was almost dark. Strapping the tiny sleeping baby into the backpack was easy. Within minutes, Jack was ready to go back up.

  ‘I can see him. He’s coming,’ said Will raising his arm. McGregor engaged the winch.

  It’s always easier the second time, thought Jack, feeling elated about Anna’s rescue, the adrenalin pumping through his aching muscles masking exhaustion and fatigue. However, what he di
dn’t take into account was the approaching darkness. Instead of going straight up as he had done the first time, he lost concentration and inadvertently moved a couple of metres to the left.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ shouted Will, looking over the edge. ‘Jack, you’re going the wrong way!’

  With the wild water thundering through the gorge below him, Jack couldn’t hear the warning. By now it was virtually dark. Long shadows crept along the cliff face like claws of a hungry vulture searching for prey, and Jack didn’t notice the overhanging rock shelf above him. As he approached the protruding rock from below, he disappeared from view.

  ‘Jesus, I can’t see him anymore!’ shouted Will. ‘Stop the winch!’ McGregor didn’t hear him and the winch kept going, pulling Jack towards the overhang. Jack lost his footing and became airborne, the sharp edge of the rock above him cutting into the taut rope. Andrew ran back to McGregor and stopped the winch, seconds before the rope would have snapped.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Rebecca running across to Will. Leaving the countess with Anna, Cassandra limped after her.

  ‘I don’t know! I can’t see him!’ said Will. ‘He must be stuck.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Just down there, below that rock.’

  ‘Can’t we just pull him up?’

  ‘No way! Far too dangerous.’

  ‘What now?’

  ‘I’m going down to have a look,’ said Will, reaching for another rope they had discarded before. The thin rope was too short, and Will had to extend it with another bit he got out of the Land Rover. If this knot doesn’t hold, I’m buggered, he thought, checking the knot for the third time, just to make sure it was safe.

  Peering over the edge, Cassandra recognised the signs only too well.

  What she had sensed earlier was actually taking shape. The different threads of fate were coming together with frightening speed. Will would risk his life for his friend without blinking an eye. Rebecca could feel it too as she watched Will prepare the flimsy rope.

  ‘You’re going down with this?’ she asked, looking alarmed.

  ‘It’s all we’ve got.’