The Curious Case of the Missing Head

by Gabriel Farago

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Who would you use to carry out this assignment? You would need a team of experts to work on something like this, right?’

  Giordano turned to his son. ‘Alessandro, please tell our friend how you will go about this.’

  ‘We have access to a group of highly specialised freelance operators, originally from war-torn Kosovo,’ began Alessandro, pleased at finally being asked to contribute. ‘With lots of experience; very sophisticated. We have used them before and they have delivered every time. I can assure you; we can supply the necessary boots needed on the ground.’

  ‘So, what’s the next step?’

  ‘I will be in touch after we’ve assembled a suitable team; every day counts now. After that, I expect the operatives will contact you directly for further information and will keep you in the loop. They are very efficient and well connected.’ Alessandro paused and opened the door. ‘Absolute pros,’ he added, ‘with an outstanding track record.’

  Rodrigo looked impressed. ‘Thank you, gentlemen, that’s all I needed to hear,’ he said, and then shook hands with Giordano and his son, and walked to the waiting car.

  5

  New York: 9 April

  As promised, Alessandro had been in regular contact with Rodrigo since their meeting in Florence and had kept him up to date. Substantial progress appeared to have been made in a few short days, which gave Rodrigo confidence and allayed some of his fears that the project may be too ambitious, or that Giordano might have been carried away and somewhat hasty in agreeing to the deal.

  However, it had taken Alessandro less than twenty-four hours to engage a ‘team’ that was apparently already on the job, gathering vital intelligence about both the target and the venue. Alessandro had called Rodrigo late the night before to tell him that one of the team members would contact him the next day to clarify certain vital matters and to keep him informed of their progress. For the first time, Alessandro also disclosed the name of the team – Spiridon 4 – and indicated that team members would identify themselves by using that name.

  An early riser, Rodrigo arrived in his office at seven-thirty as usual. His PA, who had started an hour earlier, prepared his coffee – black and strong – just as he liked it. She was about to take the coffee into her boss’s office when her phone rang. It was the security guard downstairs, informing her that a young woman wanted to see Mr Rodrigo. Because the office didn’t open until eight-thirty, he would have to activate the lift and send her up to the floor.

  ‘We have no early appointments. Please ask her what she wants,’ said the PA, checking Rodrigo’s diary again.

  The security guard did as he was told and called back.

  ‘That’s all she said? How weird,’ said the PA. ‘Hold on, I won’t be a sec.’

  The PA put down the receiver and hurried into Rodrigo’s office. ‘There’s a woman downstairs with security, asking for you.’

  ‘Oh? Did she say what it was about?’

  ‘All she said was Spiridon 4 ...’

  ‘What?’ Rodrigo almost shouted. ‘Tell him to send her up straight away. I’ll meet her at the lift myself.’

  When Alessandro had said that someone from the team would contact him, Rodrigo certainly hadn’t expected that to mean in person. Standing at the lift, he watched the indicator light on the panel creep slowly up to the thirty-second floor. For some reason, Rodrigo felt his stomach tighten and a wave of unease wash over him as the lift door opened. From what Alessandro had told him, the team consisted of some of the most deadly and secretive guns for hire on the planet. He was therefore unable to hide his surprise when a young woman of about thirty, a small backpack slung casually over her shoulder and dressed in jeans, a Princeton University sweater and wearing sneakers, stepped out of the lift.

  ‘You must be Raul Rodrigo,’ she said, extending her hand. She had noticed the expression on Rodrigo’s face and smiled as she recognised the familiar effect she had on people who met her for the first time. ‘You look just like your photo on the firm website,’ she continued, trying to put Rodrigo at ease. ‘I’m Teodora. Can we go somewhere private to talk? The fewer people who see me here, the better.’

  Rodrigo ushered his unexpected visitor into the boardroom. He had recovered quickly and was beginning to size up the young woman. She’s so young, he thought. Certainly not what I expected. He found it difficult to imagine that the young woman with the boyish, short black hair and large horn-rimmed glasses, which gave her an endearing, studious look, could possibly be a member of a hit squad hired by the Mafia to carry out treacherous assignments. She looks like a mature student going to a tutorial, he thought as he closed the door behind him, but she appeared totally at ease and in control.

  ‘Spiridon 4. What a curious name,’ began Rodrigo, trying to take the lead. ‘What does it mean?’

  ‘Spiridon means spirit in Serbian, and my team has four members.’

  Rodrigo raised an eyebrow. ‘Your team?’

  Teodora walked over to the large window with an uninterrupted view across the water to the Statue of Liberty, and for a moment glanced at the famous icon that had welcomed thousands of immigrants to the promised land of freedom and opportunity.

  ‘Yes. Is that a problem?’ she asked quietly.

  Rodrigo wasn’t used to being put in his place, and certainly not in his own boardroom. ‘That will depend, I suppose,’ he replied, a little annoyed, ‘on why you’re here, and what you are about to tell me. Please take a seat.’

  Teodora turned around and gave Rodrigo her best smile. ‘Very well,’ she said, choosing a chair near the window. ‘I can already see we’ll get along famously. May I have a glass of water, please?’

  Rodrigo walked over to the fridge. ‘Still or sparkling?’ he asked.

  ‘Sparkling, please. The bottle will do nicely.’

  Rodrigo handed her the bottle of water, sat down opposite her, folded his arms in front of his chest and looked at her expectantly.

  ‘Firstly, why am I here? I came to check you out. I do this at the beginning of every assignment,’ said Teodora cheerfully, and took a sip of water. ‘It’s part of our assessment.’

  ‘Assessment? Assessment of what?’ asked Rodrigo.

  ‘Risk. It helps us decide whether or not to take on the job in the first place, and how much to charge.’

  ‘And did you? Check me out, I mean?’

  ‘Oh yes. I also went to Maryland and Alabama to check out the target.’

  ‘You’ve been to Marshall Space Flight Center to check out Professor Stolzfus?’ Rodrigo looked incredulous.

  ‘I have. What shall we talk about first: you, or the professor?’

  ‘Let’s begin with me.’

  ‘Very well.’ Teodora sat back in her comfortable chair, and for a moment took in the splendid view as she collected her thoughts.

  ‘In a way, we are not all that different from each other,’ began Teodora. ‘You do in the courtroom and around the negotiating table what we do in the field.’

  ‘And what might that be?’ asked Rodrigo.

  ‘We both take on challenging projects that others would find too daunting and risky, and then produce results for our clients and get paid a lot of money for it. This takes courage and imagination. We are also not afraid to think creatively and outside the square.’

  Generalities, thought Rodrigo, unimpressed, bordering on platitudes.

  Teodora read his body language and decided to move up a notch. ‘You arrived in this country with your parents and siblings from Mexico when you were six. Penniless and with very little English, your father struggled to find a job. When he finally did, working as a labourer on the wharves, he toiled twelve hours a day for a pittance that could barely keep his family alive.’

  Rodrigo stiffened and sat up but didn’t interrupt as he remembered those difficult childhood days, brought so unexpectedly alive by the astonishing young woman he had just met.

  ‘Then two years later,’ continued Teodora, ‘
tragedy struck. Your father had a fatal accident ... By the time you were fourteen you already had two jobs, helping your mother who was working in a laundry during the week, and as a cleaner on weekends. This makes your success later at law school even more remarkable, as you continued to work so hard right up to your graduation and bar exams.’ Teodora paused, and looked at Rodrigo. ‘The only reason I’m telling you all this is to give you an indication of the detail we go into with our initial assessment. We build up a careful profile of our clients and those who are important to our assignments. I’m sure you understand.’

  Rodrigo nodded, but didn’t reply.

  ‘You live with your partner, a curator at the Metropolitan Museum, in a penthouse overlooking Central Park. You have a bank account in the Cayman Islands with several million dollars on deposit, and another one in Jersey. Tax reasons. After leaving your previous firm where you were a senior partner for many years – under a cloud of scandal because of your homosexuality – you established this practice and are currently working almost exclusively for the H Cartel in Colombia. Hernando Cordoba, to be precise. Do you want me to go on?’

  Rodrigo shook his head, completely taken aback. ‘No, thank you. That’s enough. I get the picture. Very impressive ...’

  ‘And one more thing,’ added Teodora. ‘You have a luncheon appointment today at twelve-thirty with a prosecutor. The only reason I mention this is that your internet security is seriously defective. It took our hackers just minutes to penetrate your firewall and access your diary ...’

  ‘Remind me never to let your team work against me or my clients,’ said Rodrigo, smiling. He found that a little humour was always the best way to hide embarrassment and surprise. ‘If I am such an open book, I’m dying to know what you’ve found out about Professor Stolzfus. Please tell me.’

  Teodora took another sip of water and then continued, enjoying herself. Confronting clients with this kind of detailed personal information was always an important part of every assignment; a serious test of personalities and resolve.

  ‘Our enquiries so far have focused on the professor’s current position at NASA, not his background and early life as that didn’t seem relevant to our assignment. All we know in that regard is that he grew up on a farm in Pennsylvania in a strict Amish family, had a serious accident in his early twenties, then went to Princeton and had a stellar rise in academia as one of the brightest students of his generation. However,’ continued Teodora, ‘his current position at NASA is interesting ...’

  ‘In what way?’ asked Rodrigo.

  ‘Because it has a bearing on likely security arrangements should he be allowed to leave the US and travel to London to attend the Hawking memorial service in June. And that is by no means certain at this stage,’ said Teodora, dropping the bombshell.

  ‘What makes you say that?’ Rodrigo felt his stomach churn. It was a familiar feeling he experienced every time he faced unexpected bad news.

  ‘First, let me put his current position at NASA into context. Stolzfus is without doubt the brightest, most highly regarded physicist and cosmologist in the US, if not the world today. According to many, including Nobel laureates, he is a genius mathematician and Hawking’s likely successor. That makes him an exceedingly valuable asset, a national treasure in fact, who has to be protected. And protected he is, I can tell you. He is surrounded by strict security on all sides. His movements are restricted; his contract with NASA is quite specific about this. He lives in a guarded compound at the Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama, and outside the compound he’s driven around in an armoured car.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he is part of the “Genius Club”, as it is affectionately known in academic circles.’

  ‘Can you elaborate?’

  ‘Apparently, there are currently six members of the Genius Club. Not all of them work at NASA and the space program, but all are somehow connected to national security. They are the brightest of the bright. Mathematicians, physicists like Stolzfus working on artificial intelligence, space programs, missile shields and climate change. Cutting-edge stuff like that. The US military depends on them and their work.’

  ‘Are you suggesting he may not be allowed to attend the memorial service?’

  ‘Precisely. Since his return from the space station the other day, he has met with Director Goldberger on several occasions about this. He has created a huge fuss, as the director doesn’t want him to go. Strictly speaking, Stolzfus is not allowed to leave the US without permission. It’s all in his contract.

  ‘However, he’s digging in. He’s determined to go. He says this is one occasion in his life he cannot afford to miss. And his recent publicity since that remarkable broadcast from space has given him considerable leverage. But at the same time, it has also given him huge exposure. He’s become an overnight celebrity. It will be difficult to stop him. Ultimately, it will be up to the president to make the decision. No-one else is prepared to take responsibility.’

  ‘And you’ve found all this out in a couple of days?’ said Rodrigo.

  ‘We have some of the best hackers in the world working for us. Their ingenuity is surprising ...’

  ‘I can see that. So, where to from here?’

  ‘If you agree, we would like to proceed on the basis that he will be allowed to go. It’s the most likely outcome. However, we must already factor something critically important into our planning.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Extraordinary security arrangements by both the US – CIA most likely and army intelligence – and in the UK, MI5. This will go all the way to the top.’

  ‘Incredible! And you and your team are still interested?’

  ‘Certainly. This will only have a bearing on our fee, but fortunately for you this is not your problem, is it, Mr Rodrigo?’ said Teodora, smiling.

  ‘I must say, I didn’t quite expect this,’ said Rodrigo, shaking his head.

  ‘Assignments like this are never straightforward. That’s why we make our assessment first. That way at least, there are no surprises.’

  ‘Do you walk away from many?’

  ‘Some. But most of the time it has nothing to do with difficulties on the ground, so to speak. The real problems are always the clients ...’

  ‘But not this time?’

  ‘It would appear not. We’ve worked with the Giordanos many times before.’

  ‘So, may I assume that my client and I have passed?’

  ‘With flying colours.’

  ‘Thank God for that!’

  ‘Not that many do.’

  ‘And your fee?’ asked Rodrigo, unable to resist the tempting question.

  ‘Not your problem. But it will reflect the huge risks we take.’

  Wow! thought Rodrigo. I can imagine.

  ‘That’s why we can only work every now and then. We have to keep a low profile.’

  ‘Understandable.’

  Teodora looked at her watch and stood up. ‘But now I really have to go. I have a plane to catch. Thanks for the water,’ she added, a sparkle in her eyes. ‘There’s one more thing ...’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Where do you want to take delivery of the target? That may have a bearing on our fee.’

  ‘Morocco.’

  ‘Ah. Makes sense. The H Cartel is using Morocco as an entry point into Europe.’

  ‘You are well informed.’

  ‘Can make the difference between success and failure. Perhaps even life and death.’

  ‘Quite so.’

  ‘I’ll be in touch,’ said Teodora.

  ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

  6

  Marshall Space Flight Center, Huntsville, Alabama: 12 April

  The think-tank at the Marshall Space Flight Center – MSFC – the brainchild of a US Nobel laureate and jokingly referred to by scientists around the world as the ‘Genius Club’ – was chaired by Professor Zachariah Stolzfus, the undisputed star. An eccentric genius who lived in almost monastic i
solation in a building once occupied by German rocket scientist Wernher von Braun, Stolzfus was a familiar sight at the MSFC, as were his bodyguard, his pushbike and ‘Gizmo’, a rescue dog who accompanied him everywhere – even to his lectures and meetings. It was rumoured that his dog knew more about rocket science than all the members of the club combined.

  It isn’t often the case that a man’s reputation is closely matched by his appearance. Not only was Stolzfus affectionately known at MSFC as Little Einstein, a nickname he had brought with him from Princeton, he looked like him too. Shortish, in his late forties, with a thick beard but no moustache and a bushy head of hair that made him look like the famous German-born theoretical physicist, he walked with a limp and almost always wore a newsboy cap, white shirt, braces, and a bow tie; undoubtedly a throwback to his Amish childhood in Pennsylvania. Yet he was blessed with an exceptional mind and without question was one of the brightest and most gifted theoretical physicists in the United States, if not the world.

  At Princeton he had dazzled the professors with his mathematical ability and an inquisitive mind that could grasp complex concepts in an instant, and then turn them upside down and explore ideas and possibilities in ways that were totally original and unique. He could then quickly distil and refine these ideas into concepts he could explain mathematically, and was well known for filling entire blackboards and whiteboards with calculations and long equations only he could understand, and then expressed surprise when others couldn’t immediately follow what he was getting at. To him, it all appeared obvious and easy, and he sometimes found it frustrating and tedious having to explain what he was trying to say.

  An illustrious career in academia seemed assured and offers came flooding in from various prestigious institutions. That’s when he came to the attention of the CIA, who wanted to recruit him. Mathematicians of his calibre only came along once in a generation and were in great demand not only by the CIA, but also by the military.