The Opal Desert (25 page)

‘I wonder how Viktor is,' said Shirley. ‘I bet he didn't swing a pick last night. I expect that he just slept off his little party.'

‘We'll look in on him before we start work,' he said.

Stefan sang softly as he drove out to the diggings. His musical voice always entranced Shirley. She loved it when he played his flute, which he did occasionally. She came to realise that when he picked it up, it was generally when he needed to be by himself. When he played, he closed his eyes and he seemed to be in another place. She learnt simply to appreciate those moments and enjoy the music while leaving him with his thoughts. But at other times he'd whistle as he dug, or sing, as he was doing now, and Shirley knew that he was feeling happy.

There was no movement around the tents at the camp as their truck pulled up. Shirley assumed that everyone was either working in their mines or still sleeping.

‘Stefan, before we get started, we'd better give Viktor a hoy. I'll go over and look in his tent.'

‘Hang on. I'll check down his mine shaft first. He's probably asleep with his opals. Last night's vodka and brandy combination was pretty lethal.'

Stefan whistled as he trudged across the no man's land to Viktor's mine. The cover was off, the bucket was at the bottom of the shaft and a spade lay to one side. Stefan shouted down the narrow opening, but got no response. He was about to turn away but thought better of it and instead climbed into the mine, his feet feeling for the rungs of the iron ladder.

‘Viktor? Wake up! Are you in here?' He couldn't hear any noise or see any light, so he switched on his torch and glanced at the mine's two drives. He chose the narrower one and, hunched down under the low roof, he headed along it, stepping over rubble and a cable strung along the length of the tunnel which conducted power from the generator for the jackhammer. Seeing nothing, Stefan retraced his steps to the wider drive.

The entrance into this tunnel was jammed with earth and rubble, allowing only a small gap into the drive. Viktor must have been in a frenzy of digging once he found the initial opals, thought Stefan. But as he waved his torch along the rough walls, he sensed that something was not right. There was too much chaos. It looked as though Viktor had spent an entire night smashing through as much rock as possible. ‘Well,' said Stefan to himself, ‘If he's done that, he'll have crashed and be asleep in his tent.'

Stefan was about to retrace his steps when a pile of rocks caught his eye. A piece of coloured cloth was caught between some of the rocks. On his knees, Stefan inched forward and found that the rocks were placed like a wall in front of a cavity. He hastily pulled the top layer of rocks down and shone his torch over it, his head bumping against the low roof. As the torch beam waved against the gouged wall, Stefan could see a dark mound. He shone the torch onto it to get a better look.

He had to look twice before he could accept what he was seeing in the pale torchlight. The huddled shape of Viktor was crumpled against the wall. This was not the curled figure of a man sleeping, but the distorted limbs of a body that had been flung here. And as Stefan ran the torchlight over the pile of rocks, he gagged, for he saw that Viktor's throat had been cut.

Stefan flung himself backwards in horror, scrambling out of the tunnel, suddenly feeling fearful and claustrophobic. At the top of the shaft, in the warm sunshine, he collapsed onto the ground, his head in his hands, the nightmare of what he'd just seen too awful to contemplate. Pulling himself up, he hastily ran to Shirley, who was at their mine, ready to descend. Shirley saw Stefan stumbling as he ran towards her and she knew instantly something was badly wrong.

‘Stefan, what is it?' She met him and he clung to her, his breath coming to him in gasps, making it impossible for him to speak. ‘Take it slowly, darling. Catch your breath. What on earth has happened?'

Stefan shook his head. He stared at Shirley and, after a moment, took a deep breath and said, ‘He's dead.'

‘What happened? Was there an accident?'

‘No!' shouted Stefan, startling Shirley. ‘There hasn't been an accident. He's been killed! Murdered!'

‘No! Are you sure he's dead?' Shirley shook Stefan slightly. ‘I'll go and check on him. Come on, quickly. How do you know he's been murdered? Dear God, what a tragedy.' She was already running towards Viktor's mine.

‘Shirley! His throat has been cut!'

Shirley faltered and turned back to Stefan. ‘Oh no. How horrible.' Her hand went to her mouth. ‘The opals. I suppose they killed him for his opals.'

As they both hurried towards Viktor's mine, Stefan said, ‘I didn't touch him. We should go straight to town and get the police.'

‘Yes. I know, but first let me see him. Maybe I can do something.'

Stefan looked at Shirley and said, ‘It's not a pretty sight.'

Holding the torch high so that she could see as she scrambled over the rocks piled in front of Viktor, Stefan watched Shirley put a hand to her mouth in horror as she crouched beside his body. She lifted his wrist and put a finger below his ear where the ugly gash had almost severed Viktor's head, which was now lolling at an unnatural angle.

‘You're right, Stefan, there is nothing I can do. He's been dead for a few hours. Poor Viktor. They've taken his opals. I wonder if they dug any more out? What's the rest of the mine like?'

‘A mess. If there was any more opal, they've probably got it.'

‘There's nothing left in his army coat,' said Shirley angrily. ‘He carried everything that was precious to him in those pockets.' She was close to tears.

‘Shirley, come on, we have to get the police.' Stefan leant over and held out his hand to help her scramble back through the small gap.

In silence they went back to the ladder and Shirley looked back into the darkness of the mine. ‘Poor Viktor. He was so happy and he said that he had such plans. This is just terrible,' she said angrily.

‘He told me that he'd like to have enough money to move on. He was sick of being hounded and a good find would be his ticket away from Lightning Ridge,' said Stefan.

‘Hounded? By whom? What's that mean?'

‘When I asked him, he just made a joke of it. He said that women were after his money. I didn't believe him.'

Shirley straightened up. ‘Well, no one deserves to die like that. Come on, we'd better get the police and let everyone else know that there's not just a ratter on the loose but a murderer.'

The murder caused a furore in Lightning Ridge, but the police were unable to find any clues. As Shirley suspected, the other miners at the campsite were totally unco-operative and all swore that they had seen and heard nothing that night.

Viktor's funeral was well attended, and afterwards Shirley and Stefan went back to work but they both felt uneasy. Among Bosko's group at the bore baths there was speculation that Viktor had been involved with anti-Tito sabotage, but no one really knew. Other rumours suggested that he was working with the Yugoslav government. Stefan told Shirley that it was just gossip, although Bosko seemed quite definite that Viktor was involved in something underhanded.

‘Where does Bosko get all this information? Or does he make it up?' demanded Shirley.

Stefan shrugged. ‘He certainly seems to have good links back to the old country, but I'm just never sure which cause or which group he's supporting. All I know is that he's always pressuring us to give money to support them.'

‘Yes, the Help Bosko Get Rich Fund,' snapped Shirley. ‘I not only don't trust him, I don't believe him. I don't think he's working for anyone but himself. I just wish when people come to our country they'd leave all their wars and intrigues behind them and start afresh.'

‘That's not easy to do when you have family left behind,' said Stefan. ‘I know that many immigrants do bring their prejudices, affiliations and loyalties with them in their suitcases, and it is not always possible to sever the links completely. Unless you are a little child, it is hard to let go of the way you were brought up, and just discard your culture and beliefs.'

‘Do you feel the same? Your parents are still back there. I know that you say you're happy you've made a new life here, but do you ever want to go back? Would you go back to get involved in Yugoslavian politics?'

Stefan heard the strain in Shirley's voice and saw the uncertainty in her eyes. He put his arms around her. ‘Of course not. You are my life now. I prefer to leave the ethnic tensions of Yugoslavia behind. The country might hold together under Tito's rule, and some people think of him as a great leader, but who knows what will happen when he dies? I suspect that there will be a parting of the ways between different interests.'

‘It sounds a bit of a shambles. I suppose it takes a strong personality to bring together so many different people and ethnic groups under one flag.'

‘Yes, and a very ruthless leader,' said Stefan. He hesitated and took Shirley's hand. ‘I have made a happy life here, and I sometimes worry about my parents who sacrificed so much for me, but I have you and I've made my choice. I don't want to be involved with Bosko and his little patriot games.'

Shirley shook her head. ‘This is all so foreign to me. I have lived in a city, worked with people from all walks of life, gone about my business, gone to the beach, the pictures, enjoyed myself. I really had no idea that this sort of thing went on.'

‘Shirley, I suspect that there is a lot going on that Australians generally don't know about. I have been told that there are camps set up out in the Australian bush by the UDBa – the Yugoslav intelligence organisation – to train Yugoslavs to fight the elements hostile to Tito, both here and back in Yugoslavia.'

Shirley shook her head. ‘You are joking. Here in Australia? Surely the authorities would do something about it, if it were true? This is too ridiculous for me to take in.' She looked into Stefan's eyes, trying to find the simple good man she thought she knew. ‘You're not involved in this, are you?'

‘That's the point, Shirley darling, I am not, and I don't want to be involved. I don't see it as my fight anymore.'

‘And Viktor? Was he mixed up in this?'

Stefan shrugged. ‘I really don't know. I told you all I know about opals being sold and the money being sent away, but I don't know for certain if Viktor was part of it, or if he was simply robbed and killed for his opals and nothing more.'

‘Well, I want to know that we aren't slaving away here to help fund a cause on the other side of the world!' declared Shirley. ‘I want to work for our future, not someone else's!'

He put his arms around her. ‘We are! You can look after our opals. You sell them, you decide how we divide the profits and spend the money. You are not just my business partner, you are my love, you are my life! Shirley, this is what I want you to know.'

He held her and she felt her fears melting, and the vehemence of his words convinced her they would be all right.

‘I know that you must have torn feelings when you are uprooted from your country. But I want you to be happy here. To love Australia like I do and then we'll be just fine,' Shirley said.

Stefan held her at arm's length, smiled and smoothed her hair. ‘I love you, Shirley. You are the most important person in my life. Please believe that.'

As he leant close to kiss her she murmured, ‘I just don't want anything to happen to us.'

A day or so later, while the two of them were shopping in town, they ran into Bosko.

‘Don't talk to him,' Shirley begged Stefan. ‘I think we should just leave him alone and have nothing to do with him.'

‘Darling, I can't do that, but I won't talk to him for long.'

Stefan walked over to Bosko and Shirley heard him politely ask how Bosko was.

‘Still devastated by the death of our dear friend Viktor, and it was all so unnecessary,' Bosko replied.

‘How do you mean?' asked Stefan.

‘Perhaps if he had made less noise about his discovery and asked his friends to help him look after his opal, then things might have been different.'

At this, Shirley came over and interrupted. ‘How would you have helped Viktor? By taking part of his find and using it for yourself?'

‘Shirley, please, don't say such things,' Stefan implored her, but Shirley was too angry to take any notice of him. She could only remember her own father's experience all those years ago, when no one had helped them.

‘I'm not surprised that no one has heard anything or seen anything,' she said. ‘All very convenient.'

‘I have no idea what your girlfriend is talking about, Stefan, but I think that such a wild conversation is not a good thing. People might think that I know things that I am keeping from the police.'

‘And maybe not just the police,' retorted Shirley. ‘Maybe there are other authorities who would be interested in some of your activities. It makes me so mad that someone as sweet as Viktor can be killed and there will be no justice for him.'

Bosko gave Stefan a hard look. ‘You must explain to your girlfriend that what she is saying is not helpful to either of you if you want to stay safe in Lightning Ridge.' With that he walked away.

‘Shirley, you shouldn't have said those things. I told you before that Bosko's not a man to make an enemy of.'

‘I'm sorry, but I'm sure that in some way Bosko knows something about Viktor's murder. Do you think we should tell the police what we think?'

‘What do we think? We don't know anything, Shirley. You are not to say anything more to anyone. It's too dangerous.'

Later, when they were working, Stefan asked Shirley if she would like to go away for a little holiday. He knew that she was shocked and angry that Viktor's murder remained unsolved.

Shirley leant on the handle of the shovel she'd been using and said, ‘You know, that's a good idea. I could do with a break away from here.'