The Curious Case of the Missing Head

by Gabriel Farago

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘But what brings you here?’ continued Izabel.

  ‘The couple who run this place, Lorenza da Baggio and her husband, Tristan, are good friends of mine. They are just over there. Would you like to meet them?’

  ‘Is that Lorenza da Baggio, the Top Chef Europe winner?’ asked Izabel.

  Jack nodded.

  ‘Yes please! I would love to meet her.’

  ‘I’ll arrange it.’

  Tristan had prepared a table on the terrace with a splendid view across to the Rialto Bridge, and everyone moved outside. Introductions were made and Tristan ordered champagne.

  ‘When did you arrive?’ asked Izabel.

  ‘A couple of hours ago ... you?’

  ‘Teodora and I have been here for two days. A little break ... we are leaving tomorrow.’

  ‘Jack’s on a mission, as usual,’ Tristan cut in and poured some more champagne.

  ‘What kind of mission?’ asked Teodora.

  Jack waved dismissively. ‘Long story.’

  ‘He’s trying to find someone who went missing in London. A famous astrophysicist,’ said Tristan.

  Teodora sat up as if prodded with a hot poker and stared at Jack.

  ‘What a fascinating life you lead, Jack,’ said Izabel. ‘Don’t you think so, Teodora?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Teodora, recovering quickly. ‘Would that have something to do with that scientist who collapsed in Westminster Abbey during the Hawking memorial service?’

  ‘Ah, you know about that?’ said Jack.

  ‘It was all over the news.’

  ‘Yes, that’s him.’

  ‘What’s your interest in this?’ Teodora asked casually. She watched Jack carefully and took another sip of champagne.

  ‘He’s the brother of my publicist.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Teodora.

  By now, the restaurant was almost empty and it was time to call it a night.

  ‘Well, this is it for me,’ said Izabel, turning to Jack. ‘We’ve had a long day, and I’m sure you did too.’

  ‘Five am start in London. Then a meeting in Florence and a train trip to get here.’

  ‘You must be exhausted.’

  ‘I am, but delighted to see you. Pity you are leaving tomorrow ...’

  ‘We have to, quite early. We are driving back to Teodora’s home on Lake Como. Why don’t you join us for breakfast and we can have another chat before we go?’

  ‘Good plan. Let’s do that.’

  Jack stood next to Tristan on the terrace and was watching the vaporetti and water taxis going up and down the canal, lit up by the colourful lights of the restaurants dotted along the banks.

  ‘What a magical place,’ he said after Izabel and Teodora had gone to their room, and Lorenza had gone back to the kitchen to close up.

  ‘Another drink?’ said Tristan.

  ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘I don’t know if you noticed, but there’s something odd about Teodora,’ said Tristan.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘When you mentioned the professor, she looked quite shocked.’

  ‘Can’t say I noticed.’

  ‘And there was something else ...’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Danger. The woman radiates danger.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Difficult to explain. It’s an aura. I’ve felt it many times in the past, and I felt it tonight. Strongly. She’s like a coiled-up, venomous snake, ready to strike.’

  Jack knew better than to dismiss Tristan’s observation. He had been around Tristan too long and had witnessed his incredible intuition and insights often.

  ‘I think she knows something about the professor she isn’t telling us,’ continued Tristan.

  ‘How interesting. I wonder why ... There is something else you should know, Tristan.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I’m about to call Lola and Isis.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To ask for their help. I don’t think we can get on board this hospital ship without them.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘I’ll tell you in the morning. Now, let me go to my room and call them before I fall asleep right here. I also want to call Celia in New York and ask her to do some urgent digging for me. I want to know more about this surgeon in Malta who seems to be running the charity. He’s most likely working for the Mafia. And I want to know more about this hospital ship, the Caritas. Celia has all the resources available at the paper to do this quickly. And she knows she’s getting the story. So, that should be enough fuel for a little midnight oil.’

  For a while Jack looked pensively at the silent facades of the palazzos lining the canal like sentinels of the past, frozen in time. ‘And I can tell you, I can see a big story in all this, and it’s coming towards us like a tsunami out of the dark,’ he continued. ‘The question is, are you ready for it, my young friend? Could be dangerous.’

  Tristan took his time before replying. ‘I said yes the moment you asked me,’ he began quietly. ‘I have a great life here, but I do miss our ...’

  Jack put his arm around Tristan. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘Everything has its price.’

  ‘Don’t tell Lorenza this, but I could do with a little time away from here. I need some of the old excitement; a new challenge of sorts, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘I do, but be careful what you wish for,’ said Jack and slapped Tristan good-naturedly on the back.

  26

  Venice: 23 June

  Jack was an early riser. He was the first guest to make it down to breakfast on the terrace, its manicured hedges still covered in glistening morning dew. Venice early in the morning had a special magic. Because the mist hadn’t quite lifted yet, only the tops of the buildings were visible, giving them a surreal, stage-like appearance, and the muffled traffic noise drifting up from the busy canal below sounded eerie, distant and distorted. Even the familiar bells sounded different, but Jack was oblivious to all this because he was busily working on his laptop.

  The information he had requested about Professor Fabry and the Caritas had just come through. Celia has been a busy girl, thought Jack, impressed by the detail and the speed with which the material had been assembled. The more he read about Fabry, the more astonishing his story became. Shaking his head, Jack pushed the laptop aside, sat back and took another sip of coffee. If only part of this is correct, this guy must be one of the most skilled surgeons on the planet, he thought. Genius, or monster?

  Because he was so focused on what he had just read, Jack didn’t notice Izabel walking over to his table until she put her hand on his shoulder and bent down to give him a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Don’t tell me you’ve been here all night,’ she said and sat down next to him. ‘A penny for your thoughts?’

  ‘Feels like it. I’ve just read something amazing.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘A surgeon who lives in Malta; Professor Fabry.’

  ‘What’s so special about him?’

  ‘Have you heard of Our Bodies, the exhibition?’

  ‘Isn’t that about real human bodies that have been preserved in some unique way and used as anatomical exhibits?’

  ‘Yes. The exhibition has been hugely successful; it’s toured the world, attracting millions of visitors.’

  ‘So, what’s so interesting about it?’

  ‘Well, the preservation process is called vivification. Fabry uses the proceeds from the exhibition, which is run by a charity registered in Malta, to operate a hospital ship, the Caritas. It’s very much like the Mercy Ships organisation, which provides medical services in poor third-world countries.’

  ‘But that’s wonderful, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not entirely. There’s a dark side to this. Fabry and the exhibition have been plagued by scandal and controversy from the beginning.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘It’s all about the bodies – where they come from and how they’ve been obt
ained. Has there been donor consent, or have the bodies been obtained in some other, more sinister way?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The Caritas operates mainly in Africa, often in war-torn countries with many casualties, and it has been rumoured that bodies have been sourced without consent for vivification and use in the exhibition. This has raised major ethical and legal considerations.’

  ‘How ghoulish.’ Izabel looked shocked.

  ‘Fabry has strongly denied this, maintaining that all bodies have been sourced from willing donors, but he has never been able to prove it. And it gets worse.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Fabry is a very gifted surgeon, albeit a controversial one. He has many critics. Some call him a genius because he has perfected certain surgical procedures and techniques that mainstream surgeons argued would never work. Others call him a charlatan. He has a clinic in Malta and specialises in organ transplants.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘There’s been a lot of controversy about the origin of some of the organs. Their legitimacy has been questioned and he has been accused of trafficking in body parts. Some say the Mafia is involved.’

  ‘Wow!’

  ‘There’s more ...’

  ‘There is?’

  ‘His background is murky and there is even a cloud hanging over his medical qualifications. Apparently, he changed his name for some reason. A few years ago, there was a rumour that he was a Kosovar doctor who was involved in an organ-harvesting racket during the Kosovo war. This was all part of a UN war crimes investigation, but it was closed down and didn’t go anywhere.’

  ‘This is all very fascinating,’ said Izabel, ‘but why are you so interested in this man?’

  ‘Because I am going to meet him tomorrow.’

  Izabel shook her head. ‘You are an amazing guy, Jack. No wonder your books are so interesting and popular.’

  ‘Enough of this,’ said Jack and closed his laptop. ‘Let’s have some breakfast. Where is Teodora?’

  ‘She’s usually a morning person, but she looked so exhausted last night I’ve left her sleeping ...’

  ‘Ah. I don’t want to pry, but you two looked very happy last night ...’

  ‘We are.’

  ‘Have you known her long?’

  ‘No. Just a couple of weeks. We just clicked. For the first time since Soul died, I feel so ...’

  Jack put his hand on Izabel’s arm. ‘No need to explain. I’m very happy for you.’

  ‘Thanks, Jack. Soul’s death almost destroyed me.’

  ‘Life goes on. Is Teodora also in the fashion business?’

  ‘No. She lives in a fabulous house on Lake Como. We are going back there today. As you know, I live in Milan, so it’s quite close.’

  ‘What does she do?’

  ‘I don’t really know, but she’s very rich. Serbian.’

  ‘Hmm. Interesting ...’

  ‘Her sister died quite recently. Totally unexpected. They were close. That’s why we came here for a little break. I know all about grieving ...’

  ‘Ah, here comes our breakfast,’ said Jack, changing the subject. ‘Fresh pastries and coffee. I’m in heaven.’

  Teodora joined them for breakfast shortly after, and Tristan offered to take them in his beloved boat to the Piazzale Roma, which was close to the AVM Venezia car park.

  ‘You are in for a treat,’ said Jack. ‘Wait till you see this boat. It’s a classic. An original Riva Aquarama. It’s been in several movies.’

  ‘No way!’ said Teodora. ‘Does it still have the original Cadillac engines?’

  Tristan looked impressed. Few people knew about that. ‘Absolutely. Two hundred and fifty horsepower per engine. Top speed forty-five knots. We can outrun just about anything on the water here in Venice. The hull is sheathed in mahogany and varnished to show off the woodgrain,’ boasted Tristan.

  ‘Teodora has a Lamborghini Centenario roadster,’ interjected Izabel. ‘You should see her drive it. Like a pro, I tell you.’

  ‘You have one of those?’ said Tristan, turning to Teodora. ‘Six-point-five litre, V12 engine, zero to one hundred in two-point-eight seconds?’

  ‘That’s the one,’ said Teodora, smiling. ‘Only forty Centenarios were built: twenty coupes, and twenty roadsters.’

  ‘And you have one of them. Amazing.’

  ‘We should just leave them to it, Izabel, what do you think?’ said Jack and reached for another pastry.

  ‘We should. She looks so happy,’ said Izabel quietly. ‘Coming here was a good idea. We must do it again.’

  Half an hour later, they were on their way. Tristan manoeuvred the boat out of the mooring under the palazzo and through an iron-studded wooden gate, opening straight onto the canal. Teodora held Izabel’s hand and was enjoying the deep throb of the powerful engines bouncing off the wet, moss-covered stone walls, promising speed and excitement.

  ‘This little beauty was my wedding present,’ shouted Tristan, accelerating through the busy morning traffic outside. ‘It used to belong to Lorenza’s late brother. Hold on; here we go.’

  Tristan pulled out into the middle of the canal as Lorenza had taught him, found a gap in the traffic and put on speed. The powerful boat roared past barges, gondolas and vaporetti packed with waving tourists.

  ‘What do you think?’ said Jack, enjoying the spray hitting his face.

  ‘Exhilarating,’ replied Teodora, her wet cheeks glowing with excitement. With only centimetres to spare, Tristan steered the boat expertly past lumbering barges and massive bridge pylons.

  ‘Are there no rules or speed limits here?’ shouted Izabel.

  ‘There are,’ replied Tristan, ‘but no-one cares. This is Italy, remember?’

  Tristan made a sharp right-hand turn in front of a water taxi and slowed down. ‘Almost there,’ he said. ‘Piazzale Roma is just over there.’

  ‘Thank God,’ said Izabel. ‘I thought sitting next to Teodora in the Centenario was tough enough, but this is something else.’

  ‘You’ve become an excellent driver, Tristan,’ said Jack.

  ‘Lorenza is a good teacher. She wouldn’t let me take her baby out alone until she was sure I could manage. It took almost a year,’ said Tristan, grinning.

  Tristan pulled up at the vaporetto stop, which was totally illegal. Jack helped Izabel and Teodora with their luggage and they said goodbye.

  ‘You must visit me sometime at Como,’ said Teodora as they shook hands. ‘And good luck with the professor.’

  Tristan saw a vaporetto approach, horn blaring, and took off.

  ‘Can we go somewhere quiet?’ said Jack, ‘I’ve something to tell you.’

  ‘Sure. Let me show you my favourite caffetteria; it’s on the way.’

  Tristan turned into a quiet side canal and tied up the boat at a small pontoon. ‘This is it,’ he said and pointed to a few stools in front of a narrow opening in a wall. ‘Best coffee in Venice; locals only.’ Tristan seemed to know everyone at the caffetteria and ordered two lattes.

  ‘I know you’ve been busy all night,’ said Tristan, and pointed to two empty stools. ‘So, what’s the plan?’

  ‘Lola says hello,’ began Jack. ‘Fancy a ride in the Pegasus?’ Pegasus was Isis’s private jet.

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Tomorrow. Lola and Isis are flying in from London and picking us up at Marco Polo airport in the morning, and then we are flying to Malta to meet someone … intriguing.’

  ‘Care to tell me about it?’

  ‘Sure. I think I’ve found a way to get us on board the Caritas without having to break any laws.’

  ‘How have you managed that?’

  ‘Simple, really. With the promise of money. Always a sure thing. That’s why I told you yesterday that we needed Isis to make this work.’

  ‘How exactly?’

  ‘The Caritas is operated by a charity. It has an interesting website and is alway
s looking for donations. Isis is a well-known, high-profile philanthropist. She supports numerous charities worldwide. So, I asked Lola to get in touch with the man who runs the charity – Professor Fabry in Malta. She emailed him a letter last night – on Time Machine letterhead – and told him that Isis was interested in making a substantial donation. The letter also stated that Isis would be in Malta tomorrow and would like to visit the Caritas if possible, and meet the doctors running the operation before making a decision about a donation.’

  ‘Clever plan,’ said Tristan, nodding appreciatively. ‘There was a reply already, I take it?’

  ‘Professor Fabry will meet us personally at the airport in Malta and take us on board the Caritas to show us the ship. I suppose arriving by private jet helps. How’s that?’

  ‘Exactly what I expected from you, Jack. Another coffee?’

  Teodora joined the A4 autostrada at Mestre and accelerated, giving the Centenario an opportunity to show what it could do.

  ‘What an interesting man; Jack,’ said Teodora, enjoying the extraordinary power of the V12 engine as the car flew past a convoy of trucks.

  ‘He is. Very charming.’

  ‘And you two now share a special bond.’ Teodora pointed to Izabel’s neck. ‘The little cross. I could see it’s very special to him.’

  ‘It is. As I told you, it used to belong to his mother. He was in Africa just recently, trying to find out what happened to her all those years ago.’

  ‘Fascinating.’

  ‘He’s always involved in unusual stuff.’

  ‘Like trying to find that missing professor?’

  ‘I suppose so. And there was something else that was really interesting he told me this morning. It’s about a famous doctor in Malta, a surgeon.’

  ‘Oh? What about him?’

  ‘Apparently, he runs a charity supporting some hospital ship and has a travelling exhibition with real human bodies, would you believe. I think it’s called Our Bodies.’

  ‘I’ve seen it in the States. It’s incredible. So, this doctor is behind that?’

  ‘Yes, but apparently it’s all very controversial.’