The Curious Case of the Missing Head

by Gabriel Farago

  Stolzfus had declined. With his eyes firmly trained at the heavens, he had bigger things in mind. He wanted to solve the mysteries of the universe, not national security.

  Stolzfus left his bike with his bodyguard downstairs at the entrance and walked up the stairs with Gizmo to the meeting room on the first floor. It was the second Thursday of the month, the day the Genius Club met at MSFC. Every other month, it met at the Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Maryland, which was Stolzfus’s second home. It was the first meeting of the club since Stolzfus had returned after a long stint on the space station. It was also their first meeting since Hawking had died, and Stolzfus had decided to dedicate the meeting to Hawking and his remarkable ideas and achievements. But this was only part of the reason. He also had a plan ...

  The other members – two women and three men, all in their thirties – had already arrived by the time Stolzfus entered the room, and were chatting and drinking coffee. Gizmo seemed to know them all and went from one to the other for a pat, his tail wagging, before settling down in his usual corner beside the blackboard.

  The first few minutes were spent with good-natured banter as everyone teased Stolzfus about his newfound fame since that extraordinary message from space had gone viral.

  ‘They’ll make a movie about him, for sure; you’ll see,’ said one, ‘now that he’s a celebrity.’

  ‘If only they could find an actor to do the man justice,’ teased another.

  ‘Not easy,’ said one of the women, grinning. ‘I can’t think of anyone.’

  Stolzfus held up his hand. ‘Enough, guys. Perhaps I’ll just have to play myself, should someone be brave enough to ask,’ said Stolzfus. ‘That should send the box offices around the world into a spin.’

  ‘Well, if they spin fast enough, they could turn into a black hole,’ speculated the other woman, ‘and no information could then get out. That would solve the problem.’

  ‘And deprive the world of a masterpiece?’ said Stolzfus, grinning. ‘But seriously, I’m glad you mentioned black holes, because that is precisely what I would like to talk to you about.’

  Stolzfus turned to the blackboard behind him, picked up a piece of chalk and quickly wrote down an equation, the chalk making a spine-chilling, screeching noise. It was one of Hawking’s most famous equations, the one Hawking had requested be engraved on his tombstone because it embodied his greatest contribution to science:

  Hc3

  T= __________

  8 PiGMk

  ‘Hawking radiation,’ said Jake, one of the men in the group. ‘You want to talk about black holes?’

  ‘Precisely,’ replied Stolzfus and turned around to face the others seated in front of him. ‘I know this is not what we were going to discuss today, but I would like to raise something a little different if I may, in memory of the great man who just passed away.’

  Stolzfus paused and ran his fingers through his bushy hair. ‘It’s all about the largest objects in the universe, and the smallest particles,’ he continued, ‘and a tantalising paradox, all embodied in an elegant theory trying to bridge the gap between quantum physics, and physics on a cosmic scale. Simply put, it’s about black hole evaporation.

  ‘Hawking radiation is a paradox, a conundrum; that’s what Hawking left us. He started the conversation, it’s now up to us to continue it. But I believe that’s not all. He left us much more than that: a challenge. Orbiting in space for a few weeks as I have done just now gives you a lot of time to think, and a different perspective.

  ‘As we know, black holes warp space and time, and until quite recently it was believed that nothing could escape from a black hole, not even light, because it is incredibly dense and gravity would therefore not allow this. Then along came Hawking in 1973 and turned this on its head. “Not so,” he said. Why? Because unless they can consume more matter, black holes will leak radiation and particles, shrink over billions of years and eventually explode and disappear. Like hungry beasts they have to be fed. If not, they will fizzle and die.’

  ‘We know all this, Zac,’ said one of the men sitting in the front.

  ‘Quite so,’ replied Stolzfus. ‘In fact, I believe that collectively between all of us in this room, we know a lot more, if only we could combine it all, share it, harness it, explore it together ...’

  ‘What are you getting at, Zac?’ asked one of the women, Barbara, who knew Stolzfus well.

  ‘Hawking believed that we are getting very close to a theory of everything, a unifying theory that would answer all the questions in the universe, including the paradox I was just talking about. In fact, I believe he was getting close but sadly, he ran out of time. One can only speculate what he would have been able to achieve with a little more time up his sleeve ...’

  ‘Sure, it’s the holy grail ...’ muttered another man at the back, sounding a little impatient.

  ‘It is. Please bear with me. I’m convinced that all the right ideas are here in this very room. But at the moment, they consist of different pieces of information, like a jigsaw puzzle, waiting to be put together to show the whole picture.

  ‘I know your areas of expertise, your talents, your strengths better than anyone. Looking around the room I can see quantum mechanics, thermodynamics, the Big Bang, wormholes and time travel. I can see singularities, event horizons, entropy and space time, to name but a few. You are all intimately acquainted with the work of Laplace, Planck, Heisenberg and Dirac. What more do we want? If we can bring all those pieces, all that precious knowledge gained together, we just may have the answer right here ...’

  ‘You really believe that?’ said Barbara.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Based on what?’ asked Jake, becoming excited. For someone like Stolzfus who was always cautious and reserved, and questioned everything, to say something like this was quite extraordinary.

  ‘On what I know and what I sense ... We all know that some of the greatest discoveries begin with gut feeling and asking the right questions. I can point to countless examples and so can you.’

  ‘So, what have you got in mind?’ asked Barbara.

  ‘I want to throw you a challenge. We could call it the Hawking Challenge. Apart from everything else we do, we work together on this as a team. Divide the tasks; pool our insights and our knowledge. Six brains, not just one. Just think of the possibilities. Up there in orbit, I could see the big picture. I believe we can do this. I can be the guide, the conductor if you like, but we are all part of the same orchestra, playing in harmony to create an inspired symphony to make the angels listen, and dance to our tune. What do you say?’

  ‘Very poetic, Zac,’ said Barbara.

  ‘Exciting stuff. Let’s put it to a vote,’ said Jake. ‘All right. So, who wants to be part of this orchestra?’

  Five hands shot up into the air. Stolzfus smiled and then raised his own. ‘We’ll talk again later, but now let’s get down to business and discuss what’s on the agenda or we’ll get into trouble. Barbara, would you like to begin?’

  Barbara was about to open the folder in front of her when someone knocked on the door and then entered. It was the director’s secretary.

  ‘Sorry for interrupting, Professor Stolzfus, but the director would like to see you. It’s urgent.’

  Stolzfus followed the secretary across the courtyard to another building, his bodyguard trailing behind them. ‘Do you know what this is about?’ asked Stolzfus. To be called into the director’s office like this was most unusual.

  ‘No idea,’ replied the secretary. ‘All I know is some bigwig from Washington and someone from the CIA arrived this morning. Both are with the director right now.’

  ‘Sounds ominous. Could be an arrest warrant; what do you think?’ joked Stolzfus.

  ‘Are you a spy, Zac?’

  ‘I’m only spying on the stars.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s an offence, especially not around here. They are all doing it. Must be something else.’

  ‘We’ll soon find out.�
�

  ‘Ah, Professor Stolzfus,’ said Chuck Goldberger, director of the MSFC, as soon as Stolzfus entered his office. ‘Apologies for interrupting your meeting, but this couldn’t wait. Let me introduce you.’

  A man and an attractive young woman in her late thirties who were seated on a couch stood up and introductions were made. The man was from NASA HQ in Washington, the woman, who introduced herself as Major Andersen, was from the CIA.

  ‘This is about your application,’ began Goldberger, ‘to attend the Hawking memorial service in London.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Stolzfus, relieved. ‘And here I was thinking I must have unwittingly committed some serious space crime up there and was about to be hauled over the coals …’

  Everybody laughed. The ice was broken.

  ‘Nothing like that,’ said the man from Washington. ‘In fact, it’s all good news. Your application has been approved. It went all the way to the top, the president himself.’

  ‘I had no idea this was that important,’ said Stolzfus.

  ‘Oh yes, it is. As the coordinator of several highly sensitive, multibillion-dollar projects – many of them defence and national security related – you are one of the most important men in the country, Professor, and therefore a potential target.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Stolzfus, frowning.

  ‘There are some governments that would go to great lengths to get their hands on you,’ interjected Major Andersen. ‘And they’d pay a small fortune for what you know and what you can do. And then of course there are always the terrorists—’

  ‘You can’t be serious!’ interrupted Stolzfus. ‘I’m just a scientist, for God’s sake.’

  ‘Precisely, and since your broadcast from space, a very well-known one. You may have been working in the shadows until then, Professor Stolzfus, under a cloak of anonymity, but now you are in the spotlight, like it or not, and that makes you vulnerable,’ said the man from Washington.

  ‘Vulnerable? In what way?’

  ‘I will let Major Andersen here explain what will be involved when you travel and leave the country,’ said Goldberger, sidestepping the question. ‘She will be in charge of security and accompany you on your trip.’

  For the next half hour, the major took Stolzfus step by step through the elaborate security arrangements. ‘In fact,’ she said, coming to the conclusion of the briefing, ‘the president ordered that the same level of security is to be provided to you as if he were to travel himself to attend the service. Do I make myself clear?’ The major looked sternly at Stolzfus.

  ‘Perfectly.’ She looks so young, thought Stolzfus, sizing up the CIA agent sitting opposite, but he knew it would be a mistake not to take her seriously. She was obviously used to being in control. Must be top notch. They wouldn’t have sent her otherwise.

  ‘In London, the Metropolitan Police and MI5 will be in charge of security, obviously in close collaboration with us; CIA mainly ...’ continued the major. Super smart, eccentric; not used to being told what to do; a little awkward around women, thought the major, sizing up the man she would have to protect. Could be a problem. He clearly had no idea how important he was. She would have to tread carefully and gain his confidence.

  ‘I don’t have to remind you, Professor,’ interjected the man from Washington, ‘that none of this is to leave this room. You are not to discuss it with anyone. The same secrecy obligations apply to this as to all of your work. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of your obligations in that regard ... and please don’t write anything down.’

  ‘I completely understand.’

  ‘That’s about it for now,’ said Goldberger and stood up. ‘We mustn’t keep you from your work any longer, Professor. Major Andersen will be in touch and will brief you more fully in due course.’

  This is ridiculous and totally unnecessary, thought Stolzfus, shaking his head as he slowly limped back to his meeting. It should have been a simple, straightforward affair, not a full-blown national security exercise. But for some reason, he was suddenly feeling apprehensive about the trip.

  7

  ‘Villa Rosa’, Lake Como: 14 April

  Unlike her twin sister, Nadia, who was still in bed, Teodora was an early riser. She stepped out onto the large terrace of Villa Rosa, a magnificent nineteenth-century estate on the shores of Lake Como, which she had purchased a few years earlier from a profligate young Italian aristocrat who had to sell in a hurry to pay his gambling debts. Teodora looked dreamily across the tranquil water. Still partially hidden by the morning mist hovering above the dark water like a shroud, the brooding lake looked mysterious and calm. It was just after sunrise. For an instant, a strange feeling of doom cast a shadow over the peaceful moment as she looked across to the dark cliffs below the house. Instead of recognising it as a warning, she dismissed the disturbing intrusion and closed her eyes, hoping it would go away.

  Teodora loved this time of the day. She loved to feel the cool air caress her face, and the dew-laden moss tickle her toes as she began her morning exercises and prepared herself for what she knew would be a tough day. Today Spiridon 4 would meet to discuss her assessment of the Stolzfus assignment, and vote on whether to go ahead with it.

  Over the years, Teodora had emerged as the de facto leader of the group. Her sparkling intelligence, impeccable instincts that always seemed to guide them well, and imaginative resourcefulness to somehow come up with solutions no-one thought possible, had not only contributed to the group’s phenomenal success, but was in fact the key to it.

  Unless Teodora had assessed an assignment first and recommended it, it couldn’t be put to the vote. Even then, the vote to go ahead had to be unanimous. If not, the project was scuttled and Spiridon 4 would walk away from it. This unbreakable discipline had served them well over the years, and was without doubt the reason they were all still alive and in business.

  Teodora realised this was by far the most ambitious project Spiridon 4 had ever considered, and could well turn out to be the last they would work on together as a team. She knew it wouldn’t be easy to convince the others to go ahead with it. The risks were high, but so were the rewards. She had sensed for some time that there was a certain reluctance to take risks, especially by Silvanus, a Romany gypsy who was the oldest member of Spiridon 4.

  His brother, Aladdin, who was the youngest member of the team, had also become more cautious over the years, especially after their spectacularly successful assignment the year before – the assassination of a high-profile politician in Cairo – which had made them a small fortune. With money – lots of money – came caution and the inclination to protect it. Both men were married with families, and lived a life of luxury none of them could have imagined the day they had met the two girls as teenagers in Albania.

  As the fog began to lift, allowing the morning sun to break through, Teodora remembered that fateful day. The day she and her sister had run into the woods late at night to escape that evil place of horror, which had devoured their parents in the most brutal way imaginable. Teodora had never told her sister what she had seen through that crack in the barn wall. Nor had they ever spoken about it since. All Nadia knew was that their parents had been killed that night, but she didn’t know how, or why.

  After walking aimlessly for hours through the dense forest in the dark – their feet bruised and bleeding – they had come to a clearing. Several men, women and children were seated around a campfire, singing, the horse-drawn wagons behind them giving the scene a cheerful, almost theatrical appearance. The girls had stumbled into a gypsy camp. Terrified and exhausted, Teodora realised they couldn’t go much further, and decided to make contact and hope for the best. It had been one of the best decisions of her life.

  After Teodora told them what had happened, the gypsies gave them shelter and they became part of an extended family. The gypsies had also suffered greatly during the war and understood just too well what the girls had been through. Many gypsies had been hunted down, tortured, raped and murdered
by roving Albanian militias, often without any reason – just for fun. It was in that camp that Teodora and Nadia had met Silvanus and Aladdin, the sons of one of the gypsy elders, and a close friendship was forged that turned into a unique bond that was to last for years.

  Teodora remembered the time she and her sister had spent travelling with the gypsies as some of the best years of her life. But it was after that carefree period that Spiridon 4 was conceived. Born out of poverty and necessity, Spiridon 4 was based on sheer courage and imagination ignited by the need to survive, after disaster struck when their camp was attacked and virtually wiped out one day in Kosovo. After most of the brothers’ family members had been killed, the horses slaughtered and the carts burned to the ground, the four friends, who had escaped the carnage by hiding in a cave nearby, took an oath. Standing on the smouldering ruins of their lives, they swore a blood oath of loyalty, trust, friendship and unconditional support for one another that was to be at the very heart of Spiridon 4, never to be broken.

  Silvanus was the first to arrive. He had driven up from Milan early that morning. Two hours later, Aladdin, who lived in Switzerland, arrived by taxi after taking the train to Como station.

  ‘I love this place,’ said Silvanus after the maid had served coffee and pastries on the terrace. He looked down to the jetty and the sailing boat. ‘You got this for a bargain.’

  Nadia smiled. ‘Right place, right time; that’s all. Remember?’

  ‘And lots of money at our disposal to make it all work,’ interjected Teodora, always the realist. ‘Without that, no Villa Rosa.’

  ‘True,’ said Aladdin. ‘Somehow it all comes back to money, doesn’t it? But don’t we have enough, guys? What we made during the last couple of years is staggering!’

  Teodora realised at once where this was heading and decided to nip it in the bud straight away. ‘There’s more to it than that and you know it,’ she said. ‘Doing these assignments is our lifeblood. It keeps us together, shows us who we are ... what we can do. They are our identity. Our destiny,’ she added softly.