Chapter 5
Doc Fowler slowly shook Pieter's hand and spoke as slowly, hesitating between most of the sentences as if he weighted each word with circumspection.
“I notice that you have not yet lost your inquisitive instincts, mmm. For once that something happens here, you immediately turn up. Very nice, nice indeed.... But I doubt it that you will be of much use in this case. The autopsy on corporal Sergio Votilio was rather straight forward. I would say death by the bullet, not? We did not find the bullet itself, but I suspect that it was war ammunition. Went straight through the guy and now lies somewhere at the bottom of the ocean. A pity for such a young guy. The question, that dreadful eternal question, is of course ... why?”
Jonathan pulled Pieter away from Doctor Fowler. “OK doc, I reckoned that one also myself. Can I show Pieter the victim's belongings? And have they already finished the investigation of the boat?”
“Yes,” Fowler answered, “I have put the report of the first ... and most likely only ... inquiry next to the box with his personal stuff. On the floor you will find his kitbag. Have fun with it. Should the military police not been involved or one or another investigative body like the NCIS?”
Jonathan answered negatively. The new commander had explicitly charged him with the investigation simply because there was not yet a military police department on the island. And even the suspicious death of the corporal had not convinced the commander to bring in a special police detachment.
“We are already flooded with new troops and men. We are very capable, and probably the best placed, to solve this accident ourselves internally,” he had retorted in a determined voice.
Pieter followed Jonathan into a small subdued office. On a wooden table the few personal belongings of the victim had been put criss-cross on display. Jonathan took the white plastic badge on which, with black letters, the name Sergio Votilio was engraved.
“Hé,” Pieter tried to stop him, “are you not supposed to wear gloves or so? There could be fingerprints or other traces on this stuff. Contaminating the evidence, it is called in the movies. You know?”
Jonathan frowned on Pieter.
“Come on, boy, don't exaggerate. We shall solve this mystery without all of the forensic hocus-pocus that only exists in your precious movies.” Without any hesitation he grabbed the other objects one by one, turned them around, and weighed them in the palm of his hand.
“Not a lot to deal with, I am afraid. Some ball pens that are effectively ball pens and no James Bond gadgets. A money clip with some hundred dollars. A Zippo lighter. Why is everyone carrying a Zippo lighter? He did not have any cigarettes with him. His access-pass for the computer centre on the south side. Judging from the colour code on the badge he had the highest clearance. Some loose coins.”
Jonathan continued and took the brownish worn leather wallet from the table. It was bent from the years in the back pocket of Votilio.
“A wallet with four credit cards, a bank card, an old Delta frequent flyer card, his driving licence ... let me have a look ... apparently from Detroit ... and his military passport. It looks rather new and has no stamps from previous travels. No pictures of girl friends or boy friends, father or mother, god children. No little pieces of paper with notes.”
He dropped the wallet back on the table. “And of course, here we have an old iPod. Let's check what kind of music Sergio liked. Where is the on-button?”
Pieter took the iPod from Jonathan who was turning the player in all directions. He pushed ostentatiously the switch on top of the device. The screen lightened up and showed the start menu.
“Did you see how it is done? These are really the classics. Look, even Queen and Abba are here.” Pieter rolled with his finger over the navigation wheel and flipped through the artists. He went back to the main menu.
“Let's have a look whether he stored pictures on this... No, that folder is empty. I am afraid this is also a common, be it old, iPod. No gadget of inspecteur Clouseau.”
Jonathan checked with Pieter: “can't these things be used as a hard drive?”
Pieter answered surprised: “yes indeed. From where appears this sudden technical insight?”
“Well, I've had a similar thing for years. Apparently, you have no idea how boring it could get in this place.”
Pieter rolled and clicked through the menu. “No, I cannot find anything. To be sure we should connect it to a PC. If we can still find an old one supporting this device. It would make it easier to detect possible hidden folders.”
With a fake Clouseau-voice Pieter continued: “we should take a look at his file.”
Jonathan removed the file from its plastic folder and glanced through the pages. Softly citing from time to time passages.
“Corporal Sergio Votilio... twenty five years old... born and raised in Detroit. Lived for a long time with his mom and dad till both died in a car accident about four years ago. He was an only child. From his career I can conclude his was some kind of a computer nerd. Went to the army, mmm interesting, only after the death of his parents. He worked at the department of advanced computer science in Detroit. Oh dear, here we go again. Project names that don't mean a thing. Project Luna, project Jaguar, project Abacus, project Haiku ... that's a good one.”
Jonathan tried to come up with a Haiku on the spot.
A young man was in love with his PC
So he wanted to go to the sea
He came to the Diego Atoll
But died in stead of having LOL
He paused for a moment and shook his head. “Let's stick to the case, shall we? Diego Garcia was his first foreign assignment in the army. Here he was responsible for ... I cite ... the development of complex algorithms to advance the resolving of fifth grade equations as applied in global simulations and scenario-building. Jesus, who writes and understands something like that? A nerd, just as I suspected. The purpose was that he would stay here for six months and than return back to Detroit. But it will never come that far for this poor man.”
Jonathan threw the report among the rest of the stuff and took another thin pile of typed out proceedings covering the investigation of the boat. Diagonally he screened the text and it became apparent that also here not a lot had been found.
“The only detail that sticks out is that the man had loaded the boat with extra diesel fuel. It seems that he wanted to sail a very long distance. Those boats, although they may look fragile, have been used for ever to cross the seas between the atolls. They are very sea worthy. Within living memory, it is known that the native's forefathers sailed very long distances. I suspect that he wanted to aim for the Seychelles or Mauritius to disappear via one of the large public airports.”
“But with what?” asked Pieter. “That man did not carry anything with him. Let's take a closer look inside his kit-bag.” They turned the heavy cotton bag upside down, spilling it's content over the floor. With the tip of his shoe, Jonathan pushed the shirts, trousers and T-shirts apart. “A well groomed and cared for man, I have to admit. Look, all is tidy and ironed. Let's take a look at his toilet articles.”
Some items rolled over the table and Jonathan put them orderly next to another. “Nice shaver. Tooth brush, tooth paste, comb, wrapped soap bars from a hotel ... not very enlightening for this investigation.”
Finally Stanford shrugged his shoulders. Even after they had searched the objects once more they could not find anything out of the ordinary.
Stanford's mobile phone rang.
He listened for a couple of seconds, checked his watch en turned, with the phone still next to his ear, to Pieter. “Okay, thanks. Pieter, all is ready so you can depart immediately. Your guests can't bear to wait anymore. Let's join them at the quay.”
With a proficient gesture he closed the oyster shell phone which as always brought up with Pieter the question what the Americans liked about those petite round mobiles.
“Guess I will continue to work on this tonight,” Jonathan sounded unmotivated, “let m
e give you a lift to the harbour.”
Pieter’s glasses were immediately covered with vapour as they stepped out of the cool air conditioned shed into the damp heat. An irritated shit escaped from his mouth, also caused by the silly grin of Jonathan. Pieter stared at Jonathan through his opaque glasses: “why do you think I am such a great pilot?”
Laughing they stepped into one of the parked open jeeps to rush off at an irresponsible speed, barely avoiding a collision with two men who happened to stroll on the walkway, direction hospital. Both men managed to jump sideways, waving their fists while Jonathan yelled: “damned rookies. What are you all doing here anyway?”
Even before the jeep came to a stand-still, Jackie stepped agitated towards the vehicle extending her hand to Jonathan who jumped on the ground with a flexible move.
“My name is Jackie, we have not yet met. But I heard from my sister and from Oona that you have taken the decision to send us back with this man to some sort of far off island? Why? We want to go home as soon as possible and the last thing we need or want is a forced stay with someone we don't even know. He could be a murderous weirdo. Is there anything that you can do to make us stay here? We will not cause any trouble.”
In admiration Jonathan continued to look at her. It had been a while since he had heard someone talk so fast and so long in one breath. Agreed, the Doctor had his ways with words also, but it took him a lot more time. After a while he asked: “is there anything else, miss?”
Quite upset by his unconcealed cynical remark she answered hesitatingly: “euh, no, that was it I think.” But soon she pulled herself together again and she started all over with her plea: “Is there really nothing we can do? Do you have a superior? I want to talk to your manager. I want to escalate this.”
“No.” Was the short answer.
From his tone it was clear that no further discussion was possible. But Jackie kept going and came hopping next to Jonathan who had started to walk to the edge of the harbour where the sea plane had been moored.
“I demand that I can stay here. And also my sister.” She looked angrily at her sister seeking some support, but she only nodded vaguely.
Jonathan stopped abruptly. “Listen miss. This is a military basis that has been brought in the highest state of preparedness. Nobody knows what exactly is going on. It might be an exercise. Maybe not. Nevertheless it implies that civilians are not welcome here, under any conditions, and have to leave as soon as possible. It was already against the rules that you were allowed to land in the first place. Now you must leave for at least a couple of days till I will have found proper transportation for you to go back home.”
He pointed at Pieter. “I am the first to admit that he is a bit strange, but accusing him of being a blood thirsty hermit is a bit over the top. Go with him and tomorrow we will send a plane loaded with food, drinks, and clothes. Whatever is needed to make your stay there a pleasant one. And now, get out of here.”
Jonathan himself was surprised that his military authority had effect on Jackie. He had not used this voice for the past years, but he was happy that he still had it.
Oona stood at Jonathan's side when Pieter boarded the plane as the last one, indicating a sailor to slip the moorings. She poked her shoulder against his chest. “Are you not envious? To see Pieter leave with two pretty ladies?”
Jonathan growled. “Envious? Do you want to bet that he will be back tomorrow and will drop them from his plane in the bay? What a fuss those two.”
They waved and put up their thumbs answering Pieter's greeting from the cockpit. He sailed carefully between the coming and going traffic in the harbour. Once in open sea, the plane accelerated and slowly detached itself from the surface.
Jonathan followed the decreasing dot till his eyes hurt from staring into the hard blue sky.
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The Abacus Equation Page 5