Jack held up a bundle of papers. ‘These are all love letters. Any reference to the sender’s identity – like a name, or an address – had been carefully removed, except for a few subtle clues. However, there can be no doubt that these letters were sent to Lady Elms by her lover.’
Jack paused and ran his fingers through his hair. He was preparing himself for what came next.
‘A few months after Erwin Steinberger was killed, Lord Elms visited again. This time, however, he didn’t come alone. He brought his lovely new wife, Mercedes, with him. As soon as Siegfried and Mercedes set eyes on each other, it was love at first sight,’ said Jack quietly. ‘And not just any love, but a passion that appeared to overwhelm and consume them both.’
‘No! This cannot be!’ cried Señora Gonzales. ‘You must be mistaken! My daughter and her …’ Stony-faced, Isis squeezed her grandmother’s hand, but didn’t say anything.
‘Yes, half-brother,’ Jack cut in. ‘Your son. A cruel, ironic twist of fate, perhaps, but true nevertheless. And it doesn’t stop there, I’m afraid,’ Jack pressed on. ‘There’s more to come … much more.’
Now that some of the most devastating cards were on the table, Jack thought it best to reveal the whole pack. Quickly and accurately, so as not to prolong the pain this was certain to cause.
He spoke of the young lovers’ reckless affair, right under the nose of Lord Elms, the proud, newlywed husband. He explained when and how the love letters originated and why they were sent. ‘It might have ended there,’ said Jack, ‘if Lord Elms hadn’t returned to Nairobi for another safari. But that was exactly what he did later the same year. And this was, of course, what the young lovers had been pining for. The letters clearly reflect that. They resumed their affair with reckless abandon and became careless.
‘Then the inevitable happened: the affair was discovered by Lord Elms, resulting in a huge scandal the whole of Nairobi was talking about. To escape his wrath, the young lovers went bush. Literally speaking. Determined to get his young wife back and avoid the ultimate humiliation of losing her, Lord Elms mounted a search party and went after them.’
Jack paused, the silence in the room deafening.
‘How did you discover all this?’ asked Isis, her voice hoarse.
‘From eyewitnesses and other reliable sources.’
‘An accurate account then?’
‘I believe so—’
‘What happened to them?’ interrupted Señora Gonzales, finding it difficult to breathe.
‘The search party found them hiding in a native village in the bush. Lord Elms brought his wife back to Nairobi and immediately returned to England.’
‘And Siegfried?’ asked Carrington, who had been following the extraordinary revelations with great interest.
‘This is where accounts differ and the story becomes a little vague,’ said Jack. ‘Apparently, he was caught by the Elms search party, savagely beaten and left for dead. Some thought he had been killed, but no one I spoke to was absolutely sure. Despite his mother’s desperate attempts to find out what happened to him, Siegfried Van Der Hooven vanished and was never heard of again. Greta Van Der Hooven died soon after, and the Van Der Hooven name and fortune disintegrated and sank into obscurity.’
‘Was that the end of it?’ asked Carrington.
‘Far from it. In many ways, it was just the beginning. The beginning of a new, tragic chapter with far-reaching consequences.’ Jack looked at Señora Gonzales. ‘Did you know any of this?’ he asked. Señora Gonzales shook her head. ‘Then what I’m about to tell you will shock you even more. When Mercedes returned to England with her estranged husband, she discovered she was pregnant—’
‘Oh my God!’ cried Señora Gonzales. She pulled a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and pressed it against her mouth.
Sir Charles turned to Sir Humphrey. ‘This is incredible,’ he said. ‘If—’
‘Are you suggesting that Siegfried was the father?’ Isis interrupted, articulating the question on everyone’s mind.
‘Yes,’ said Jack. ‘You see, the reason no children came along during the first two years of the marriage was due to one simple fact: Lord Elms was impotent—’
‘How do you know this?’ interrupted Isis.
‘Sir Humphrey confirmed …’
Isis kept staring vacantly into space as the implications of what she had just heard began to sink in. Suddenly, many things that had happened during her childhood and teenage years began to fall into place and make sense. The cold, estranged relationship between her parents; the often cruel, distant father; the doting mother, showering her with love; boarding school from an early age …
Jack sensed the growing tension in the room and decided to press on as quickly as possible and reveal all.
‘You may remember I told you at the beginning that there were three separate parts to this story. All related to what happened just before Lady Elms died. So far, you’ve heard about the letters. Now I must tell you about this here.’ Jack pointed to the crystal skull.
‘Well aware of the rumours regarding Siegfried and what had happened to him after he was caught, Mercedes was certain he had been killed. Pregnant, and desperately unhappy, she resumed her life as Lady Elms at Clarendon Hall. To avoid a humiliating scandal and hide his embarrassing impotency, Lord Elms decided to bring up the child as his own. A divorce was unthinkable. No one was to know the child wasn’t his. A healthy boy, George, was born. From then on, Lord and Lady Elms effectively lived separate lives.’
Jack turned towards the TV screen, certain that Carrington would be hanging on his every word. ‘This brings me to the second part of my investigation,’ he said, ‘the crystal skull. So, where does it fit into all this? Hoffmeister told us that Wolfgang Steinberger had it with him in Rome and gave it to his brother when they parted company in Italy and went their separate ways. It was something that belonged to the boy, he told his brother, and should be given to him one day. That day came when Erwin was killed. Greta gave the precious skull to Siegfried to remind him of his father. It became a distraught boy’s most treasured possession.
‘The next part is a little speculative,’ continued Jack, ‘but we can safely assume that Siegfried would have shown his precious skull to Mercedes at Mukuyu Lodge. She must have been aware of it and known what it represented and what it meant to her lover. Why? Because of what happened next.
‘A few years later, Lady Elms received an anonymous parcel. It contained only one item.’ Jack pointed to the crystal skull on the table next to him. ‘A beautiful wooden box with the crystal skull inside; nothing else. No letter, not even a note; nothing. However, Lady Elms knew exactly what it meant. It was a sign, a message telling her that the father of her son was alive!’
‘Come on,’ interjected Carrington, the sceptical barrister in him unconvinced and demanding to know more. ‘How can you possibly know this is true and not just fanciful speculation?’
Jack turned back to the TV screen and dropped the bombshell. ‘Because the person who sent the parcel told me so himself,’ he said.
Stunned silence again.
‘Are you serious?’ said Carrington.
‘Absolutely. And this brings me to the third part of my investigation: “Stars, hide your fires”; Lady Elms’ ominous last words …’
I need a drink, thought Jack. He reached for his empty brandy balloon on the piano, and looked at François. François nodded and walked over to the sideboard to get the cognac bottle.
109
‘Throughout my investigation, I became more and more convinced of one thing,’ said Jack. ‘What Lady Elms told her son moments before she died was of the utmost significance and could provide the answer to what happened to her and her husband. As it turned out, this was correct. I’ve already told you about her letters and the crystal skull. That leaves only those cryptic words, “Stars, hide your fires”. What did they mean? Why had Lady Elms chosen those words as her last? Actually, it was Dr Rosen who provided the vital clue.
I will never forget that moment.’ Jack paused and looked at Señora Gonzales again, watching him intently.
‘We were sitting in front of Dr Rosen’s tent in Dadaab – the refugee camp in Kenya, near the Somali border – when I mentioned those words and speculated as to what they could mean.’ Jack turned to Dr Rosen. ‘Bettany, would you mind telling us what happened?’
‘Jack had just spoken to Sir Charles on the phone and received some important news regarding the Elms’ murder investigation in London—’
‘That’s correct,’ interrupted Jack. ‘Charles had just told me that he had met with a friend of his – a senior civil servant – who had provided some important confidential information regarding the Elms affair.’
‘Forgive me for interrupting,’ said Carrington, ‘but what exactly was that important information about?’
‘Charles told me that MI5 was convinced the Calabrian Mafia was behind the brutal attack.’
‘How can that possibly be?’ asked Isis.
‘At first, I asked myself the same question,’ said Jack, ‘but then things began to fall into place. Apparently, it all had to do with Lord Elms’ work. What he had been working on just before he died.’
‘Did you find out what that was?’ Carrington asked, unable to resist asking the question on everyone’s lips.
‘I did. Lord Elms was investigating pharmaceutical companies …’
‘And the Mafia was somehow interested in this?’ said Carrington, almost cross-examining Jack.
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because of something that happened in the past,’ said Jack. He looked at Dr Rosen. ‘Would you mind taking it from here, Bettany?’’
‘As I was saying before, Jack told me about Lady Elms’ final words, “Stars, hide your fires”, and pondered what they could possibly mean. That’s when I told him …’
‘Told him what?’ interjected Isis, confusion and impatience reflected in her voice.
‘That it was a famous quote from Shakespeare,’ said Dr Rosen. ‘“Stars, hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires”.’
‘And this was helpful?’ said Carrington, pursuing his would-be witness in the hypothetical witness box on the other side of the globe.
‘It sure was,’ said Jack, ‘because it gave me that all-important, final clue to make the connection.’
‘What connection?’ demanded Carrington.
‘Charles, would you mind answering that?’ said Jack.
‘Not at all. The quote is significant in two ways: first, where it comes from, and second, what it’s about.’
‘Please explain,’ said Isis quietly, shaking her head.
‘The quote is from Macbeth, and speaks about black and deep desires …’
‘I still don’t see the connection,’ said Carrington.
‘You will in a moment,’ said Jack. ‘Charles, please?’
‘All of Lord Elms’ projects had code names. It was a well-known, somewhat eccentric habit of his. Initially, his investigation was called Project Detego, which means something like “unmask” in Latin. Sometime later, however, it changed. He changed it to Stars, hide your fires. Why? Because he had unmasked the identity of the party he had been searching for. He was now investigating the affairs of a major international pharmaceutical company at the time he was killed. But which one, we didn’t know, until Lady Elms’ last words gave us a clue: Macbeth. Alistair Macbeth is synonymous with Blackburn Pharmaceuticals, the company Lord Elms was looking into.’
Stunned silence, again.
‘But even if all this is correct, where’s the connection?’ demanded Carrington, cutting to the chase.
‘The best way to answer that is by continuing Siegfried’s remarkable story,’ said Jack quietly. ‘You’ll remember he was left for dead somewhere in the bush near Nairobi after he was captured and beaten by Lord Elms’ thugs. However, after that, the trail went cold. No one seemed to know what really happened to him, until those breadcrumbs of fate I’ve been talking about showed me the way …’
‘Come on, Jack,’ prompted Carrington, unable to hide his impatience. ‘Please, just tell us.’
‘As you would have already guessed from what I told you about the crystal skull, Siegfried did, of course, survive and I know what happened to him. Why? Because I met him and he told me all about it himself—’
‘You met him! Is he alive?’ interrupted Señora Gonzales, her voice trailing off.
‘Forgive me, Señora, if I don’t answer that straight away,’ said Jack. ‘This story must be told a certain way. Siegfried suffered some dreadful injuries at the hands of Lord Elms’ men. Someone less fit and strong wouldn’t have survived. He was taken in by the natives of the village he had visited since childhood, and was slowly nursed back to health. However, this did come at a price, a high one. He became … a paraplegic—’
‘Good God!’ interrupted Señora Gonzales.
‘If this alone wasn’t amazing enough, what happened after is even more remarkable,’ continued Jack. ‘Siegfried knew he couldn’t show himself in Kenya, not even to his mother. The British authorities had closed ranks and hushed up the whole affair by colluding with all those involved to protect the Elms name and bury the truth, no questions asked. So, what did he do? He reinvented himself. He left Siegfried Van Der Hooven behind in the village, presumed dead, and with the help of his African friends, he made his way to Somalia and a new life. A truly astonishing one …’
Jack paused again, searching for the best way to break the next part of the story and looked at Señora Gonzales, the anguish on her face reflecting the pain of a desperate mother yearning to learn the fate of her lost child. Then he looked at Isis. This will change her life, he thought, I know it would change mine, and pulled the pin on his information grenade.
‘Siegfried changed his name. He became Alistair Macbeth, one of the most powerful and influential business tycoons of our time. The man who almost single-handedly built Blackburn Pharmaceuticals, the multinational giant, while sitting in a wheelchair.’
‘Incredible!’ said Carrington, shaking his head.
‘You are talking about my father, here?’ whispered Isis, looking dumbfounded and confused. She looked at Señora Gonzales sitting next to her, searching for answers, but couldn’t find any. She was just as stunned and stared stony-faced into the distance, trying to come to terms with what she had just heard.
‘It’s incredible, all right,’ said Jack. ‘But it doesn’t stop there.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Carrington.
‘Alistair Macbeth’s black and deep desires, were just that: black and deep …’
‘Please explain,’ said Jana.
‘Initially, Macbeth made a fortune out of the illegal dumping of toxic waste in Somalia. This was arranged and brokered by the Calabrian Mafia, the feared Ndrangheta. Several European countries desperate to solve the politically sensitive problem of toxic waste disposal which, incidentally, included radioactive material, were only too willing to deal with the Mafia – no questions asked – and pay handsomely for a convenient solution. A crime of expediency. And Macbeth was only too happy to provide that solution at the expense of a whole, impoverished and corrupt country and its hapless, desperately poor population. He then used his huge wealth to acquire pharmaceutical companies around the world until he had built up a vast conglomerate, which became Blackburn Pharmaceuticals, the giant we know today.’
‘And you met him, you say?’ said Carrington.
‘Yes.’
Jack then went on to describe what he and Dr Rosen had discovered in Somalia, the horrible, secret drug trials, their abduction in Nairobi and how they had ended up on the Calypso as Macbeth’s prisoners. ‘That’s when I confronted Macbeth and he told me all about his past.’
‘Why did he do that?’ asked Carrington.
‘Because he had us in his power, completely. I’m sure he was going to kill us and make us disappear, just as he had done with ma
ny others. He was a man who loved that power. The power over life and death. He played with us – like the Roman emperors played with the gladiators in the arena – by holding our lives in his hands. Like the evil Lord Dracula needed blood, Macbeth needed power to stay alive. He savoured every moment of telling me exactly who he was, and what he had done, and why. But he wasn’t alone. I too had something to tell him that put some big cracks into his private world. I showed him the Hoffmeister interview. But more on that later—’
‘I still don’t understand,’ interrupted Carrington. ‘How is all this connected to the Elms murders? Are you suggesting that Macbeth was somehow behind it?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Are you serious? Why?’
‘Because of those black and deep desires …’
‘Would you care to explain?’
‘I think Sir Charles could do this much better than I,’ said Jack. ‘Charles, would you mind?’
110
Sir Charles stood up, adjusted his bowtie and walked over to the TV screen so that everyone could see him. ‘All of you would have heard about the recent events that rocked Britain: the surprise resignation of David Huntington, the charismatic Labour leader?’ began Sir Charles. ‘You may also know that he was the clear front-runner in the upcoming elections and was tipped to become Britain’s next, and youngest ever, Prime Minister. I’m sure you are asking yourselves why I am telling you this. The reason is simple: David Huntington’s shock resignation is directly related to those black and deep desires Jack has been telling you about.’
Jana looked at Carrington sitting next to her. ‘Can you believe this, Marcus?’ she whispered.
Carrington shook his head. ‘This is better than Shakespeare,’ he whispered back, his eyes glued to the screen. ‘You could write a play …’
‘What I’m about to tell you,’ continued Sir Charles, ‘are some of those sensitive matters involving national security I spoke of earlier, and the reason I had to ask you to respect the undertaking Jack and I had to give in this murky affair to keep out of trouble. You will see in a moment just how sensitive and potentially explosive these matters really are.’ Sir Charles kept adjusting his bowtie, a nervous habit that somehow helped him focus when tackling difficult subjects.
The Hidden Genes of Professor K Page 52