The Hidden Genes of Professor K: A Medical Mystery Thriller (Jack Rogan Mysteries Book 3)

by Gabriel Farago

  ‘We don’t know that.’

  ‘Still …’

  ‘A witness, you mean?’

  ‘I suppose so. If those notes are as important as you think and hold the key to a breakthrough … they could be invaluable.’

  ‘There was something Professor K’s assistant told me that’s bothering me.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘He came to see me in the afternoon. We spoke about the missing notes and he mentioned in passing that he saw Dr Cavendish in Professor K’s room on the very day the professor was found dead in his lab.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Nothing unusual about that, except for the fact that he thought that the safe was open … but he wasn’t absolutely sure about it.’

  ‘Oh? Now that is interesting, don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘And Cavendish is found floating in a fish tank the next day and the professor’s notes have disappeared. Coincidence?’ Jack felt something churn in his stomach. It was a familiar feeling. Another story? he thought.

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘You really want to know?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘It’s just a hunch.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘I think that the life of a certain geneticist I happen to know, is about to become very exciting.’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’

  ‘Be careful what you wish for.’

  13

  The black hire car pulled into the driveway and stopped in front of Jack’s apartment block. The driver got out and opened the back door. ‘Please wait here,’ said Lola, and walked over to the entrance. She pressed the penthouse intercom button, adjusted her hair and smiled into the camera.

  ‘Good evening,’ answered Jack.

  ‘I’m Lola Rodriguez from Tokyo. I’m sorry it’s so late, but the flight took a little longer than we thought. Turbulence.’

  ‘I’ve been expecting you. Please come in. Top floor; I’ll meet you at the lift.’

  Jack stood in the hallway and listened to the lift come up. As it stopped and the doors began to open, the hairs on the back of his neck began to tingle. Two stories in one day? he thought. There goes the holiday, I bet.

  The little woman standing in the lift reminded Jack of Cassandra, Tristan’s mother. The resemblance was striking: the same short, raven-black hair – combed straight back – and the same piercing eyes, radiating mystery and danger. ‘Mr Rogan?’ said the intriguing guest, holding out her hand. At least the voice is different, thought Jack, shaking her hand. ‘I’m Jack.’

  ‘And I’m Lola. Thank you for seeing me.’

  ‘Come in.’

  Lola followed Jack into the apartment. Expecting Jack to be alone, she was surprised to find an attractive young woman sitting in the lounge room. A complication, she thought, her mind racing. I can’t offend him. Used to dealing with the unexpected, Lola immediately adjusted her approach. She couldn’t possibly ask the woman to leave. ‘What a magnificent apartment,’ she said breezily, ‘and what a view!’

  ‘This is Dr Delacroix,’ said Jack, introducing Alexandra. Having sensed a flicker of unease and surprise in his mystery guest on finding Alexandra in the room, he decided to come straight to the point. ‘I don’t know what brings you here, but whatever it is you wish to say to me, you can say in front of Dr Delacroix. Should that be of some concern to you?’

  ‘I appreciate your candour, Mr Rogan, thank you. That won’t be a problem.’

  ‘Good. Please call me Jack. Drink?’ Jack asked, indicating to Lola to make herself comfortable.

  ‘Yes please.’

  Jack walked over to the ice bucket and poured a glass of champagne for his guest. Sitting in a comfortable armchair, Lola collected her thoughts. For a while, no one said anything, the tension in the room rising by the second. Jack handed her the glass and sat next to Alexandra.

  ‘Have you heard of Isis and The Time Machine?’ asked Lola, carefully watching Jack. He sat up, as if a piece of ice had been shoved down the back of his shirt, and almost spilled his drink. Tristan knew, he thought. How extraordinary!

  He looks like he’s seen a ghost, thought Lola. I wonder why.

  ‘It’s a rock band; heavy metal,’ replied Jack quietly.

  ‘That’s correct, and the lead singer is Isis. I’m her personal assistant. The group is currently on a world tour. The Tokyo concert was last night.’ Lola paused, feeling her way. ‘You may not be aware, but Isis’ parents, Lord and Lady Elms, were attacked in their London home a few days ago,’ she continued. ‘Her father was shot dead by intruders, and her mother died as a result of horrific injuries sustained in the attack. Isis was present in hospital when her mother died.’ Lola paused again, letting this sink in.

  ‘That’s terrible, I hadn’t heard …’ said Jack.

  ‘Lord Elms was a former chancellor of the exchequer. The official line at the moment is that Lord and Lady Elms were the victims of a home invasion gone wrong. However, Isis isn’t convinced. She doesn’t believe that was the case …’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘You must be wondering what all this has to do with you – right?’

  ‘The thought had crossed my mind,’ said Jack.

  ‘I’m afraid that’s how it will have to remain for the moment.’

  ‘I don’t follow.’

  ‘Isis would have come to see you herself, if her commitments would have allowed her to do so. Unfortunately, the next concert is in Mexico City in three days’ time, followed by Buenos Aires and then Rio. It’s a relentless schedule that made it impossible for her to come. She and the band are on their way to Mexico as we speak. That’s why she sent me instead.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘I’m only the messenger, delivering an invitation …’

  ‘An invitation?’ said Jack, surprised. ‘Please explain.’

  ‘Isis would like to put a proposal to you – in person. I’m not privy to what it’s about,’ continued Lola, carefully watching Jack’s reaction.

  ‘So?’

  ‘Because Isis cannot come to you, she would like you to accompany me to Mexico to meet her. Her private jet is waiting here at the airport. We could leave within the hour if—’

  ‘You can’t be serious!’ interrupted Jack, unable to hide his annoyance. ‘You want me to drop everything and just come with you? Halfway round the world to meet someone I don’t know? This is ridiculous!’

  Lola had expected something like this; things were quickly spinning out of control. She knew it was time to send the text message she had prepared earlier. Lola reached into her pocket and pressed the ‘send’ button on her phone. The message raced around the globe and reached Sir Charles, who had been waiting for it. Sir Charles rang Jack’s publisher, who then called Rebecca.

  ‘I know how this must look,’ replied Lola calmly, taking her time, ‘but please hear me out. I’ve been authorised to transfer two hundred thousand US dollars into your bank account.’

  ‘What, just to keep an appointment with a busy rock star?’ snapped Jack, his anger rising.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘This is crazy!’ Just then, Jack’s mobile began to ring. Annoyed, he reached into his pocket to turn it off.

  ‘I think you should answer that call,’ said Lola, watching Jack carefully.

  Surprised, Jack looked first at Lola, then at the screen. It was Rebecca. ‘Please excuse me,’ he said, and left the room.

  ‘Is she still with you?’ asked Rebecca.

  ‘Yes, her name’s Lola. Can you please tell me what’s going on here? I’ve been asked to go to Mexico to meet a rock star.’

  ‘Not just any rock star, Jack. Isis, a legend!

  ‘You haven’t answered my question.’

  ‘I don’t know much more than you, except for this: your publishers want you to go along with it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just go and listen to what Isis has to say; that’s all they’re asking. There’s no obligation and you get a
fabulous fee. This is an opportunity of a lifetime, Jack. I know a dozen authors who would gladly sell their own mother to be in your position, yet here you are being invited to meet her and being paid handsomely for the privilege. Think, Jack! What have you got to lose – eh?’

  ‘My holiday.’

  ‘Jesus! Here’s the deal: if you accept, I’ll get you an extra week. How’s that?’

  ‘You really want me to go?’

  ‘Yes. You’re the one who keeps telling me that stories find you – right? Well, I think that a whopper of a story has just found you, buster. The question is, what are you going to do about it – eh? How’s that for a challenge?’

  ‘Okay. Two extra weeks.’

  ‘What? I can’t possibly—’

  ‘You heard me,’ interrupted Jack, ‘two extra weeks.’

  Silence.

  ‘You’re a tough bastard,’ said Rebecca.

  ‘No, I’m not. I’m an incorrigible rascal – remember?’

  ‘Oh, for Christ’s sake. All right, two weeks it is. Incidentally, is she pretty?’

  ‘Who? Lola?’

  ‘No, your new flatmate.’

  ‘You are well informed,’ said Jack, sounding a little sheepish.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes. Looking after you is my job, Jack. Now go and tell Lola you’ll do it and keep me posted. I’m dying to find out what this is all about.’

  ‘You’re not the only one,’ said Jack and hung up.

  ‘I’m intrigued,’ said Jack, walking back into the room. ‘How did you know?’ He looked at Lola and held up his phone.

  ‘I’m only the messenger,’ replied Lola, sidestepping the question.

  ‘Some messenger.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Give me ten minutes,’ said Jack.

  ‘To think about it?’

  ‘No, to pack.’

  14

  Strapped into his seat behind Lola, Jack watched her prepare the jet for take-off. Fascinated by her ability to manipulate the aircraft’s sophisticated controls, he listened to the instructions coming from the traffic control tower as the jet taxied slowly along the runway. With excitement and a little fear churning in his stomach, Jack felt like a co-pilot sitting in a fighter plane ready to take off and roar into battle. A few moments after the A380 in front of them had disappeared into the night, Traffic Control gave Pegasus permission to take off.

  ‘Here we go,’ said Lola, her hand on the throttle.

  Jack had never before experienced such power in an aircraft. Pressed into his seat by the breathtaking acceleration of the jet, Jack felt a great sense of exhilaration gripping every fibre of his tense body. It was a wonderful feeling of being free. ‘Wow!’ Jack cried out, gripping the arms of his seat as the plane left the ground and rapidly began to climb.

  As soon as the plane had reached cruising altitude and levelled out, Lola turned to the co-pilot sitting next to her. ‘Okay, Joe, she’s all yours,’ she said, getting out of her seat. Jack did the same and followed Lola into the spacious cabin behind the cockpit.

  ‘That was some ride,’ said Jack, still on a high. ‘You are full of surprises.’

  ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it. Isis has two planes: Icarus, a big one for The Time Machine – crew and all – and then there’s Pegasus here, her own private little beauty. It’s one of the fastest and most powerful civilian aircraft in the world.’

  ‘And you can fly it like a Top Gun. I’m impressed.’

  Smiling, Lola shrugged. ‘I never miss the take-off. I don’t get the chance to fly that often any more. Would you like some supper? We have some great food on board,’ she said, ‘and you’ll get to meet Hanna …’

  ‘This is Hanna, my assistant,’ said Lola, introducing the young woman busying herself in the galley. ‘She makes a splendid vodka martini; would you like one?’ Jack noticed that the little dining table in front of the galley had been set for three, and a drinks trolley complete with ice bucket and flowers was standing next to it. Apart from the two pilots and the engineer in the cockpit, there was no one else on board.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Hanna comes from Israel,’ said Lola, watching Jack’s body language, well aware of the effect Hanna had on men. ‘She’s fluent in five languages. Mandarin, Russian and Japanese are her forte. She’s invaluable when we’re on tour.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ said Jack. What a stunner, he thought, watching Lola’s assistant prepare his drink. Hanna had the classic looks of a catwalk model. Tall and slim, in her early twenties, she moved with an elegance and grace that was both enchanting, and exciting. Her short leather skirt, zippered at the front, showed off her long legs, and her waist-long, honey-honey blonde hair provided the perfect contrast to her olive complexion. But most striking of all were her blue eyes: almond-shaped and set a little too far apart, they gave her face an alluringly exotic look.

  ‘Thanks for coming along, Jack,’ said Lola, lifting her glass, ‘and without having to be dragged. You made my mission easy.’

  Smiling, Jack lifted his own glass. ‘I’m not quite sure what I’ve let myself in for,’ he said, ‘but somehow, I seem to attract the unexpected. And besides, certain things are meant to be.’

  ‘I know. I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.’

  What Lola couldn’t have known was that the real reason behind Jack’s quick decision and willingness to cooperate had nothing to do with her intriguing offer, or the arm-twisting from his publishers, or Rebecca’s urging to go along with it all. The reason was Tristan.

  Remembering Tristan’s prophetic words – you and Isis are destined to meet – Jack watched Lola sitting opposite. The silver studs in her ears, her thin, yet deceptively strong and athletic body and the sultry look on her expressive face reminded him of Stieg Larsson’s Lisbeth in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, only a little older. The lines on her face speak of suffering and loss, thought Jack, looking into her huge, dreamy eyes, radiating intelligence and danger. ‘Where did you learn to fly like that?’ he asked.

  ‘Sitting on my dad’s lap in his biplane when I was about twelve,’ replied Lola.

  ‘You’re kidding.’

  ‘No. My father was an instructor in San Diego. Once flying gets into your blood, it never leaves you.’

  ‘But you are a personal assistant to a rock star,’ remarked Jack.

  ‘It hasn’t always been that way. I taught Isis how to fly. She’s as passionate about flying as I am. She can fly this little baby like a pro. I gave her flying lessons; that’s how we met. Then she bought her first plane and I became her pilot. That was about ten years ago and things went from there.’

  ‘I have a confession to make,’ said Jack, enjoying the company of the two fascinating women. With the martinis beginning to kick in, he started to relax.

  ‘A confession? Already?’

  ‘I know very little about Isis and The Time Machine …’

  ‘Don’t feel too bad about it. The average age of our fan base is seventeen. I didn’t think heavy metal would be quite your thing. You strike me more as a B&B.’

  ‘A B&B? What’s that?’

  ‘A Bach and Beethoven man.’

  ‘I do like that,’ replied Jack, laughing. ‘I’ve been called many things, but never anything quite so classy. But seriously, I would appreciate a little help …’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I would like to know a little more about Isis and The Time Machine before I meet the star.’

  ‘Did you hear that, Hanna? How would you describe Isis?’

  ‘You are about to meet one of the most fascinating, talented, colourful, flamboyant, generous, and most importantly, incredibly intelligent persons on the planet,’ said Hanna, handing Jack another martini.

  ‘That’s quite an introduction. Didn’t you say that the average age of the fan base was seventeen?’ said Jack, turning to Lola.

  ‘Yes, yes, I know … I’m one of her biggest fans,’ said Lola, ‘and I was seventeen about twenty years ago. She’s al
so impulsive, unpredictable and occasionally exasperatingly outrageous. That’s why being with her is so much fun; it’s never boring. Let me give you an example …’ Lola paused and looked at Jack. She rarely felt at ease around men but to her surprise, not only did she find Jack incredibly attractive, she felt as if she had known him for years. It was a disconcerting realisation for someone who preferred the company of women.

  ‘After we finished our flying lessons, Isis went on tour and I didn’t really expect to hear from her again. Then early one morning, out of the blue, I received a phone call from her, asking me to come to Paris. She wanted to go shopping … for a plane!’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I dropped everything, flew from San Diego to Paris and we bought the plane at an air show.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘Yes. Here we were, two women on our own, dressed a little unconventionally as I remember – she was wearing her Greta Garbo outfit and I looked a bit like a rocker-chick in my bomber jacket – strolling arm in arm among all these corporate types looking at multimillion-dollar planes. I asked all the questions, which as you can imagine were quite technical and specific, until we found a plane she really liked. She told the sales team that she wanted to buy it. At first, no one took us seriously and they all laughed. But when she pulled out her chequebook, the penny dropped; they suddenly realised who was hiding behind the dark glasses, and everything changed. You should have seen them! Isis enjoyed herself. She likes to shock people. She offered me a job then and there and I became her personal pilot.’

  ‘That’s quite a story,’ said Jack. ‘I can’t wait to meet her.’

  ‘There is one more important thing you have to know about her,’ said Lola, lowering her voice.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Isis is a man. At least she was born a man, George Elms, son of Lord and Lady Elms …’

  ‘Transgender?’ said Jack, surprised.

  ‘It’s more complicated than that—’

  ‘You won’t be disappointed,’ interrupted Hanna, clearing the table. ‘You’ll see when you meet her.’ As she brushed past him, Jack could smell her perfume. ‘Chanel,’ he said. ‘You’re wearing Chanel.’