The Curious Case of the Missing Head

by Gabriel Farago

  Jack, Tristan and Rebecca were all staying in a hotel close to Squadra Mobile HQ. Cesaria had arranged this for convenience, as most of their time had been spent on police business and, sadly, in the morgue. With Alessandro’s help, Teodora had been able to secure a room for herself in the same busy hotel, popular with tourists. This was a key component of her daring plan, and the only way she could see the ambitious assignment had a chance of success before Jack caught the train to Venice later that morning, as she knew he had planned.

  Teodora had arranged for Aladdin and Silvanus to meet her at her hotel at five am. This would be their one and only opportunity to discuss the plan in person before it had to be implemented. They all knew this wasn’t ideal, but it was the only way forward in the circumstances. They also realised that since that sensational article in the New York Times that had trained the international spotlight firmly on the good professor and his disappearance, the entire Stolzfus assignment was now under a cloud of uncertainty and hung in the balance by a thread. But they had carried out delicate assignments on the run before and knew the risks.

  Just before five, Teodora went down to the hotel foyer to meet Aladdin and Silvanus and took them back to her room on the first floor.

  ‘We came as soon as we could,’ said Silvanus.

  ‘I can see you didn’t sleep much,’ said Aladdin and pointed to the bed, which hadn’t been used.

  ‘No, I didn’t. I spent the little time I had to put together something I believe will work.’

  ‘All right; let’s hear it,’ said Silvanus and put his Glock on the small table by the window.

  ‘As I’ve told you, Jack Rogan, the target, is staying right here in this hotel on the third floor. He is due to check out this morning and catch a train to Venice with a friend, Tristan, who is also staying here. The good news is, I’ve met them both before – socially. Entirely by chance, a few days ago. They have no inkling about my involvement in the Stolzfus matter and therefore will not suspect anything.’

  Silvanus looked at Teodora, impressed. ‘You are full of surprises as usual. And this is going to help us?’

  ‘It sure will.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Sit down, boys, and I’ll tell you.’

  Silvanus and Aladdin listened in silence as Teodora took them step by step through every detail of her daring plan, right down to phone signals and seating arrangements in the breakfast room she had checked out the night before. It all came down to split-second timing and, of course, a little luck. But Teodora was convinced that luck favoured the brave.

  ‘So, what do you think, guys?’

  ‘We are flying by the seat of our pants and taking considerable risks, but I like it,’ said Aladdin. ‘I think it can be done.’

  ‘So do I,’ said Silvanus, who particularly liked the million-dollar windfall that came with the unexpected assignment. As seasoned professionals, they all thrived on a challenge and liked to consider themselves some of the best in the business. And as this was most likely to be their last assignment, the huge publicity surrounding the Stolzfus matter had a particular cat-and-mouse appeal; egos always played a big part in high-profile cases like this.

  ‘All right. Check phones and watches,’ said Teodora, ‘and then it’s almost time for me to go down to breakfast and start the show. You two will, of course, stay right here and wait for my signal.’

  Aladdin and Silvanus looked at each other and nodded, the intoxicating adrenaline rush had already begun.

  A few minutes after seven, Teodora sat down at a small table in the back of the breakfast room with a clear view of the entrance and ordered coffee. She knew Jack was an early riser and expected him to be one of the first to come down to breakfast. She was right. Ten minutes later, Jack and Tristan appeared and the hostess who was waiting at the door showed them to a table.

  ‘Before Rebecca comes down, there’s something I have to tell you,’ said Tristan and ordered some tea.

  ‘Oh? What?’

  ‘Something that has troubled me for some time now. I could hardly sleep last night. I couldn’t get this music out of my head. And then there was something else ...’

  ‘What kind of music?’

  ‘I’ve worked out what it is.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Tchaikovsky’s Lost Symphony.’

  ‘Okay, and this caused you to lose sleep?’

  ‘It did, because the first time we saw that disfigured body on the Caritas, I heard the same music. And then there was this strange feeling ...’

  ‘What kind of feeling?’

  ‘I wasn’t going to mention this before because it’s quite absurd. But when we went with Rebecca yesterday to view the body at the morgue, there it was again, only stronger and more compelling.’

  Jack reached for his cup and looked at Tristan. He had seen that troubled expression before. It told him that Tristan was wrestling with something he couldn’t quite explain, but realised it was important and therefore had to be shared. It had to do with his intuition and his psychic powers, which from time to time seemed to overwhelm him. The blessing struggling with the curse.

  ‘Care to tell me about it?’

  ‘Only if you promise not to laugh.’

  ‘Promise.’

  ‘I firmly believe Stolzfus isn’t dead ...’

  ‘Do you realise what you are saying? Based on what? We got the wrong body, is that it?’

  ‘And there is something else ...’ said Tristan, sidestepping the question.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Danger.’

  ‘What kind of danger?’

  ‘It’s about you, and it’s imminent!’

  ‘About me? Tell me later. Here comes Rebecca now.’

  Teodora was carefully watching Jack’s table and biding her time. When the three of them got up and went to the buffet, she made her move.

  Teodora walked calmly across to the buffet table, took a plate and positioned herself next to Jack. ‘Ham looks nice, don’t you think?’ she observed casually, and put some ham on her plate.

  ‘Teodora!’ said Jack, surprised, ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I could ask the same question, but of course I know the answer. You’ve been in the news and all over the papers.’

  ‘Is Izabel with you?’

  ‘No, she stayed in Como. I drove down yesterday; urgent business.’

  ‘You’re by yourself then?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Come and join us.’

  ‘I will; thank you.’

  ‘You remember Tristan,’ said Jack and pointed to Tristan standing next to him.

  ‘Of course. Our charming host from Venice.’

  ‘And this is Rebecca Armstrong, Professor Stolzfus’s sister,’ continued Jack, lowering his voice. ‘She’s here to—’

  ‘I know,’ interrupted Teodora and walked back to the table with Jack. ‘It’s in all the papers ...’

  Tristan was carefully watching Teodora sitting opposite. She was making small talk that to him appeared somewhat contrived. Her mind and attention were somewhere else, and she seemed distracted and tense. Tristan was trying in vain to interpret the signals radiating from her. All were vague and confusing except for one: danger.

  Jack was oblivious to all this and appeared to be enjoying himself. Now, thought Teodora and reached into her pocket to press the send button on her mobile, sending a message to Silvanus to make the phone call. Moments later, Jack’s phone began to vibrate in his breast pocket.

  Teodora held her breath. She knew this was the tricky moment. Would Jack answer the phone or ignore it?

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Jack, ‘I must take this. Travel arrangements ...’ Jack pulled out his phone and the ringing stopped, but he saw that he had a message: ‘I have information about Stolzfus. Come to your room now,’ it said, ‘alone.’

  Teodora watched Jack out of the corner of her eye. This is it, she thought, realising that the next few seconds would define the entire project. Success or failu
re on a knife’s edge. It all depended on whether she had read Jack’s character correctly.

  Jack slipped his phone back into his pocket and put down his serviette, his mind racing. What the heck? he thought and stood up. ‘Please excuse me, I’ll be back in a moment,’ he said and hurried to the door. Teodora smiled. Curiosity had won the day. Tristan watched Jack walk away from the table, a feeling of dread making him choke.

  Jack stepped out of the lift on the third floor and looked around. The corridor seemed deserted. It’s a bloody hoax, he thought and was about to turn around and get back into the lift, when he felt something hard pressing against his back.

  ‘This isn’t my finger, but a silencer on a Glock,’ said a voice speaking softly. ‘Get back into the lift.’

  Jack did as he was told. He glanced at the tall man standing next to him. Another man was standing behind him, pressing the gun against his back. ‘We are three friends going down to the car park,’ said the man standing next to him. ‘Behave accordingly if you don’t want the gun to go off; clear?’

  Jack nodded.

  ‘Good,’ said the man and pressed the button.

  The lift went straight down to the basement without stopping. The car park was deserted. ‘The BMW over there,’ said the man next to Jack. ‘Get into the back seat.’

  Teodora could feel her mobile vibrating in her pocket. It was the prearranged signal telling her that everything had gone according to plan. ‘A little more of that delicious fruit, I think,’ she said, smiling at Tristan, and stood up. An icy shiver of fear raced down Tristan’s spine as he watched Teodora walk towards the buffet table. Instead of stopping to get another plate, she kept walking towards the exit.

  The black BMW headed east along the Viale Filippo Strozzi to join the SGC Firenze-Pisa-Livorno towards Livorno. Jack was sitting in the back seat next to Silvanus. Aladdin was sitting in the front next to Teodora, who was driving. The three of them were speaking Albanian, which Jack couldn’t understand. They covered the ninety kilometres to Livorno in just over an hour and boarded the Nike a short time later. Alessandro’s men were waiting for them at the harbour to dispose of the BMW they had sourced earlier and couldn’t be traced. A short time later, the Nike was on her way south, sailing towards Malta.

  35

  On the Caritas, Main Harbour, Malta: 1 July

  ‘We meet again, Mr Rogan,’ said Fabry cheerfully as he swept into the brightly lit laboratory deep in the dark bowels of the Caritas. ‘And so soon. An unexpected pleasure, I must say.’ Wearing a white coat and surgical gloves smelling of chloroform, he walked over to the steel table in the middle of the chamber and looked at Jack. It was the same table on which only a few days ago Stolzfus’s truncated body was being prepared for vivification.

  Barely able to move because of the tight leather straps tying him to the table and cutting into his bare chest and legs, Jack was lying on top of the table, naked, and blinded by the bright lights trained on him from above.

  ‘I wish I could say the same,’ said Jack, squinting at Fabry.

  ‘As you have shown such a keen interest in our vivification process, we thought it would be only fair to allow you to experience it firsthand, so to speak.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘We have just recently lost a precious specimen, which was in an acetone bath over there. It was confiscated by the Italian coastguard. But you know about all that don’t you, Mr Rogan? You were right here when it happened,’ continued Fabry, looking serious. ‘We need an urgent replacement – and you look like a perfect specimen to me.’

  ‘You can’t be serious!’ croaked Jack, who had barely slept a wink since his abduction in Florence and the twenty-hour sea voyage on the Nike from Livorno to Malta, locked in a tiny cabin without windows.

  ‘But I am; deadly serious. Before we begin, let me explain the main steps of the process to you again ...’

  ‘This is insane,’ protested Jack, squirming on the table.

  ‘You are right. It may be a little too much information because after the first step, you will be in no condition to follow the others. Once you are placed into that acetone bath over there, well ... do I make myself clear?’

  Over the years, Fabry had perfected the dark art of interrogation by using fear and suggestion as his main tools, and had elevated this technique to such an effective level that even the most stubborn and determined subjects capitulated in the end, answering all questions willingly and truthfully. An experienced medical practitioner, Fabry realised that using psychoactive drugs like scopolamine, ethanol, midazolam, or sodium thiopental as a ‘truth serum’ was notoriously unreliable and therefore ineffective, and what the Mafia needed was accurate information – quickly.

  Fabry had come up with a much better way. As all the information to be extracted was locked in the mind of the ‘subject’, it was only logical that one should focus on the mind when trying to obtain that information. Fabry’s approach varied from subject to subject and was tailored to suit the personality and character involved, but his approach and technique were the same.

  First, the subject was deprived of sleep for at least twenty-four hours before the interrogation began, to weaken any resistance and thus make the mind more pliable. In essence, this had already happened to Jack during his uncomfortable sea journey.

  In Jack’s case, Fabry had decided to use the vivification process and the very location of the interrogation, namely the intimidating laboratory on the Caritas where the actual bodies were being prepared, as his main ‘suggestion tools’. The fear of fear was far more effective than fear itself.

  ‘You may not have noticed, but there are several people present who are looking at you right now,’ said Fabry. ‘They are standing over there, watching.’ Fabry pointed over his shoulder. ‘Shortly, some of them will ask you questions. You have a choice. You can decide to answer the questions, truthfully of course, or decide to stay silent. If you choose the latter I will begin the vivification process, which I can assure you will not only be excruciatingly painful, but irreversible. The same applies if you lie or try to deceive by giving wrong answers. I’m sure you understand. So in the end, you see, it’s all up to you.’

  Standing in the shadows, Teodora was watching Fabry going through his chilling descriptions, preparing Jack for the horror to come. As soon as she had set eyes on Fabry earlier that evening, she realised at once that she was looking at the man who had butchered her parents all those years ago. The face, the voice, the bearing of the man all aligned with the memory of the terrified girl who had witnessed it all. Fabry’s face was etched into Teodora’s memory, never to be erased.

  Alessandro had arrived earlier that evening by plane with Rodrigo, and both had questions of their own. They wanted to hear what Jack had to say about the Stolzfus matter in general, and about MI5, the CIA, and especially the Squadra Mobile and the perceived involvement of the Mafia. But what caused Teodora to tremble with excitement was the phone call she had received earlier from Giordano in Florence, who of course had the ultimate say in the Stolzfus assignment as he was the client who had engaged them and paid the bills. Even his son didn’t know precisely what Spiridon had been instructed to do and why, although Teodora suspected that Rodrigo was in on all this.

  But what even Giordano couldn’t possibly have known was that Teodora had an agenda of her own as far as Fabry was concerned. Ironically, what Giordano had instructed her to do played perfectly into her hands. Not only would she be able to wipe out the monster who had haunted her all these years, but she would get paid for doing so.

  Just before they had entered the laboratory, Teodora had spoken briefly to Aladdin and Silvanus about their latest instructions. Being thorough professionals, they accepted the instructions without question and were standing by to carry them out. As usual, Teodora was in charge and would direct the matter.

  ‘Before we begin,’ said Fabry, ‘let me show you the implements I will use in preparing you for vivification in case you do not ans
wer the questions. First, this is the scalpel I will use to make an incision here, and here.’ Fabry held up the scalpel and pointed to an area on Jack’s chest, the touch of the cold steel making Jack’s skin creep.

  ‘And then, I will have to remove your eyes. To do that, I will use this here ...’

  Fabry continued for a few more minutes, explaining the process with clinical efficiency, which only added to the horror. This was of course quite deliberate and intended to intimidate and terrify the subject into submission, and prepare the way for the questioning to come.

  Jack listened in silence and evaluated the situation, his mind racing. He had been in tight spots before and knew that keeping calm and focused was essential if he wanted to get through this alive. He had no doubt that the best way forward was to cooperate fully from the beginning and answer all the questions. After all, he wouldn’t place anyone in danger, and as Stolzfus was dead, anything he was about to say or disclose couldn’t harm him either.

  ‘So, Mr Rogan, are we ready?’

  Jack just stared at Fabry without saying anything.

  ‘Very well, let us begin.’ Fabry lifted his hand, which was obviously a signal. Moments later, music drifted through the cold chamber, softly at first, but becoming louder by the second, adding drama and a level of excitement to what was about to happen.

  Good heavens, thought Jack. Tchaikovsky’s Lost Symphony! It’s what Tristan kept hearing ... What does it all mean, I wonder?

  Then the questions began. First, Alessandro wanted to know what Jack’s involvement and interest was in the Stolzfus matter. Jack explained that Rebecca Armstrong – Professor Stolzfus’s sister who was running his publishing company in New York – had asked for his help after she had found out that her brother had disappeared.