The Hidden Genes of Professor K

by Gabriel Farago

  ‘For entirely different reasons, Señora Gonzales also suspects that there is a lot more behind the murders. When she learns about her daughter’s hidden letters, her last words to Isis, and especially that crystal skull, her worst fears are confirmed: The past is closing in.

  ‘But what exactly does that mean? What are those hidden corners of her life she keeps referring to? By talking to her friend, Anastasia Petrova, I discovered a great deal about those hidden corners. I found out what happened at the Ritz during the war. It all began with the scandal of the crystal skull and ended with Señora Gonzales being abandoned by the dashing German officer who held her fate in his hands. Not only was Sturmbannfuehrer Wolfgang Steinberger her lover and the father of her illegitimate child, he was the one who so ruthlessly took that child from her, never to be seen, or heard of again.’

  Jack paused again and looked at Señora Gonzales watching him intently. She couldn’t take her eyes off him and was hanging on his every word. ‘Until now,’ added Jack quietly. ‘I believe that I have found out what happened after Steinberger left Paris with the baby and the crystal skull. I know what happened to the child and how all of this is connected to the Elms murders. Would you like me to continue, Señora?’ asked Jack.

  For a long moment, Señora Gonzales looked at Isis sitting next to her and then nodded her head.

  ‘Very well,’ said Jack. ‘Some of you may find what I’m about to tell you difficult to believe, but the truth is the truth, whichever way we look at it. The past cannot be changed, nor can the truth be denied. I was approached by Isis to find out what happened to her parents, and I agreed to do just that.’ Jack pointed to his notebook on the table in front of him. ‘I believe I have the answers right here,’ he said.

  ‘As Señora Gonzales correctly suspected, those answers are inextricably intertwined with people and events of the past. Her past. What happened at the Ritz during those dramatic days during the war, set a chain of events in motion that marched on relentlessly for decades, and sent ripples of discord far into the future, with tragic consequences that will surprise and shock you.’ Jack looked at Isis. He was trying to gauge her reaction, but couldn’t see any.

  ‘However, this discovery wasn’t without danger and it did come at a price,’ he continued. ‘The ferryman has to be paid. Always. Dr Rosen, Lola and I almost lost our lives in Somalia a few days ago.’ Jack didn’t mention Tristan because he didn’t want to frighten the countess. ‘Several people died along the way, some in horrific circumstances. The forces of destiny are most powerful and cannot be resisted. Their reach is as long as their memory is relentless. At best, we can only hope to understand them and try to make sense of what is happening, and why—’

  Jack was interrupted by a sudden commotion in front of him. Señora Gonzales pressed her right hand against her chest, her breathing laboured and heavy. Sir Humphrey rushed to her side. ‘Some water please,’ he said, and opened the top buttons of her blouse.

  Feeling better, Señora Gonzales looked at him gratefully and drank some water. ‘Angina,’ she whispered.

  ‘A little too much excitement …’ said Sir Humphrey, reaching for her wrist to feel her pulse.

  ‘I think another little break may be in order,’ said Jack.

  ‘Excellent idea,’ said the countess. ‘Coffee everyone?’

  107

  The countess went to the conservatory at the back of the chateau, which she had converted into a studio for Anna, to see if Boris would like some coffee. When she opened the glass door, Tolstoy, her Labrador came to greet her. The countess stopped, patted her dog on the head and took in the remarkable scene.

  Anna stood in front of her easel, painting as usual. Billy, her little boy, was fast asleep in his cot next to her. Tristan sat in the shadows, watching Boris play his balalaika. The familiar, melancholic folk tune reminded the countess of long Russian winters, and sleigh rides through the snow with her grandparents. The countess walked over to her daughter, looked at the painting and gasped. ‘Anna, how did you—?’

  Anna pointed to the iPad on the table next to her with a close-up of the crystal skull displayed on the illuminated screen.

  ‘It’s mine,’ said Tristan. ‘I took the photo and showed it to Anna. She said the skull had soul.’

  ‘Amazing, darling,’ said the countess, stroking Anna’s short hair. ‘You’ve certainly captured its soul.’

  ‘You think so, Mama?’ said Anna, looking at the countess. ‘It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen, or touched.’

  ‘You saw it?’

  ‘Yes. Jack showed it to me this afternoon and told me its story. It came out of the jungle. A long time ago, as a gift from the gods. I’m painting the story – see? Tristan asked me to paint it. A gift for Isis …’

  Boris stopped playing and walked over to the countess. ‘Tristan saw something disturbing,’ he said quietly. ‘Just before you came in.’

  ‘Oh? What?’

  ‘Why don’t you ask him?’

  The countess looked at Tristan. ‘What did you see?’ she asked.

  Tristan seemed reluctant to answer. ‘Death,’ he said, a troubled look on his face.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Right here.’

  The countess felt a cold shiver race down her spine. ‘Nonsense,’ she said. ‘You’ve been looking at the crystal skull here a little too closely, I suspect.’

  ‘I felt it too,’ said Anna calmly, and applied some more green paint to the jungle plants forming the exotic background in the striking picture. Illuminated by a shaft of sunlight from above, a naked man wearing a spectacular headdress made of coloured feathers held up the crystal skull to the light with both hands, like an offering to the gods.

  Anna stepped back from the easel. ‘The skull needs more work,’ she said. ‘The eye sockets look dead, yet when I touched them they felt very much alive. They were telling me things … You don’t need eyes to see. I have to give it more soul, don’t you think?’

  The countess knew her daughter lived in a world of her own. This was especially so when she painted. Most of the time only Tristan could communicate with her, but on a different level. Remarkably, they did this without speaking. He and Anna had a special bond.

  The countess realised it was time to leave. ‘Don’t stay up too late,’ she said, and kissed Anna on the cheek. ‘And that goes for you too, young man.’

  Someone will die tonight, thought Tristan. Anna heard him and nodded ever so slightly. ‘We won’t, Mama,’ she said, and resumed work on the skull.

  Señora Gonzales appeared to have recovered her composure and was looking expectantly at Jack. ‘Before we can go any further, Sir Charles has something to tell you,’ said Jack. ‘Charles, please …’

  Sir Charles walked up to the TV screen so that everyone could see him and stood next to Jack. ‘Jack will shortly talk to you about Lady Elms’ last words – “Stars, hide your fires” – and what they mean,’ began Sir Charles. ‘A number of high-ranking civil servants in Her Majesty’s Government put their careers and reputations on the line to help us find out what those words represented. The tragic murder of Lord and Lady Elms involves matters of national security at the highest level, implicating certain people in high places.

  ‘One man in particular, a close friend of mine, was instrumental in passing classified information to me, which helped us find out what happened to Lord and Lady Elms, and why. This was discovered by MI5. Jack and I met with the man in charge of Her Majesty’s Secret Service after Jack’s spectacular press conference the other day, which appears to have, well, spooked the spooks …

  ‘We gave an undertaking not to disclose any of the information we’ve uncovered regarding Lord and Lady Elms’ murders to anyone except those in this room, and that includes our friends in Australia. However, we are only permitted to do this if all of you respect the undertaking Jack and I have given. Any breach could have serious consequences. Not only would several people be severely compromised and their
careers shattered, but a number of them, including my friend, would go to jail for a very long time. Needless to say, my own reputation and future are on the line here. So, before Jack can continue, we would ask each of you to give us your word you will not disclose any of this to anyone, especially the press. May I assume that this is acceptable?’

  Everyone nodded and mumbled their agreement.

  ‘Over to you, Jack,’ said Sir Charles, and went back to his seat.

  ‘I will now tell you an extraordinary tale spanning more than seventy years,’ said Jack. He looked at Señora Gonzales. ‘The story begins in Paris in 1942. Sturmbannfuehrer Steinberger and his brother, Erwin, leave Paris together and take Señora Gonzales’ baby and the notorious crystal skull here with them.’ Jack pointed to the crystal skull on the table in front of him. ‘Señora Gonzales is left behind to fend for herself and her young daughter, Mercedes. The baby is taken in by Dr Steinberger and his wife, Greta – a childless couple who live in Vienna – and brought up as their own. The boy is given a name – Siegfried – and the necessary papers are arranged by his father. Siegfried becomes part of the family.

  ‘Then, something really interesting happens,’ continued Jack. ‘Dr Steinberger joins the infamous Dr Mengele in Auschwitz and together, they carry out medical experiments using prisoners in the death camp. Dr Steinberger is particularly interested in twins, and cancer—’

  ‘This is unbelievable!’ interrupted Alexandra.

  ‘I’m sorry. What is?’ asked Jack, glancing at the TV screen.

  ‘Dr Simon Kozakievicz, Professor K’s father was there too! At the same time. Working with Mengele in Auschwitz!’

  Stunned silence.

  ‘How do you know this?’ asked Jack, surprised.

  ‘It’s all in a letter Professor K left me. I have it right here. Wait …’ Alexandra hurried to her room and returned with the letter moments later. She held it up to the camera to show the signature. ‘Let me tell you what it says …’

  Alexandra quickly summarised Professor K’s letter with all the surprising revelations. She told them how his father survived the war and went to live in Switzerland after the liberation of Auschwitz, to work for a pharmaceutical company. She spoke about his research, his second marriage and his new family. She explained how his son, Kasper, followed in his father’s footsteps and carried on his work in cancer research and became one of the leading scientists in his field.

  ‘Serendipity,’ said Jack quietly, shaking his head. ‘This is a night full of surprises. Now let me tell you what happened to Dr Steinberger and his family after the war. They went to Italy and spent the next year hiding in a monastery in Rome under the protection of the Catholic Church. Wolfgang was there too and prepared the way for their escape and new lives abroad.’

  ‘We discovered all that during the Newman trial,’ interjected Carrington, who had been listening intently. ‘Wolfgang had access to Nazi money in Switzerland and arranged the escape of many high-ranking SS officers, especially to South America. Anton Hoffmeister was one of them. Wolfgang himself travelled to Australia as Erich Neumueller, and began a new life in Adelaide with help from the Vatican. He later changed his name to Eric Newman and became a successful banker.’

  ‘And his brother, Erwin, went to live in Kenya under the name Van Der Hooven. He bought a farm just outside Nairobi,’ continued Jack, ‘and established a clinic there. However, this was no ordinary clinic. He continued to carry out medical experiments on sick natives. He was testing certain drugs – without their knowledge or consent, of course – just as he had done in Auschwitz.’

  ‘What happened to the boy?’ asked Señora Gonzales quietly.

  ‘He grew up on the farm. A very handsome boy, apparently, who spent a lot of time with the natives in the bush. All went well until 1960. Then disaster struck.’

  ‘What happened?’ asked Señora Gonzales, her voice quivering and faint.

  Jack held up the copy of the postcard from Nairobi. ‘Here, listen to this,’ he said. ‘This postcard was sent by Erwin’s wife, Greta, to Anton Hoffmeister in Buenos Aires. It is dated 25th October 1960:

  “Dear Anton

  I have sad news. Life has taken a dark turn. Erwin was killed by the Mau Mau at the farm last week. We don’t know exactly what happened, but the farm and the clinic have been burnt to the ground. Siegfried is safe and staying with me here in Nairobi. These are troubling times. I don’t know yet what we are going to do, but at least we have the lodge. Siegfried is strong and a great support.”

  ‘It’s signed “Greta”,’ said Jack. ‘After this, Hoffmeister lost contact with Greta and her son. But the picture on the postcard here provided a valuable clue.’ Jack pointed to the house on the front of the postcard. ‘Mukuyu Lodge,’ he said. ‘That’s where I picked up the Van Der Hooven trail in Nairobi and found out something extraordinary about Siegfried. His affair with—’

  Jack was interrupted by the sound of someone opening the door at the back. It was Boris, a little out of breath and with a puzzled look on his face. Everyone turned around to look at him.

  ‘Please forgive the intrusion, Countess,’ said Boris, looking quite embarrassed, ‘but you should come and see this.’ Jack and the countess excused themselves and followed Boris out of the room.

  108

  The countess could hear her dog barking well before they reached the conservatory. Boris held the door open and let her and Jack walk inside. Anna stood exactly where she had left her just a short while ago: in front of her easel, painting. Tristan stood next to her, looking intently at the painting with Tolstoy barking excitedly behind him.

  ‘Shh, Tolly,’ said the countess, trying to calm the excited dog. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘You’ve just missed it,’ said Anna without taking her eyes off the painting.

  ‘Missed what?’ asked Jack.

  ‘The skull was glowing … telling me how to give it soul.’

  The countess looked at Jack and shrugged. ‘You don’t say,’ she said.

  ‘It really did. I saw it just now,’ said Tristan. ‘And this plant here took on a peculiar shape – look, like a heart.’ Tristan pointed to the painting. ‘This is it here.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Anna. ‘And all I had to do is paint what I saw, and then the glowing stopped because I got it right – see?’

  ‘Really?’ said the countess, shaking her head.

  ‘I saw it too,’ said Boris. ‘It happened exactly as she says …’

  ‘Tolly saw it as well and got quite excited, didn’t you boy?’ said Tristan. He turned around and patted the dog’s head. Tolstoy sat and nuzzled up against his thigh.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that, Jack. I know what you’re thinking. It happened …’ said Tristan.

  ‘I believe you,’ said Jack, ‘but not all of us can see what you can.’

  ‘I know,’ said Tristan, ‘but Anna can, and so can Boris.’

  ‘Painting looks great,’ said Jack, changing the subject.

  ‘You like it?’ said Anna.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘What do you like about it?’

  ‘It’s got soul,’ said Jack.

  Anna turned around. ‘You’re teasing me,’ she said and dabbed Jack on the cheek with her brush, leaving a little green dot behind.

  ‘Does this mean I’ll glow in the dark now?’

  ‘Only if you turn into a skull.’

  ‘No chance.’

  ‘Philistine.’

  Jack turned to the countess. ‘Let’s go back. Philistines are obviously not welcome here,’ he said, laughing, and headed for the door.

  ‘What did you make of all that?’ asked the countess on their way back to the music room.

  ‘Not sure. All I know is that Anna and Tristan have a special gift, and a unique bond. They are spiritual beings. I would never dismiss what they say, or see for that matter, as nonsense.’

  ‘Thanks, Jack.’

  ‘Does that help?’

  ‘A little.’
>
  ‘Anna looks well.’

  ‘She’s getting better; day by day,’ said the countess. ‘The treatment in the Paris clinic has done wonders. We are grateful for that. She’s back home now.’

  ‘You think this was weird? Wait until you hear what I’m about to tell them in there,’ said Jack and opened the door for the countess. ‘It will make a glowing skull pale into insignificance.’

  ‘Can’t wait.’

  ‘What happened?’ asked Sir Charles as Jack and the countess walked back into the room.

  ‘Storm in a teacup,’ said Jack. ‘Sorry about the interruption. I was telling you about Mukuyu Lodge and how I managed to pick up the Van Der Hooven trail again in Nairobi.’

  Jack looked at Isis. ‘I thought very carefully about this again. What I’m about to say now will affect you, Isis, most of all, but your grandmother as well. Profoundly. Things will get very personal, I’m afraid, and could be quite upsetting. So, I must ask again. Would you like me to continue, or would you like to talk to me privately first?’

  ‘Please go on,’ said Isis. ‘Everyone here has been part of the journey so far and deserves to know. Are you comfortable with this, Mamina?’

  ‘I am,’ said Señora Gonzales.

  ‘You have your answer, Jack,’ said Isis.

  ‘So be it. After her husband’s murder and the sacking of their farm and the clinic by the Mau Mau, Greta went to live at Mukuyu Lodge in Nairobi with Siegfried. Their lodge was very popular, especially with the British, and Siegfried, an accomplished hunter and guide, took wealthy tourists on safari. The Van Der Hooven safaris were legendary and Mukuyu Lodge was the social hub of Nairobi and the safari capital of the world at the time.

  ‘This was another clue. Señora Gonzales had previously told me that Lord Elms had one great passion: big game hunting. As it turned out, he had been a regular visitor to Kenya for years, and always stayed at Mukuyu Lodge when going on safari. Another piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. Suddenly, a picture began to emerge, and the letters Isis found at Clarendon Hall began to make sense.’