The Immolation of Eve

by Helen Fields

  ‘My mother used to say there are no coincidences, only accidents waiting to happen. That may have been a little too prophetic in your case, of course. I do have news for you but I’m afraid not all of it is good.’

  ‘I’m only expecting bad news to be honest, the more I think about this the fewer scenarios occur to me where my birth parents had me adopted for a good reason. So go ahead, pretend you’re ripping a plaster off a child’s knee, best do it fast and in one go.’

  I don’t know what I was expecting but at least I hadn’t gone into this imagining a happily ever after. I wasn’t wrong.

  ‘Well, your birth father, Branimir Karas, is dead. He died in April, 1985. I’m afraid the circumstances are rather upsetting. He committed suicide whilst he was a patient at what they then called an insane asylum. Do you want to know any more or shall I move on?’

  ‘I think I need to know everything.’

  ‘It seems as if he got hold of a lighter from a staff member’s bag. He locked himself in a caretaker’s cupboard, doused himself with cleaning fluids and set his clothing on fire.’

  ‘How long had he been institutionalised?’

  ‘I don’t have the exact date but it seems he was committed about the same time you were adopted. I’m sorry Eve. It’s not the news I’d hoped to give you.’

  ‘It is what it is. Can we get hold of any more information, medical records?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. The files were destroyed when the asylum was closed down in the early nineties. They would have contained all the committal papers. It’s a dead end.’ I couldn’t help but wonder what had driven my father insane. If it were an inherited condition maybe it explained what was happening to me now. Or was it the adoption? Perhaps he couldn’t live with the decision he and my mother had taken. It prompted me to ask about her.

  ‘And my mother, Patrick. Any news about her?’

  ‘I’ve drawn a blank, really. There’s no death certificate lodged in this country but there are no tax returns filed in the name you gave me for as long as the computer records go back. What I do know is this. She was a nurse at the hospital in Brezno where you were born; it gives her occupation and place of work in the adoption files.’

  ‘Nothing else? No way to trace her? I have to find out what happened, I’m falling apart Patrick. Any other details, however tiny, might help.’ I could hear the sound of papers being shuffled and Patrick sighing with frustration.

  ‘Nothing that I can see. The adoption file gives the name of the midwife who delivered you. The only other thing is a medical examination record from when you were taken out of Slovakia and transferred to the UK. There’s nothing remarkable except some injuries to your feet.’

  ‘My feet. What about them?’

  ‘Burns, it says here. Third degree burns to both your feet. No explanation on the papers. Is it relevant?’ I didn’t speak. I was kicking off my shoes and running my hands over the scarring that had never faded. I couldn’t wear the strappy sandals favoured by my friends, didn’t bother with shoe shopping. I wore sensible boots for work and trainers at the weekend. My parents had told me it was a birth defect. If it had been an accident, why the lie? ‘Eve, are you still there?’

  ‘Sorry, still here.’

  ‘Hold on, just checking one last thing.’ I could hear keys tapping on his computer, pausing, tapping again. ‘The midwife’s name is Olga Hornik, again no death certificate on record. Local council records give an address in Brezno but no telephone number. She’s in her late eighties though; it might be a wild goose chase.’

  ‘It’s better than nothing. Could you email me the address, please?’

  ‘Eve, are you serious? You’re can’t just turn up at her door. Think about it, it’s nearly thirty years ago, she probably won’t remember and if she does what is it you think she’ll be able to tell you? Chances are she doesn’t speak English and you’ll have a wasted journey. And that’s another thing, how are you going to get to Brezno?’

  ‘My flight out isn’t until Sunday night. I'm looking online now. I can get from Krakow to Brezno by train. If I go out on the first one tomorrow morning I can be there by lunch time. It’s no good trying to stop me Patrick; I really don’t have a choice. If this is my only lead then I’ll take it. I’ll just have to figure out what to do when I get there. If you’re right that my mother worked as a nurse in the same hospital then there just might be a chance that Olga will remember her. Believe me, at this stage the slimmest conceivable chance is better than none at all.’

  ‘You can stand to get on a train again, after last time? Then I understand how much you want to find answers. I’ll meet you in Brezno. The least I can do is translate for you. Consider it my consulate duty.’

  ‘Patrick, I would never have asked you to go so far out of your way. You don’t have to, you know. I’ve imposed so much already...’

  ‘You don’t strike me as someone foolish enough to turn down an offer of help when you need it.’

  ‘I’m not and I won’t. As long as you know how grateful I am and that if you change your mind over night, I’ll understand.’

  ‘Keep your mobile with you and switched on. Text me the time of the train you’re getting and I’ll meet you at Brezno station. Don’t take any risks or go off on your own, okay? Slovakia is a wonderful country but off the beaten track people can be mistrustful of strangers.’

  ‘I hear you.’

  ‘See you tomorrow. Just don’t get your hopes up too high.’

  Even I couldn’t believe that I was getting on a train that would take me back through the Tatra Mountains after my last experience. The only way I can explain it is that I felt as if I were being driven by something I couldn’t control. If I were advising a friend in my position I’d have been on a plane to drag them home. For precisely that reason I avoided phoning Naomi or Nate to let them know what was going on. This was a task best undertaken without pause. The thought made me look at my watch. As distracted as I was, I had other duties in Krakow requiring my attention.

  I slipped on my suit jacket and ran a brush through my hair. This time tomorrow I would be in Brezno. One step closer to resolution. Whether that was the same thing as finding peace of mind I didn’t know. Then I did the thing I've always been able to do so effectively. I closed the door on one set of thoughts and opened another. This afternoon had to be about Albert Cornish, not me. I picked up my brief, a pen and started the short walk to the Dragon’s Cave.

  As I approached I could see that Marcus had already arrived and was stood with the photographer. As I joined the group two security guards introduced themselves.

  Marcus was deep in conversation. The photographer was snapping away at the entrance to the cave by which Albert and Angela had entered. I could see a door with large padlocks, so prominent that it would have been near impossible to have neglected to secure it. One of the security guards had been on duty that night and remained on the scene with the police. The other was his superior, keen to ensure that no blame was laid at their door. We were told that the cave was closed to the public for the afternoon so that we could visit uninterrupted, but left in no doubt that our visit wasn’t particularly welcomed. They could obviously do without this sort of publicity. The Judge turned up with a court clerk in tow to make notes and we ventured down the steep slope into the body of the cave.

  I'd been here before but was interested to see the reactions of the others. Marcus made a great play of how easy it was to get down the stone pathway by scarcely touching the guide rope next to him then slipped and landed on his backside. I leaned over to help him up but he saw the smile on my face before I could hide it and brushed my hand away.

  ‘Steep isn’t it?’ I said.

  ‘It’s fine. I just missed my footing, that’s all.’ He disappeared off ahead. From a little way behind I was pleased to hear the Judge muttering that he couldn't believe no-one had broken their neck coming down here late at night, especially whilst drunk. What can have been going through Angela Smyth’s
mind? Even with people I knew and trusted, I wouldn’t have done anything so foolhardy in a foreign country at night. When I'd asked the guard if music was played in the cave he'd looked at me as if I were an idiot. Perhaps that had been part of Albert’s drunken imaginings, but if the music hadn’t been real then maybe he'd been wrong about other parts of his story, too.

  The photographer covered every inch of the caverns including ground shots of exactly where the rape was said to have happened. The floor was rough and sharp in places. I commented on it mildly to the Judge whilst Marcus was busy telling the photographer what a perfect place it was to commit an assault without witnesses. I couldn’t argue with that although I thought it was a fairly inconvenient place if you were blind drunk in the dark. I was managing to keep my temper with Marcus until he stepped over a line and started suggesting alternative ways the attack might have happened.

  'Of course, the victim may have been hit on the head which would explain why she was so compliant. Quite often head injuries and concussion aren’t diagnosed, in my experience.’

  ‘Marcus, this isn't the trial and you're not here to make up stories to suit your case. Stop trying to influence the Judge when we’re not even in the Courtroom.’ I snapped.

  ‘I’m simply considering all the possibilities. You can close your eyes to the fact that a rape happened at all, if that’s what helps you believe your client is innocent.’

  ‘We’re on a site visit. This isn’t the time or place for your speeches.’ I was suddenly furious. I wanted out of that claustrophobic cave and some natural light. More than that, I wanted to be out of the loathsome company of Marcus Brandt who was much too close for my liking. The Judge walked between us.

  ‘Miss MacKenzie, if you don’t mind the ‘Judge’ is standing right here so you can address me in person. And Mr Brandt, she is quite right. You are not here to make speeches, just to look around and point out anything specific you will refer to at the trial. Now, if you’ve both quite finished I think I’ve seen enough. Does anyone want to add anything to the points already raised? No? Then I’m going back to my hotel to write up my notes. Let security know when you’ve finished.’ He was obviously feeling as uncomfortable as me. The Judge made his way back to the exit and I saw him taking one last look around before starting the climb to the outside.

  Marcus and I were both quiet for a few moments, soaking up our reprimand. In the silence I thought I could hear sounds coming from the very furthest corner of the cave. Without speaking to Marcus I began to make my way deeper into the gloom. As I stepped beyond the reach of the lighting and into a tiny nook in the rock I heard noises again. It sounded like drumming, rhythmic and soft. I put my hands on the stone to see if I could feel any vibrations. The music seemed to getting louder, as if it were approaching through the walls.

  ‘Looking for divine inspiration?’ Marcus was directly behind me and I had nowhere to go but to shrink into the wall face first.

  ‘Get away from me Marcus, group visit is over.’

  ‘I don’t think so, not just yet. I want to look at whatever you’re looking at. See what little gems you think you’re going to come up with a trial. Romantic, isn’t it? You can just imagine the two of them down here fooling around.’

  ‘I’m not sure who was fooling around down here but it wasn’t my client. You’ve read his interview. He says there was another man. Did you even try to investigate that or would it make things a little too complex for you to deal with?’

  ‘Angela doesn’t mention the other man and I think she’d remember, don’t you? Or maybe you're right. Perhaps it started out as a threesome and she was too embarrassed to admit it. Maybe your client got jealous about having to share, sent this other man packing and decided to show her who was boss.’

  ‘I think you need to get some air, you seem to be getting a bit over excited.’ I tried to push past but I was in a corner with a wall behind me and Marcus in front. ‘Marcus, get out of my way.’

  ‘Now, that’s not very polite is it? Although it’s probably exactly what the victim was saying to your client just before he pushed her to the floor.’ He took another step towards me and I instinctively shrank closer against the wall.

  ‘Marcus, whatever game you’re playing it needs to stop right now. This is beneath even you. One last chance, get out of my way or I’ll start shouting for security.’

  ‘I think Angela Smyth found out that the sound of screaming doesn’t reach the surface when you’re all the way at the back of the cave here.’ As he said it he put one foot between my two and pushed his knee against the wall so that I couldn’t move left or right. ‘I never know why women barristers defend rapists. I have a theory it’s because they find it secretly exciting, the thought of what the man next to them is capable of. Is that it, Eve? Does the thought of man forcing himself inside you get you off?’

  I did the only thing I could think of and kneed him in the groin. Unfortunately, because of the way my feet were spread, it didn’t do as much damage as I wanted and he was able to grab my ankle as I tried to run. He was stronger than he looked for his height and easily a match for me. He launched himself on top of me where I was scrabbling to get up, put one forearm across my throat and with his other hand ripped at the front of my shirt. I struggled to breathe and started seeing stars. His whole body weight was bearing down on me and I couldn’t move.

  ‘Marcus, please, this isn’t you. Don’t do it, you’ll hate yourself.’ I started sobbing. ‘Please stop, Marcus, please stop.’ His hands were inside my bra now, hurting me and laughing, pressing his face into mine. He was grinding his crutch into mine and his pathetic grunting and thrusting at me was repulsive. He moved his hand down to his trousers and pulled desperately at his zip. I forgot trying to plead with him and did the one thing I knew he wouldn’t be able to stand and spat in his face. I didn’t care about consequences. He wasn’t going to stop. He pulled his lips back from his teeth in anger and snarled like a rabid animal, opening his jaws as if preparing to bite. Then a voice shouted from the entrance of the cave. A torch was flashing in the distance. Marcus had already rolled off me and my eyes began to focus again as I got some oxygen. Footsteps were coming closer and Marcus was on his feet desperately trying to pull himself together. As the security guard rounded the bend into the cavern he saw me on the floor and ran to help. I pulled my shirt together, winded and unable to speak.

  ‘She fell over,’ panted Marcus. ‘I was about to come and get help. I couldn’t move her.'

  ‘You need an ambulance?’ the guard said.

  ‘No, I just need to get out of here,’ I whispered and gratefully accepted the offer of his arm. Marcus came along behind us, repeating over and over that there was nothing he could do. When we were up and out of the cave I collapsed onto the grass. The guard had run to get some water and a first aid kit.

  ‘Eve, I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry. That just wasn’t me. You have to believe me. What are you going to do? Eve, listen to reason…’

  ‘I’m not going to do anything Marcus. It’s your word against mine and I know how manipulative you are. But come near me again, touch me, walk into a room with me unless there are other people present and I will end your career. You hear me? Now get away from me. I don’t want to see or hear from you until we're next in court.’ He acknowledged the warning and half walked, half ran away.

  The guard sat down with me as I drank some water and dabbed antiseptic wipes on the scratches to my face, hands and chest.

  ‘You ripped your shirt like that just falling down?' he asked. I didn’t feel a need to be too convincing.

  ‘I’ll be ok.’ I said. ‘You don’t need to worry.’ He waited while I had a drink before speaking again.

  ‘There is a story that the cave is cursed, you know?’ I stared at him.

  ‘Tell me.’ I said.

  ‘The story goes that after Prince Krak killed the dragon, his daughter was pursued by a knight trying to win her hand in marriage. He proposed to her down
there in the Dragon’s Cave. The Princess did not accept and the knight was enraged. He is said to have forced himself upon her so that she could not marry anyone else but left open the offer of marriage as he wanted to acquire the wealth of her father’s lands. Rather than marry him she ran from the cave and threw herself into the Vistula River where she drowned. You are not the first woman I have seen come out of that cave shaken and injured, followed by a man looking as ashamed as your companion did.’ He poured me some more water. ‘Are you sure I cannot call someone for you?’

  ‘Have there been other reports of assaults down there?' I asked.

  'No case ever went to court, not since I’ve been working here.’ He looked as if he regretted starting to speak with me.

  ‘No, but what about complaints or incidents. Have the police ever been called?’

  ‘We’re not supposed to talk about it. We rely on the tourist trade, here.’

  ‘I don’t want to bring you any bad publicity and I certainly couldn’t use it in court but it might just help me reason with the prosecutor. That’s the man in the cave with me, you understand?’

  ‘There are security logs. After my shift I may be able to copy some of the papers but it will not be until late tonight.’

  ‘That’s fine. I don’t want you to do anything that could get you into trouble, though. Can I meet you somewhere to get the files?’

  ‘I can drop them at your hotel. It’s better no-one sees you here again today or they might think something is wrong.’

  ‘I understand. I’m staying at the Copernicus. You know where that is?’ he nodded. ‘My name is Eve Mackenzie. Here’s my card.' I slipped my details out of my wallet. 'If you don’t mind my asking, why are you helping me?’

  ‘The soldier, your client, I was with the police when they went down into the cave. He had no idea what was happening. I could see it in his face. I don’t go down into that cave alone with women, Miss MacKenzie, none of us guards do. You don’t play with fire. I feel sorry for him. He seemed like a good enough man.’