‘Anna’s been found. She’s alive,’ said Cassandra calmly.
‘What?’ roared the Wizard, almost overbalancing in his chair.
Mesmerised, the others in the crypt looked on in silence.
‘Where is she?’
‘Broome hospital, recovering.’
‘Has she spoken to the coppers?’
‘Not so fast, Eugene. It’s my turn to ask the questions.’
‘What do you mean?’ barked the Wizard.
‘You claim that Tristan has come out of the coma. I don’t believe you. There’s one easy way to clear this up: let me speak to him, now. If he’s conscious, I’ll tell you all you want to know ...’
‘You’re in no position to make demands,’ snapped the Wizard.
‘You forget who you are talking to, Eugene,’ said Cassandra. ‘I know you ...’
‘Now you listen to me!’ roared the Wizard.
‘The boy is a vegetable,’ interrupted Cassandra. ‘We both know it, and you can’t hurt a vegetable. So what’ll it be? Can I talk to him?’
‘I’ll rip him apart with my bare hands, you hear? Is that what you want?’
‘I’ll take this as a refusal, then. I’m not surprised,’ replied Cassandra calmly. ‘I’ve seen it all – the Tarot never lies. Now you listen to me, Eugene. I’ve consulted the cards ... you’re in big trouble. Your end is near, and it’s more horrible than even you could possibly imagine. You can’t cheat fate – you know that. You can’t hurt me anymore, but I can hurt you, and I will. You can count on that.’
The line went dead. For an instant, the Wizard stared into space, a ripple of fear teasing his neck.
‘Fucking bitch!’ he shouted, slamming down the phone.
‘We’ve got a problem, guys, but I already have the answer,’ he said, rubbing the angry looking scar on his face. ‘Anna’s back, but not for long. Her return will be short-lived.’
The Wizard picked up the phone, put it on speaker and dialled. He didn’t have to wait long before his call was answered.
‘Hello,’ said a male voice on the other end.
‘It’s me,’ said the Wizard. ‘She’s in Broome hospital ...’
‘You’re a lucky man, Eugene,’ replied the White Wolf.
‘Why’s that?’
‘I like hospitals. I’ve used them before. Bodies and hospitals are a good fit, don’t you think?’
‘Did you hear that, guys?’ asked the Wizard, roaring with laughter. ‘Hospitals and bodies are a good fit. Remember that!’
Professor Popov was asleep in his Rome hotel room when his mobile rang. It was two in the morning. Reaching for his glasses, he sat up in bed, fumbled clumsily with the phone and glanced at the screen. The name blinking at him in the dark was ‘Katerina’. A call from his former wife at this time of the night was most unusual. This must be important, he thought, instantly awake. Popov pressed the answer button.
‘Hello Katty,’ he said, switching on the light. ‘What ...’
‘Anna is alive!’ interrupted the countess, her voice sounding distant and hollow.
‘What did you just say?’ asked Popov after a while, not trusting his ears.
‘She’s alive, Nikki,’ sobbed the countess. ‘We found her.’
‘Where?’ he asked, choking with emotion.
‘In the Kimberley wilderness right here in Australia. She was living with an Aboriginal tribe ...’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘How is she?’
‘She’s just come out of intensive care, but they say she’ll make it.’
‘Oh my God!’ A thousand questions raced through Popov’s mind. ‘But what about ...’
‘Here comes the doctor now, I’ve got to go,’ the countess cut him short.
‘Where are you?’
‘Broome.’
‘I’ll be on the first plane ...’
‘Please hurry!’
66
Broome, 8 March
What had kept the White Wolf a step ahead of the law all these years and out of his enemies’ reach was the fact that he was a master tactician first, an assassin second. As usual, information and timing held the key. Within half an hour of speaking to the Wizard, the White Wolf had established that Zac knew the manager of the cleaning company retained by the hospital. In the drug business, cleaners were valuable contacts.
They were an invisible grey army with ready access to places others could only dream about. No one paid attention to cleaners – they were almost part of the furniture. They could appear suddenly in unexpected places like toilets, kitchens, boardrooms or hospital corridors without arousing suspicion, and without being questioned.
Half an hour later, the White Wolf had a uniform – compliments of the cleaning company – and was talking to a trusted employee familiar with the layout of the hospital. Encouraged by the $500 slipped into his pocket by Zac, the man checked with one of his colleagues who was still on duty at the hospital. He was able to confirm that only one young woman had been admitted into Emergency that morning and had just come out of Intensive Care. He promised to ring back shortly with a room number and a name. The White Wolf had everything he needed. He went through his mental checklist and returned to his room to prepare for the hit.
Countess Kuragin was asleep in a chair next to her daughter’s hospital bed. The baby, also asleep, was in a bassinet beside her. Andrew, Rebecca and Jack had gone back to the police station. Careful not to wake the countess, Cassandra tiptoed into the darkened room and pulled up a chair well away from the bed. Anna had her eyes closed and was resting. She had lost a lot of blood giving birth in the desert, and had developed an infection. However, after an urgent blood transfusion and antibiotics, her condition had stabilised. The prognosis was good.
According to the physician in charge, youth and a strong constitution would see her through.
As she listened to the rhythm of the countess’ deep breathing, Cassandra reflected on her conversation with the Wizard. In the quiet of the room, nagging doubts were beginning to chip away at her resolve.
She had called the Wizard’s bluff and taken a huge gamble with her son’s life. Had she made the right decision? She had hoped to protect her son’s life by making it appear worthless. How will Eugene react? she asked herself over and over. Surely he would now turn to the real threat – Anna. He would try to kill Anna, she was sure of it. But when and how? He would act quickly to silence her before she could say too much. The next twenty-four hours were critical – Anna had to be protected at all costs.
Cassandra covered her face with her hands. I mustn’t lose sight of the real reason I joined the Wizards of Oz, she reminded herself. He must be avenged before he can rest. I owe him that. He was my blood ... Cassandra looked at Anna lying motionless in her bed. Anna had merely been the way in, and Tristan an unexpected casualty. I used them both to get to the Wizard. Now I must save them both from him before it’s too late.
To calm herself, Cassandra decided to consult the cards one more time.
Jandamarra
Just when I thought that we’d finally done it, Ellemarra, my retired spirit guide, brought us a message. He told us that one last hurdle remained before we could finally join our ancestors. Despite all we had done, Anna wasn’t safe after all.
There are many shades of bad when it comes to character, but true evil is rare. However, what Pigeon and I were about to encounter was not only evil, but wickedness of a special kind ...
Instead of finding comfort from delving into the familiar realm of the Tarot, Cassandra was getting more and more agitated. It seemed that each card wanted to tell her something important. The Hermit, The Emperor, The Magician, even The Fool wanted to speak to her. But she wasn’t in the right frame of mind, and the messages weren’t getting through. Frustrated, Cassandra pushed the cards aside. Then she remembered something else. When the cards fail you, turn to the numbers, she heard her mother whisper from afar. Numbers never lie.
/>
The Fibonacci Sequence, of course! she thought. Why didn’t I think of this before?
Cassandra closed her eyes and listened. She could hear her mother, a psychic like herself, and respected healer, explain the mystery of Fibonacci’s numbers to her:
‘Fibonacci was a genius. Let me tell you about him. He came up with a simple concept of elegant mathematical beauty; the Fibonacci Sequence. He published a book in 1202 AD under his real name – Leonardo of Pisa; it’s all in there. However, the idea itself is much older. It goes back to Sanskrit writings. This is how it works:
The sequence begins with a simple addition: 0 + 1. Each following number is the sum of the previous two: 0 + 1 = 1; 1 + 1 = 2; 1 + 2 = 3; 2 + 3 = 5, and so on – see? The reason Fibonacci has become so popular today, is a surprising discovery: Nature is full of examples following his numbers. Isn’t it wonderful? Don’t you just love him!’
Cassandra opened her eyes. Remembering her mother’s passionate explanation brought a smile to her face. She took a piece of paper and a pen out of her handbag and drew a line down the middle of the page. In the left column she wrote the numbers 1, 2, 3, 5, 8 – the first five numbers of the Fibonacci sequence. In the right column, next to the numbers, she wrote names.
1 Cassandra
2 Cassandra + Pigeon
3 Cassandra + Pigeon + Jack
5 Cassandra + Pigeon + Jack + Will + Rebecca
Cassandra paused, and then added Andrew’s name. Six isn’t part of the sequence, she thought. But when she crossed out Will’s name, the number was back to five. Will’s death had restored the balance. Then the countess joined us, bringing the number back up to six, Cassandra reminded herself. One too many! Anna and Billy didn’t count. They weren’t part of this equation. Someone will be removed to restore the balance, she thought, the realisation sending icy shivers racing down her spine. If it can’t be Anna, then who?
Pigeon
Jandamarra made it clear that it was now up to me to protect Anna from the Wizard’s fury. It could be my last chance to get even with the monster – from beyond the grave, he said. Perhaps I could still fulfil the promise I made in the cemetery and make my mother proud?
67
Broome Hospital, 8 March
‘This is how we’ll do it,’ said the White Wolf.
Dressed in shorts, sandals and a tee-shirt, he looked like any other tourist visiting Broome. The uniform from the cleaning company was in his backpack, with the syringe and the precious poison safely tucked into a side pocket.
‘Nugget here will drive me to the hospital. He’ll say that he saw me collapse on the footpath just as he was driving past.’ The White Wolf paused and polished his sunglasses.
‘Then what?’ asked Nugget, Zac’s trusted foot soldier, not too pleased with his role.
‘You’ll tell them that you stopped to render assistance. Suspecting a heart attack, you decided to drive me straight to hospital rather than wait for an ambulance. Plausible and simple. The doctors will even commend you for this – you’ll see.’
‘And then?’ asked Zac.
‘He will leave me at casualty and wait in the carpark. The rest is up to me.’
‘Is that all?’ asked Nugget.
‘Yes,’ said the White Wolf, putting on his straw hat and sunglasses. ‘Let’s do it.’
It all went like clockwork. Within minutes, the White Wolf was inside the hospital. A car crash had kept Emergency quite busy that morning and after a brief initial examination which, not surprisingly, didn’t reveal anything serious, he was placed under observation and told to wait. It was then that he made his move.
First, he went into the toilet and changed into the uniform. He stuffed his clothes into the backpack and left it out of sight on top of the cistern in the cubicle. The sick tourist who had gone to the toilet emerged as the cleaner doing his rounds. No one had noticed anything.
Pigeon
I was getting very worried by then. We had to do something! Jandamarra suggested that Cassandra was our best chance. Somehow, we had to warn her, but how? Once again, my spirit guide came up with a solution.
When Cassandra looked at Anna sleeping in her bed, she thought she could see something strange hovering above Anna’s head. It was transparent like fog, only a little denser. Plasma? An apparition? she asked herself, leaning forward to see better in the half light. Slowly, a face materialised – fuzzy at first – but soon the features were taking shape. Pigeon? she whispered, her heart pounding. The face nodded and looked sadly at her. Then the face turned towards Anna and began to transform itself. Within seconds it had changed into a hideous looking mask. Cassandra gasped. The face staring down at Anna was the disfigured face of the Devil with a missing left eye, conjuring up images of the Mardi Gras assassination gone horribly wrong.
Cassandra tried to concentrate and closed her eyes. The message was clear: another assassination! But how, and where? When Cassandra opened her eyes again, the apparition was gone.
Moments later, she heard footsteps approaching in the corridor outside. The back of her neck began to tingle. Reaching for her walking stick, Cassandra stood up and stepped behind the door. From there she had a clear view of Anna’s bed, but couldn’t be seen from outside. She held her breath and stood motionless in the corner, listening. The footsteps became louder and suddenly stopped in front of the open door. Silence. Then footsteps again. Someone was entering the room. A white-haired, elderly man in a dark blue uniform approached the bed.
Cassandra saw some kind of logo on the back of his shirt. He isn’t a doctor, she thought, trying to read the writing on the logo, or a nurse. Squinting to see better, she read the words, ‘Nu Broome Cleaning Co’ under the intertwined letters NBCC. A cleaner, she thought, relieved.
She was about to step forward and say something when the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small container the size of a spectacle case. Carefully, he opened the container and took out a syringe. Cleaners don’t give injections, thought Cassandra, her heart pounding. Holding the syringe in his right hand, the man walked silently past the sleeping countess and approached the bed.
Cassandra remembered the apparition and the warning. Holding her walking stick with both hands, she limped forward, ready to strike. The white-haired man, sensing movement behind him, stopped. Before he could turn to investigate, Cassandra’s walking stick came down on his wrist with full force. The syringe fell out of his hand.
Swinging her walking stick again, Cassandra screamed for help. The countess woke with a start and opened her eyes.
Ignoring the pain, the White Wolf spun around and assessed the situation: deflecting the second blow was easy. Cassandra lost her grip and the walking stick went flying. Without the stick to support her, she staggered backwards and fell on top of the bed. Woken by the commotion exploding around her, Anna sat up and began to scream. The baby woke up as well and started to cry.
The White Wolf knew he had to retrieve the syringe lying on the floor – and quickly. He ignored the hysterical women screeching in front of him, and bent down.
Instinct told the countess that the man had to be stopped. She leapt out of the chair and hurled herself on top of the intruder crouching on the floor. Taken momentarily by surprise, the White Wolf picked up the syringe, twisted around, and attempted to stab his attacker with the needle.
The countess took hold of the White Wolf’s right wrist with both hands and tried to bite his arm. He managed to grab her hair with his free hand and pulled her away just before she could sink her teeth into him.
‘Help me!’ shouted the countess, looking pleadingly at Cassandra, her eyes bulging.
Cassandra slid off the bed and kicked the White Wolf in the back of the head. Momentarily dazed by the unexpected blow, he let go of the countess’ hair and tried to roll away. The countess sensed a flicker of weakness in her adversary and seized the moment. The screams of her terrified daughter gave her strength. She twisted the Whit Wolf’s wrist towards his chest and pushed a
s hard as she could.
‘I’ve got him!’ she yelled.
‘Hold on,’ hissed Cassandra. As she reached across to help the countess, she lost her balance and pricked one of her fingers with the tip of the needle just before it entered the White Wolf’s throat. Frothing at the mouth, the White Wolf went limp.
Andrew, Jack and Rebecca arrived with the police a few minutes later. The White Wolf was dead, Cassandra had been taken to Intensive Care, and the countess and Anna were being comforted by a nurse
‘What the hell happened here?’ demanded Jack. He turned to Andrew who had just finished talking to the doctor in charge.
‘Apparently, a man tried to kill Anna, but Cassandra and the countess managed to stop him,’ replied Andrew.
‘The Wizard? He’s behind all this?’
‘Who else? I told them Anna was in danger, but no one listened,’ complained Andrew with a shrug. ‘I asked for police protection ...’
‘Come quickly!’ said a nurse, running down the corridor towards them. ‘She’s asking for you.’
‘How is she?’ asked Jack.
‘Conscious, but fading fast ...’ replied the nurse. ‘There isn’t much time.’
‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘Her respiratory system is collapsing ...’
‘Poison?’ interrupted Andrew.
The nurse shrugged.
‘Get the countess,’ said Jack, turning to Rebecca. ‘Hurry!’
Cassandra knew she was dying. Looking tiny and frail and with tubes and monitors connected to her face, arms and chest, she was watching the door intently. I must speak to them, she thought, before it’s too late. Jack was the first to enter the room. Shocked by Cassandra’s appearance, but trying hard not to look alarmed, he walked over to the bed. Andrew, Rebecca and the countess arrived moments later and stood by the door, watching.
Dear God, no, thought the countess and began to pray. Feeling dizzy and unable to hold back the tears, Rebecca reached for Andrew’s arm to steady herself.
‘A spot of wrestling, I’m told,’ said Jack, reaching for Cassandra’s limp hand. ‘Never underestimate a determined woman, I say.’
The Disappearance of Anna Popov: A supernatural suspense thriller (Jack Rogan Mysteries Book 2) Page 30