The Silent Country (13 page)

They pulled into the dirt and under Peter’s direction began unloading tents and the other camping gear. Marta took a torch and walked further from the road into the bushes looking for kindling. In a minute there was a shriek and she hopped and squealed, dropping the torch.

Colin raced over. ‘What’s up?’

Marta pointed at a bush. ‘Over there. A snake!’

Colin nervously swung the beam of his torch at a small shrub.

‘Get a stick, kill it!’ Marta grabbed a branch lying on the ground and handed it to Colin.

‘Be careful picking thinks up in the dark.’ Cautiously he poked the stick at the bush, then leapt back.

A small rodent with a long tail darted away.

‘It’s only a bush rat of some kind. You’d better not go into the scrub alone in future. Take Helen or someone with you so you can look out for each other.’

Marta wrinkled her nose. ‘Helen wouldn’t like that. She is a very snobbish person, you know.’

Colin wanted to agree that he found Helen very intimidating but said comfortingly, ‘Oh, she’ll settle down once we’re all roughing it.’

At the fire Topov announced, ‘Topov has caravan. It is my house. My office.’

‘Where are the rest of us going to sleep?’ demanded Marta.

‘We’ve got tents but I’m happy to sleep in the car,’ said Drago. ‘Let’s get some food going.’

The discussion went to and fro. Drago and Peter began putting up the tents and Colin continued collecting wood for a fire.

‘Be careful there aren’t spiders or snakes under the bigger pieces,’ Marta reminded him.

‘Helen, you know how to put up a tent?’ called Peter, anxious to get on with things and end the talk.

‘I do not.’

‘Then you will have to learn,’ said Peter. ‘We’ll make a rule that everyone has to put up their own tent.’

‘I’ll need a lesson I’m afraid,’ said Colin.

‘Topov make rules,’ said Topov who felt he was losing control of the situation as the activity swirled around him, everyone now anxious to get settled.

‘Why bother with tents,’ said Johnny. ‘I’ll just sleep in a sleeping bag.’

‘Good idea,’ said Drago.

Peter began to swear under his breath in Dutch then turned to Johnny. ‘There aren’t enough tent pegs or guy ropes. Who sold these to you?’

‘It was a good deal, army surplus. They’re good enough for fighting men,’ answered Johnny. ‘Look, we can pick up what we need tomorrow. There won’t be a problem.’

‘Oh shut up, Johnny,’ said Marta. ‘Where is the food? You’re the cook.’

Tinned soup and toast made over the fire and a hot pot of real coffee helped everyone’s temper, although, not surprisingly, Helen preferred tea. Topov announced that he would now retire for the night and closed the caravan door behind him. Drago and Peter were the first to roll into their sleeping bags while Helen and Marta were sharing the best tent. Drago had shown Colin how to put up his tent and he gladly settled inside. Only Johnny remained in a collapsible chair by the fire, staring thoughtfully into the dwindling flames.

In the small hours when the fire had become warm ashes, not even a cattle truck rattling south along the Mitchell Highway disturbed the exhausted travellers camped by the side of the road, miles from their destination, while, unseen, cattle chewed quietly in a paddock beside them.

T
HE SECURITY IN THE
small but ultra-modern building in the city initially surprised Veronica. There were surveillance cameras, a buzzer and speaker for entry into the building and another set of doors into the reception area. Thick carpet, the security guard next to the elevator and dark tinted glass doors at the entrance gave no clue as to what lay beyond. As she noticed the heavy gold frames around pictures of thoroughbred horses, she realised that someone like John Cardwell would take precautions.

She thought back to their research about him when they’d wanted to include him in a story on the racing industry and recalled tales of gold bullion under beds, a horse-swapping swindle in Hong Kong – blamed on the trainer – and offshore casinos with high-roller rooms
frequented by celebrities, corporate executives and Saudi princes. But Cardwell had refused to be interviewed, no-one would speak about him and there were scant press cuttings or photographs of the elusive businessman.

The receptionist was a stern looking, middle aged woman, conservatively but elegantly dressed. ‘Please take a seat. Mr Cardwell has made an exception to see you. As you know he doesn’t give interviews, but you did say this was just a five minute conversation?’ she asked pointedly.

‘That’s right. It’s not a story about Mr Cardwell, but some people he once knew. I thought he might be able to help throw a bit of light on them,’ said Veronica reassuringly.

The receptionist didn’t look convinced. ‘This is very unusual for him. He’s making a few moments between appointments for you.’

‘Thank you. I shan’t keep him,’ said Veronica. She’d been amazed he’d actually agreed to see her in the first place. ‘Does he work every day? He must have tremendous energy.’ Like Colin, he must be at least eighty, she thought.

A few moments later Veronica entered a wood-panelled lift with a mirror on one wall and she wondered if there was a camera behind it, then admonished herself for feeling paranoid. She glided to the third floor where Cardwell’s personal assistant, a pretty young woman, was waiting as the doors opened. She escorted Veronica down a carpeted hallway, slid a security card into the door and ushered Veronica into an anteroom with closed carved-wood doors.

‘I’ll announce you in a moment or two. Would you care for anything?’

‘Thank you, no,’ said Veronica taking a seat on a small sofa. ‘I don’t want to hold Mr Cardwell up.’

There was a buzz, the girl reappeared, motioned to Veronica and opened the wooden doors.

The office was expansive with heavy furniture and wide windows that overlooked the Botanic Gardens. Behind a solid desk sat a man with thinning white hair and glasses, dressed, in contrast to the room, in casual pants and a golf shirt. He stood up and nodded to her, holding out his hand across the desk.

‘Hello. Now what’s all this about? Why is anyone interested in a non-event that happened fifty years ago?’

Veronica was tempted to ask why, if it was such a non-event, was he prepared to see her, but instead said, ‘It seems such an adventurous expedition with such an interesting group of people wanting to film the outback at a time when travelling there couldn’t have been easy.’

‘That it wasn’t. Go on.’ He waved at her to sit as he leaned back in his chair behind his desk and clasped his hands, waiting.

‘I gather the film was never completed, but could you tell me anything that you can remember about that time?’

‘No. The whole episode fell apart in Darwin and we went our own ways. I never expected to hear about it again and I don’t want to relive it with the media, even
Our Country
. But what brought it to your attention?’

‘A chance meeting with Colin Peterson. He was the only Aussie in the group apart from yourself and Marta. Colin doesn’t think anyone else from the expedition is still alive.’

‘Colin and Marta and I were the youngest, so I assume everyone else has gone to God by now,’ said Cardwell.

‘Yes, Topov must have long died. How old was he when you met him?’

Cardwell narrowed his eyes. ‘You don’t know very much about Maxim Topov?’

‘Only what Colin has told me. What are your memories of him?’

‘As I said before, Miss Anderson, I don’t give out interviews to the media. Colin was very naïve and the project came to nothing. I suggest that you look for a more entertaining story to explore.’ He rose and held out his hand to end the conversation.

His abruptness surprised Veronica. While she knew that he was media shy and this was an episode in his life that he either wanted to forget or didn’t consider the least bit important, why had he agreed to meet her?

‘Thank you for seeing me, Mr Cardwell. I had hoped that you would like to help me more, but I realise how busy you are.’ Veronica strode across the room and grasped the brass door handle but the doors wouldn’t budge. She glanced back at the old man. Smiling broadly now, he touched a button on his desk and there was a click and the doors opened.

Veronica appeared at Andy’s office door. ‘Can I come in? I’ve just seen Cardwell.’

‘I know. Pull up a chair.’ Andy looked grim. ‘So tell me what transpired.’

‘Not a lot. The place is like Fort Knox. He’s very different from the impression I’d built up of the cheeky cockney cook with connections, though the good contacts must still be there. Cardwell’s outfit smells of serious money. He must have called in a designer to do the office.’

‘His wife. She is old money. That was a cause for speculation too. Why would a classy well-bred, rich, if plain-looking, woman, who had her pick of the best, marry such a rough diamond?’

‘He probably had a charming silver tongue. Now he
just seems grumpy. And frankly I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him.’

‘Yes. Well, we should discuss that.’

‘Don’t you want to hear what he had to say?’ she asked.

‘Did he give you anything of interest?’

‘No. Andy, what are you holding back?’ asked Veronica.

‘I had a call from Mr Cardwell. He was pretty quick off the mark. He was not amused at our digging into his past, as he put it.’

‘What? I went to great pains to say it wasn’t about him. It was about the trip and that it was for a story about the Australian film industry!’ exclaimed Veronica.

Andy lifted his hands in resignation. ‘He thought it a pointless exercise for a story – though I don’t need him to tell me my job. He felt it was an invasion of his privacy and that anyone still living might well have faulty memories and he would prefer we didn’t pursue such a non-story. There was a veiled threat of his going to Big Bill, our new leader.’

‘That’s outrageous,’ said Veronica. ‘Why is the old man reacting so badly?’

‘I don’t know. Now, tell me everything that happened.’

Andy listened carefully to Veronica’s account of her brief conversation with John Cardwell. ‘Hmm. Not much there. So, why all the threats? Is it just that he doesn’t like media attention, or is there something more?’

Veronica grimaced. ‘Mr Cardwell’s threat has stirred you up.’

‘Yep. Give your friend Colin another call and see what else he can tell you, especially what happened to cause the party to break up in Darwin.’

‘I suspect the disintegration could have started before then,’ commented Veronica.

‘Ah, yes, Darwin,’ said Colin in answer to Veronica’s question when she called him to ask what had happened.
‘A lot happened on the way, so by the time we finally arrived, things were pretty tense. We ended up staying there quite some time.’

‘Colin, do you think you could meet me again at the coffee shop at the Cross? I’d love to hear more about the journey.’

‘Yes, I guess so, if you’re still enjoying it.’

Later that day Veronica and Colin settled themselves into the corner of the coffee shop in the Cross and Veronica began to ask questions about the extraordinary trip that Colin had undertaken.

‘Tell me, Colin, had you formed any opinion of your travelling companions by now?’

‘They were all so different. Topov, well he was the centre of our little world, although sometimes I thought that perhaps he was a bit crazy. Johnny, I already knew him, although I must say that the way he took to the outback life surprised us. Peter was quiet and taciturn and Drago was a great cameraman, but he was always frustrated by Topov’s directions. Helen was always very superior. And Marta. She was wonderful and very talented. Do you know, she put on a one-woman show in Darwin? Played to packed houses. The locals had never seen such a performance. Of course this was right towards the end and we’d all got to know each other a lot better by then.’

It was a week into the expedition and a sort of routine had been adopted which included stops, excursions and general disruption usually initiated by Topov. The change in the country from scattered rural towns and farms to cattle stations and remote settlements with hours on the road where they rarely passed another vehicle was a shock to the party. Once they left Bourke they seemed to be heading into nowhere land as Peter called it. They had all been
unprepared for the great distances. Topov accused Colin of not explaining this.