The Hidden Genes of Professor K

by Gabriel Farago

  ‘This is amazing, Jack,’ said Dr Rosen, unable to take her eyes off the screen.

  ‘You pointed me in the right direction. We found Hoffmeister and money talked.’

  ‘My uncle, Erwin Van Der Hooven, here in Kenya? Incredible!’

  ‘The story rolls on,’ said Jack. ‘But then—’

  ‘Siegfried?’ interrupted Dr Rosen.

  ‘Yes. Once Lord Elms brought his wife back to Nairobi and they returned to England, the trail goes cold. You heard what Hoffmeister said. Only speculation and rumours. And it’s the same here. Not surprising, I suppose. Independence came soon after and everything changed. And besides, I can’t stay here any longer and dig around in the past.’

  ‘That’s it then?’

  ‘It would appear so.’

  ‘I’m surprised to hear you say that, Jack. Not like you.’

  Jack shrugged. ‘Perhaps it’s for the best. I was given some advice yesterday about all this.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘Let sleeping dogs lie.’

  ‘They can still wake up and bite you.’

  Jack closed his iPad. ‘True. I’ll keep that in mind. Kobo said we should stay inside and only go out if absolutely necessary. He was quite worried.’

  ‘This place is very basic. There’s no food here…’

  ‘We’ll go out and grab some dinner later. With Kobo. He’ll come round and pick us up.’

  Abuukar looked down the quiet street. He was watching the MSF building from across the road. Everything was in place; all he had to do was wait, and give the signal when the time came.

  It was almost dark when Kobo pulled up on his bike and went inside.

  ‘This is it, guys, you know what to do,’ said Abuukar to one of his men standing behind him. ‘Go!’

  A few minutes later, Dr Rosen came out of the building accompanied by Jack and Kobo, and began to walk slowly down the street.

  Abuukar raised his right hand. Within seconds, a scooter turned into the street followed by a dark van. As the scooter approached Dr Rosen, it appeared to hit the kerb, went into a spin and fell over. A girl was lying on the road, moaning. The dark van stopped behind her and the driver got out to have a look. Jack and Dr Rosen ran towards the girl, followed by Kobo. As Dr Rosen bent down to render assistance, three men jumped out of the back of the van.

  Abuukar stepped out of the shadows, pressed his gun into Kobo’s back and pulled Kobo’s Glock out of his belt. ‘I always wanted one of these,’ he whispered in Kobo’s ear in Somali. ‘Stand quite still and do exactly as I tell you, understood?’ Kobo nodded. ‘Watch.’

  It was over within a few seconds. Jack was hit over the head from behind and dragged into the back of the van. One of the other men pulled a sack over Dr Rosen’s head, picked her up like a ragdoll and carried her into the van. The driver jumped back behind the wheel and sped off. Uninjured, the girl stood up slowly, got on the scooter and disappeared down the dark street.

  ‘Now I’ll tell you exactly what I want you to do,’ said Abuukar to Kobo. ‘You’ll wait here for fifteen minutes. Then you’ll walk into the police station around the corner you appear to know so well and report what you’ve just seen. You’ll tell them that you were held at gunpoint and made to watch as Dr Rosen and her journalist friend were abducted by Al-Shabaab. That’s all. Understood?’ Kobo nodded again. ‘After that, I suggest you forget all about this and get on with your life. Clear?’ Kobo nodded.

  ‘Sorry about your dog,’ said Abuukar, and remember, we are watching you. It would be a real shame to see a smart boy like you get hurt. Fifteen minutes.’ Abuukar withdrew his gun and disappeared into the shadows.

  ‘Well done,’ said Johannes, who had observed everything standing in a doorway close by. ‘Take them straight across the border and meet me at the airfield; clear?’

  Abuukar nodded. ‘No problem.’

  ‘All going well, we should be in Mogadishu in the morning, and Al-Shabaab in all the headlines around the world.’

  75

  Al Jazeera was the first to broadcast the sensational news. Tipped off by local police, the Al Jazeera correspondent stationed in Nairobi filed his report during the night. By the next morning, the news was already racing around the globe:

  Terrorists kidnap world-renown doctor in Nairobi, read the headline. World-renown surgeon and philanthropist, Dr Bettany Rosen, head of the Rosen Foundation, and international best-selling author, Jack Rogan, were abducted at gunpoint last night, only metres from a Nairobi police station. Al-Shabaab, a Somali terrorist group, has claimed responsibility for the brazen abduction that has shocked the world and sent shivers of fear across Nairobi …

  Pegasus was travelling high above the Indian Ocean on course for Nairobi. Lola was sitting at her desk and Tristan was asleep in the back of the cabin. Lola first saw the headline as a newsflash on her laptop. Not trusting her eyes, she turned first to CNN, and then to the BBC. Both carried the same story. Details were sketchy, but the gist of the report was the same: Jack and Dr Rosen appeared to have been abducted in Nairobi by Al-Shabaab during the night.

  ‘Good God,’ mumbled Lola, running her fingers through her hair. ‘What a disaster!’ Lola closed her laptop and went to the cockpit to find out exactly where they were. The plane was due to land in Nairobi in just under three hours.

  Suddenly, Lola felt terribly alone. She had just spoken to Hanna in Boston. Isis was in Dr Greenberg’s clinic being prepared for her big operation. Sir Humphrey had arrived from London and was at her side. At least that was good news, thought Lola. With no one else to turn to, she knew she was on her own. Lola sat at her desk and stared blankly out of the small window. Her mind racing, she was trying to come to terms with what had just happened and how to deal with the crisis.

  Woken by something, Tristan had been watching Lola for a while. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, sensing Lola’s unease. Lola walked over to him and sat down on the edge of his bunk. ‘Please listen carefully,’ she said. ‘You and I will have to be strong and deal with this.’ Lola then told Tristan what she had just heard on the news.

  Tristan listened calmly without interrupting. ‘I sensed something like this might happen,’ he said after Lola had finished, ‘but I refused to accept it. How foolish of me.’ Tristan saw the distress on Lola’s face and reached for her hand. ‘Don’t worry, as your new co-pilot, I will not let you down. Now, please turn on the news and we’ll watch it again together. We must find out everything we can about what happened before we arrive in Nairobi and decide what to do.’

  Surprised by Tristan’s measured reaction to the dreadful news, Lola looked at him gratefully. The boy is taking control of the situation, she thought. How amazing. She no longer felt quite so alone.

  Macbeth found waiting always difficult. For a man used to being in control, it was torture. Unable to go to sleep, Macbeth was sitting outside in his wheelchair in the dark. Calypso was ploughing through the huge waves of the Indian Ocean on her way to Mogadishu, the relentless monotony adding to Macbeth’s frustration. If willpower alone could have propelled the vessel, they would have arrived days ago. As it was, there was still a long way to go.

  Macbeth looked again at his watch. They should have crossed the border by now, he thought. Johannes had sent a brief text message to the ship advising his boss that the abduction had gone off without a hitch and they were on their way to the Somali border. That was eight hours ago. Macbeth knew that the HAU plane was waiting at an airfield near the border and would take the subjects to Mogadishu. He also knew there were many things that could go wrong. Until he heard from Johannes that they had safely arrived at the HAU base, the mission wasn’t complete.

  Carlotta didn’t sleep either. She was sitting at her desk near the phone, waiting for Johannes’ call. Used to emergencies like this, she knew exactly what was expected of her – nerves of steel and the patience of an elephant. Carlotta had both.

  In the stillness of the night, the ringtone sounded more like an alarm
than the muted buzz it was. Johannes was reporting in.

  Carlotta hurried to Macbeth’s stateroom. As soon as she saw the open door leading to the deck, she knew her boss was outside. Hearing footsteps behind him, Macbeth turned the wheelchair around and faced his PA.

  ‘Johannes just called. Everything went according to plan,’ said Carlotta. ‘They are in Mogadishu.’

  ‘Thank you, Carlotta,’ said Macbeth. ‘Now get some sleep.’ Without saying another word, he turned his wheelchair around to face the heaving sea and kept watching the moonlit horizon, a sense of euphoria washing over him like an orgasm over newlyweds.

  76

  Jack had completely lost any sense of time. Exhausted and disorientated, he could barely move, the back of his head throbbing with excruciating pain. His hands and feet were swollen and hurting and the rope around his wrists and neck cut into his chafed skin, but worse by far was the raging thirst clawing at his parched throat.

  They had been on the go for days it seemed. People around him were speaking in a strange tongue he couldn’t understand. He couldn’t see them either because he had been blindfolded since regaining consciousness after the abduction. Bruised all over, Jack had been tossed around for hours in the back of the van. Then came a plane ride followed by another uncomfortable trip in a van. More bruises. Finally, Jack was being dragged along by the rope tied around his neck like an exhausted dog on a leash, about to be put down.

  Kobo was waiting impatiently for Pegasus to land. He knew every minute counted. His cousin had alerted him to the plane’s imminent arrival. It was just after sunrise when the sleek silver bird touched down in Nairobi and began to taxi towards the terminal.

  ‘Don’t worry; Kobo will meet us, you’ll see,’ said Tristan casually.

  ‘How can you be so sure?’ asked Lola, the anxiety in her voice obvious. ‘Perhaps he’s been taken too?’

  Tristan shrugged and kept preparing his duffel bag. ‘Just know.’

  Lola was desperately hoping for some news. The international news channels kept repeating the same story over and over without adding any further information or development. News teams from around the world were on their way to Nairobi to cover the sensational story and were already arriving in droves.

  As soon as the cabin door was opened, Kobo stepped inside. Gone was the broad, cheerful smile that had greeted them only a few days before. This time, the haunted look on his face confirmed Lola’s worst fears. ‘We have to talk,’ said Kobo, ‘before you go outside and speak to anyone. My cousin is giving us a little time before he comes on board to check your papers.’

  Kobo quickly recounted the abduction and what he had been instructed by Al-Shabaab to do. He also had some surprising news. ‘I just heard from Sharif, our contact in Somalia who took us to the camp. Jack would have mentioned him?’ he said.

  ‘The pirate? He did,’ said Lola.

  ‘He’s a bit more than that. Sharif was devastated by Dr Gaal’s murder and has vowed to avenge his friend. He’s very well-connected in Somalia, especially in the south. He has quite a following, with eyes and ears everywhere, even in Mogadishu. This could play into our hands—’

  ‘Does he know anything?’ interrupted Lola impatiently.

  ‘He does. As we suspected, Jack and Dr Rosen were rushed across the border into Somalia. No surprises there, but what happened to them after that is interesting.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Apparently, they were taken to a disused airfield not far from the camp we visited the other day. The camp’s been completely destroyed; nothing left. An HAU plane was waiting there. That’s the interesting bit. This no longer has anything to do with Al-Shabaab, if in fact it ever did.’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’

  ‘The people who ran the camp are behind all this,’ interjected Tristan calmly, ‘that’s what it means. They’ve got Jack and Dr Rosen.’

  ‘He’s right,’ said Kobo. ‘They were taken by plane to Mogadishu.’

  ‘Do we know where they are now?’ Lola asked.

  ‘Sharif believes they are being held somewhere in the HAU compound near Mogadishu harbour. An isolated and heavily guarded place.’

  ‘In a lawless country,’ said Lola, shaking her head. Kobo shrugged.

  Tristan sat next to Lola with his eyes closed. ‘They are in a dark place,’ he said quietly. ‘There are no windows. They are alone … Fear …’

  ‘Where?’ said Lola, turning to Tristan. ‘What can you see?’

  Tristan opened his eyes. ‘Water. It’s close to water,’ he said.

  Lola ran her fingers nervously through her short hair. ‘What shall we do?’ she asked. ‘Any ideas? We are obviously wasting our time here.’

  ‘We should fly to Mogadishu, right away. Sharif has men there who can help us. But we have to act quickly. We must leave at once. I could come with you …’

  ‘What about entering Somalia? Wouldn’t that be a problem? Arriving in Mogadishu in a private plane like this?’ asked Lola.

  ‘My cousin can help us there,’ said Kobo, ‘and so can Sharif. But they need money … US dollars. That’s how things work in Somalia.’

  ‘We can do that. Let’s hear what your cousin has to say.’

  ‘I’ll get him,’ said Kobo.

  Jack could hear some kind of metal door creaking close by and felt the rope tighten around his neck. Someone was pulling him forward. Jack almost fell, but managed to regain his balance. Then the rope was removed, first from around his neck, then from his wrists. The door creaked again and appeared to close behind him with a dull thud.

  Silence.

  Jack began to rub is aching wrists. Then slowly, he removed the sweaty blindfold. Darkness. There was nothing to see, yet Jack sensed there was someone near him. ‘Anybody there?’ he said, his voice echoing through the chamber.

  ‘Yes,’ said Bettany, ‘it’s me.’ Jack could feel a hand touching him from behind. He turned around, reached out and embraced a trembling Dr Rosen.

  Moments later, a blinding flash of light banished the darkness. Still locked in an embrace, Jack and Bettany instinctively closed their eyes. Then, from somewhere above came a voice, sounding chilling and distant.

  ‘Investigating matters that don’t concern you can be very dangerous,’ said the voice, speaking in a heavy South African accent. ‘But then, you are no stranger to such matters, Mr Rogan, isn’t that so? And neither are you, Dr Rosen.’

  Slowly, one at a time, Jack opened his eyes and looked around, the bright light blurring his vision. They were standing in what looked like a metal box with a steel toilet in one corner. Jack guessed it was some kind of modified shipping container. Apart from two filthy mattresses on the rusty metal floor, the chamber was empty. A bright neon tube dangled from the ceiling, its harsh light bouncing off the polished steel walls like sparks from an anvil. The voice appeared to crackle through a speaker set somewhere into one of the walls.

  ‘Who are you?’ asked Jack.

  Laughter. ‘I’m the one who holds all the cards and tells you what to do.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘For now, patience will do nicely. Someone wants to meet you and talk about your notebook …’

  Ah … Mystery solved, thought Jack. The old man’s murder, the break-in and the abduction. All makes sense.

  Johannes was a master when it came to preparing subjects for interrogation. Uncertainty, disorientation and fear were his main tools. By the time his boss came face to face with the subjects, they would be ready and only too willing to cooperate and answer questions – truthfully. Johannes would make sure of that.

  ‘Who wants to meet me?’

  ‘You’ll find out soon enough. Until then, you’ll just have to enjoy my hospitality, I’m afraid.’

  More laughter. Then suddenly, the speaker went dead and the lights went out.

  77

  It was just before sunrise when Calypso dropped anchor in a small bay popular with local fishermen, a short distance
to the south of Mogadishu. For reasons of security, Macbeth didn’t like bringing the ship directly into the harbour. The long journey across the Indian Ocean from Australia had been quite rough, and the calm waters of the sheltered bay were a welcome change.

  While his extensive network of connections and generous bribes did provide some level of protection, in a volatile and dangerous country like Somalia, there were never any guarantees. A lawless place was always in flux, and no one knew that better than Macbeth, who had done business in that country for more than thirty years.

  The HAU compound was only a short speedboat ride away and could be reached within twenty minutes. Jan’s men were providing extra security by patrolling the decks of the Calypso day and night, and a zodiac with two armed guards was circling the ship at all times, allowing the men to keep an eye on the shore.

  Macbeth was waiting for Johannes in his stateroom. He had asked him to come on board as soon as possible to present his report. Macbeth had carefully studied Jack’s notebook and could hardly wait to meet the man who was so persistently prying into his past.

  Carlotta’s comprehensive research had given Macbeth a clear picture of Jack Rogan, the world-famous journalist and author, and Dr Rosen, the celebrated eye surgeon and tireless aid campaigner for the underprivileged poor in the Third World.

  Macbeth, a master manipulator, was used to controlling people by catching them off guard. He did this by showing them a little of just how much he knew about them and their affairs, and then kept them guessing about the rest. Uncertainty and fear can be powerful tools, which often loosened the tongue in the most unexpected ways. Interrogating people from a position of strength had always produced surprising results quickly, and Macbeth was certain that his meeting with Jack and Dr Rosen would go the same way.

  The material in Jack’s notebook was touching on subjects and raising questions Macbeth thought had been buried forever. Long forgotten ghosts came floating towards him out of the shadows, demanding answers and reaching out for justice and retribution. Somehow, Jack had succeeded in delving into Macbeth’s past life like no one else before. Many had tried, but none had succeeded. Macbeth was anxious to find out just how much Jack knew, and how he had managed to uncover so many of his carefully guarded secrets. For a man living in the shadows and obsessed with privacy, this was a major concern.