The Curious Case of the Missing Head

by Gabriel Farago

  Deeply moved, Jack was unable to stop the tears streaming down his cheeks. He too hadn’t slept much during the night. A strong believer in destiny, he began to smile. ‘I have been looking for you for a long time,’ he whispered after a while, as a tide of mixed emotions began to well up from somewhere deep within, filling his heart with great joy. It was a feeling he had never experienced before, like seeing a welcoming light beckoning in the distance, and finally coming home after a long absence in the wilderness. As the turbulent tide of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him began to ebb, Jack looked into Rahima’s eyes and recognised the same feeling: it was love. For Rahima, it was not just any love, but the love of a grieving mother aching for a lost child she hadn’t dared to hope to ever see again.

  For the next hour, mother and son sat next to each other holding hands in the front pew and speaking of the past. Jack told Rahima of his search for his father, and how and where he had discovered what had happened to him. He explained how murals painted on the walls of a prison cell in Fremantle Prison had pointed the way to the Kimberley in Western Australia and ultimately to the Kimberley Queen, the largest pearl ever found in the Antipodes.

  They smiled when Jack told Rahima about Madame Petrova’s memory trees and the oak tree she had planted to commemorate her lost niece, and they cried when Jack spoke of the two lonely graves at the Coberg Mission he had visited to keep a promise after Gurrul died.

  ‘Sister Elizabeth, your mother,’ said Jack, ‘is buried next to Brother Francis ...’

  ‘Your grandparents,’ said Rahima.

  ‘Yes, and Gurrul’s ashes have returned to his beloved land. They all rest in peace together on the abandoned mission, but I never stopped looking for you ...’

  Rahima squeezed Jack’s hand. ‘Why?’ she asked.

  ‘Because I needed to know ...’

  ‘Needed to know what?’

  ‘What happened to you. No-one just disappears without a trace. And there was something else ...’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Throughout all these years, I sensed something.’

  ‘What did you sense?’

  ‘That somehow, somewhere, you were still alive.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. I only returned from the Nuba Mountains a couple of weeks ago. I was there, looking for you.’

  ‘You were looking for me?’ said Rahima, surprised.

  ‘Yes. I visited a village called Fungor, where I met someone very interesting. An old man who remembered a young, golden-haired woman who was taking photographs of a spectacular knife-fighting ritual just before Arab slavers raided the village ...’

  ‘What else did he tell you?’

  ‘Many were killed, but most of the women and girls, including the golden-haired woman, were taken away by the slavers.’

  ‘That’s the day my old life ended,’ said Rahima, ‘and Natasha Rostova died ...’

  ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘She became Rahima. I was taken to the slave market in Khartoum and put up for sale.’

  ‘And?’ prompted Jack, eager to find out what happened.

  ‘There was serious bidding and I was almost sold to an Arab trader when someone else entered the bidding. A handsome young man. His name was Hernando Cordoba, a notorious arms dealer.’

  ‘He bought you?’

  ‘Yes. From then on, my life changed for the better. We actually fell in love. Hernando was very good to me; still is, in his own way. We came to live here in Bogota, his hometown, and two years later Alonso was born. Your half-brother, who is now on death row in Arizona.’

  Destiny, thought Jack, shaking his head. This is all about destiny.

  ‘Can’t you see? All this was meant to be,’ continued Rahima, her face flushed with zeal. ‘God has brought you here for a reason. It’s not just about you and me. It’s about Alonso as well; where he is and what he is facing. I have been on my knees here praying for hours since Alonso was sentenced to death. I was begging for his life. I believe God has heard my prayers and sent you ...’

  For a while, Jack and Rahima sat in silence, lost in thought as they tried to come to terms with everything.

  ‘The moment of unimaginable joy of finding you is marred by fear that is tearing my heart apart. Fear for Alonso,’ whispered Rahima. ‘This is a bittersweet moment and only you can set things right.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘By helping Hernando to save our son. I’m sure that’s why you’ve been sent here, now, at this crucial time. This is no coincidence. This is fate; the hand of God.’

  Rahima turned to face Jack and put the tips of her fingers on the little cross. ‘Please promise me, my son.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘To do everything you can to save Alonso.’

  ‘I promise,’ said Jack, putting his hand on Rahima’s and pressing it to his chest.

  ‘And one more thing,’ continued Rahima. ‘Please keep all this to yourself for the time being ...’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Hernando is a complex man. He’s changed over the years. He has a lot on his mind right now. To find out who you are would only—’

  ‘I understand,’ interrupted Jack, sensing that Rahima was struggling to find the right words.

  ‘And will you promise?’

  ‘I promise,’ said Jack.

  Rahima bent down and kissed the back of Jack’s hand, the touch of her lips making him choke with emotion.

  47

  Naval Support Activity Naples: 13 July

  ‘Vice Admiral Fratelli will see you now,’ said the young officer, the polished buttons on her smart uniform gleaming like tiny beacons. ‘Please come with me.’

  Andersen, Cesaria and Tristan stood up and followed the officer along a brightly lit corridor and then up some stairs to the first floor. Despite the late hour – it was just after ten pm – it was a hive of activity at the NSA Naples, home to the US Naval Forces Europe and the US Sixth Fleet.

  Andersen had received instruction from her superiors in Washington that afternoon to go immediately to Naples and report to Vice Admiral Fratelli, who had some important information in the Stolzfus matter.

  ‘We came as soon as we could,’ said Andersen and introduced her friend, the vice admiral, to Cesaria and Tristan.

  ‘I heard a lot about you,’ said Fratelli and shook Tristan’s hand. ‘As I understand it, you were the one who first suggested that Professor Stolzfus could be alive.’

  ‘That’s correct, but I don’t think anyone believed me.’

  ‘Hardly surprising, but someone in Washington obviously did and in a way, that changed everything.’

  ‘I thought this was about the men in custody here ...’ interjected Andersen, who had assumed that Aladdin or Silvanus, or perhaps the crew of the Nike must have talked.

  Fratelli shook her head. ‘By way of background to what happened this morning, I have been instructed to tell you this—’

  ‘Oh? By who?’ asked Andersen, annoyed that she hadn’t been briefed.

  ‘The highest level. The secretary of state. And please remember that all of this is classified.’

  Andersen bit her lip in anticipation as Fratelli continued.

  ‘After it became clear that the Mafia was involved in Professor Stolzfus’s abduction and that the abduction appeared to be somehow linked to the H Cartel in Colombia, it was decided to bring the execution of Alonso Cordoba forward. As you know, Alonso Cordoba is the son of Hernando Cordoba, the wanted head of the H Cartel. Alonso is presently on death row in Arizona, awaiting execution.’

  ‘We know that,’ said Andersen, becoming impatient. ‘But how is this relevant?’

  ‘You’ll see in a moment,’ said Fratelli calmly. ‘The execution was brought forward to put pressure on Hernando Cordoba.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because Washington suspects that Stolzfus’s abduction has something to do with Alonso’s execution.’

  ‘That’s absurd!’ interrupted Andersen. ‘Based on
what?’

  ‘Certain intercepted telephone conversations and internet traffic.’

  ‘What kind of conversations?’

  ‘Conversations between Raul Rodrigo, the lawyer who has recently been interrogated in New York, and Hernando Cordoba, his notorious client. The CIA have had Rodrigo under surveillance for some time.’

  ‘So, what happened this morning?’ asked Andersen.

  ‘Alonso Cordoba was due to be executed at nine am this morning. A last-minute appeal lodged by Rodrigo had been dismissed, clearing the way for the execution to go ahead, but it didn’t.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because of this. Watch.’

  Fratelli pointed to a large TV in the corner of her office and pressed a button on the remote control on her desk. ‘This recording was delivered by Rodrigo to the US ambassador in Bogota this morning, a few minutes before the execution was due to start.’

  After a couple of seconds, a man lying on an operating table came into view. It was Stolzfus. Then the camera swung around and showed a man wearing a surgical gown, face mask and scrub cap standing in a brightly lit operating theatre. First, the man pointed to Stolzfus and explained his life-threatening injuries. Then he explained the complex operation he was about to perform to save the patient’s life.

  ‘That’s Fabry,’ said Tristan, pointing to the screen. Step by step the man in the gown described what a cephalosomatic anastomosis was, and what it involved. He pointed out that it had never been performed on a live patient before, but that he was confident it could be carried out successfully. After that, clips from the various stages of the operation were shown, including the surgical removal of Stolzfus’s head and a close-up of another body without a head in a sitting position, strapped into an operating chair.

  Cesaria gasped as the camera showed a team of surgeons attaching Stolzfus’s head to the headless body, the music playing in the background sounding eerie and surreal.

  ‘That’s the music I kept hearing,’ said Tristan, becoming excited, ‘Tchaikovsky’s Lost Symphony ...’

  To Cesaria, the surgeons and theatre nurses in their green scrubs and face masks, hovering over the patient, looked like actors in some bizarre play, their deliberate, slow movements and strange-looking instruments sending shivers down her spine.

  Fratelli stopped the video and looked at Andersen. ‘What do you think?’ she said.

  Andersen shook her head. ‘Incredible! Do we know if the operation was successful?’

  Without saying a word, Fratelli pressed the remote again and the video continued. After a brief pause, the camera zoomed in on a man sitting in a wheelchair, his shaved head supported by an elaborate frame.

  Andersen gasped. ‘It’s Stolzfus,’ she said. ‘I don’t believe it!’

  Then the man’s eyes opened and he began to speak, his voice sounding distant and strange, like an echo from somewhere deep within. He was conscious and appeared lucid. ‘Castle to b3,’ said the voice as the camera swung around and showed a chessboard on a small table in front of the wheelchair, before coming to rest on another man sitting opposite.

  ‘That’s Jack!’ Tristan almost shouted and pointed to the screen. Jack looked at the camera and smiled. ‘Checkmate again,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I can’t win against this guy. That’s what you get when you have a genius as your opponent!’

  ‘We believe this was taken last week on a ship heading for Colombia,’ said Fratelli. ‘But wait; it gets better.’

  The next scene showed the man in the wheelchair in a tropical garden full of exotic-looking plants. ‘I love sitting out here and looking up at the sky,’ said the man, his voice sounding strong, ‘and thinking about the universe ...’

  ‘And now comes the really interesting bit,’ said Fratelli. ‘Watch and listen carefully.’

  The next scene showed a shortish, elderly man standing next to the wheelchair with one hand resting on Stolzfus’s shoulder.

  ‘I am Hernando Cordoba,’ said the man, ‘speaking to you from Bogota. My son Alonso is about to be executed in Arizona. To the US I say this: If you want to enjoy the benefits of Professor Stolzfus’s extraordinary talents again, please stop the execution because if you don’t ...’ Cordoba paused, letting the threat find its mark, ‘the professor’s genius will benefit someone else. You must decide now,’ he continued, ‘because there isn’t much time! The professor’s fate is in your hands.’ Then the screen went blank.

  ‘He didn’t mention Jack!’ was the first thing Tristan said.

  ‘We wondered about that too,’ said Fratelli, ‘and what role Mr Rogan is to play in this complicated business, but the intelligence consensus seems to be that Cordoba wanted to focus on Stolzfus without causing distractions, and that’s the reason he didn’t mention Rogan. But he did show him to us in the video as someone who is obviously in Bogota as well, and close to Stolzfus. They were shown playing chess.’

  ‘So, Jack Rogan’s abduction is considered a distraction? Is that it?’ asked Tristan.

  ‘Not by us,’ said Fratelli. ‘But it’s unclear at the moment why he has been abducted and what Cordoba has in mind. However, the fact he has been taken to Colombia makes him important. A man like Cordoba does nothing without good reason.’

  ‘There’s something else that struck me as rather strange,’ said Andersen.

  Fratelli looked at her friend. ‘I know what you are going to say.’

  ‘“If you want to enjoy the benefits of Professor Stolzfus’s talents again”,’ continued Andersen, ‘“the professor’s genius will benefit someone else”. Odd, isn’t it? Cordoba’s threat is focusing on Stolzfus’s talents, not his life.’

  ‘Correct, and we believe that’s an important clue and quite deliberate.’

  ‘In what way?’ asked Cesaria.

  ‘What is in play here is Stolzfus’s mind; what he knows and what he is capable of,’ said Fratelli. ‘As one of the most gifted scientists on the planet, his value is his mind, not his life as such. Cordoba knows this and is telling us that he knows.’

  ‘Yes, I thought that too,’ Andersen agreed. ‘Cordoba has gone to extraordinary lengths to keep Stolzfus alive and his brain functioning. He is clearly showing us this in the video. Playing chess and winning?’

  ‘So, what does all that mean?’ asked Cesaria.

  ‘Cordoba is giving the US a chance to get Stolzfus back,’ said Tristan, ‘in return for his son. If they don’t go along with this, then he will make arrangements with someone else. I believe that’s what this is all about. That’s the real threat here. Not killing Stolzfus, but keeping him alive and giving him to someone else to use.’

  Fratelli looked at Tristan, surprised by his insight. ‘That’s what our analysts think as well. There are a number of parties standing in the shadows around the world who would not only pay a fortune, but do whatever it takes to get their hands on Stolzfus or, more accurately, his mind.’

  ‘Cordoba is playing a clever game,’ said Andersen. ‘And a very dangerous one. It takes a special man to threaten a superpower.’

  ‘Desperate people do desperate things,’ said Tristan.

  ‘Do you think Washington will go along with this?’ asked Andersen.

  ‘Don’t know. I think that’s why you’ve been ordered to return to Washington as soon as possible,’ said Fratelli. ‘I have a plane standing by to take you to Rome right now. You are booked on a flight to Washington first thing tomorrow morning.’

  Andersen nodded. She had been expecting something like this.

  ‘And one more thing,’ continued Fratelli. ‘I’ve been asked to persuade Tristan to go with you. Because of Jack Rogan, I suppose ...’

  Andersen looked at Tristan, the question on her face obvious.

  ‘No persuasion needed,’ said Tristan, ‘I’m ready.’

  ‘I was hoping you would say that,’ said Andersen. ‘And I can promise you that from now on, I will look at your “intuition” in a completely different way. And as for Jack, I will do everything i
n my power to get him back safely.’

  ‘And let’s not forget,’ interjected Cesaria, ‘Tristan can hear the whisper of angels and glimpse eternity ...’

  ‘Could come in useful,’ said Andersen, smiling.

  ‘Thanks, guys. Jack needs us,’ said Tristan. ‘This is serious. That’s why I’m going along with all this.’

  On the flight to Rome, Andersen sat next to Cesaria. ‘What about your own investigation? The Mafia in Florence?’ she asked, watching Cesaria carefully.

  ‘As you know, Grimaldi met with Riccardo Giordano a few days ago and put a proposal to him,’ said Cesaria.

  ‘What kind of proposal?’

  ‘Remember, Grimaldi knows Giordano well. As chief prosecutor in Florence, Grimaldi has one main aim: to keep the city safe and the Mafia contained, especially with the growing drug problem spiralling out of control.’

  ‘And how is he hoping to achieve that?’

  ‘By putting pressure on the Giordano family. Alessandro’s involvement in the Stolzfus matter has given Grimaldi the perfect opportunity to do this.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘The proposal is as simple as it is ingenious. Once again, Grimaldi is using old Mafia rivalries to get his own way. In this case, the rivalry between the Lombardos and the Giordanos, the two Mafia families controlling the lucrative drug business in Florence. By going behind the Lombardos’ backs and negotiating with the H Cartel direct – most likely about the drug supply – Alessandro has put the uneasy truce between the two families in jeopardy. Should this come to light and the Lombardos find out about this, Alessandro’s life would be in serious danger. Should he be killed, this would trigger another bloody Mafia war in Florence, which Grimaldi wants to avoid at all cost. Effectively, the drug supply line through Malta involving the H Cartel is dead, at least for now. This affects the Lombardos and the Giordanos equally. But should the Lombardos find out that Alessandro was in some way responsible for this, and why, well ... then his days would be numbered. In Mafia circles you don’t get away with something like this. Honour and reputations are at stake here.’