The Curious Case of the Missing Head

by Gabriel Farago

  Andersen looked at the fuel gauge. Almost empty. Jesus! she thought. Just enough for one more pass if I’m lucky. Andersen swung the plane around and lined up for another landing. By now it was so dark she couldn’t see the flight deck at all, nor the landing lights, as heavy rain descended like a final curtain, covering the Endeavor like a shroud.

  I’m flying completely blind, thought Andersen, staring at the controls in front of her, the calm voice of the LSO the only lifeline left to guide her in safely.

  LSO: ‘You are doing well, 201. Steady now and a little more power. Good. You are almost down. Watch the lights. Can you see them?’

  ‘No! Nothing!’

  ‘Steady … can you see the lights now? You are almost on top of them!’

  ‘Yes!’

  For an instant, the rain curtain parted and Andersen could see the flight deck and the arresting wires below and knew exactly what to do. Almost down, she thought, going calmly through the required steps. But just before the tail hook could snare the third wire, which was now within easy reach, a sudden, freak windshear hit the jet from the left, forcing it upwards and sideways. The plane, by now off course, missed the tail hook by centimetres, veered to starboard, slammed at high speed into a plane parked on deck and instantly burst into flames. The violent impact of the crash sent one of the severed wings of the parked plane flying high into the air. Missing the windows of the Carrier Air Traffic Control Center by a whisker, it spun around like a huge piece of cardboard, and then crashed into the sea below. The last thing Andersen saw as the cockpit around her disintegrated was a blinding wall of fire racing towards her as the fuel tanks exploded.

  ‘Good God!’ whispered Jack as he watched the carnage below. By now, fire crews were descending on the burning planes from all sides, attempting to put out the raging fire that had engulfed the aircraft and was threatening to spread to others parked close by.

  Apart from Andersen, whose charred remains were almost unrecognisable, four deck crew had been incinerated and eight others seriously injured. The Super Hornet was completely destroyed, and three other planes severely damaged. The only fortunate outcome was that the flight deck had remained intact and operational, and damage to the Endeavor minimal.

  55

  Naval Base San Diego: 19 July

  Naval Base San Diego, known to locals as 32nd Street Naval Station, was the second-largest surface ship base in the United States and home of the Pacific Fleet. As big as a small town and spread over a large area, it employed twenty-four thousand military personnel and ten thousand civilians.

  After the fiery crash that had killed Andersen, Jack and Tristan were escorted back to their cabin and told to remain there until their return to San Diego could be arranged. McBride was furious when he found out that Jack and Tristan had witnessed the disaster and reprimanded the officer who had given them access to the Carrier Air Traffic Control Center to watch the return of the planes. This was a clear breach of protocol and a great embarrassment, especially in such a sensitive and difficult situation.

  The officer, who was also in charge of their transfer, was tight-lipped, even frosty, thought Jack, and didn’t answer any of Jack’s questions. The only thing he did tell them was that they would be returned to the naval base in San Diego for debriefing as soon as possible. The mood on the ship was tense and subdued. The entire crew appeared to be grieving, and it was obvious that outsiders were not welcome. The crash had taken a huge toll on everyone.

  When they were taken to the helicopter waiting for them on the flight deck during the night, Jack noticed that the wreckage had been cleared away and the only evidence of the disaster was the three damaged planes still parked on deck, looking like injured birds with their singed wings clipped.

  After landing at the naval base in San Diego early in the morning, Jack and Tristan were taken under guard to a nondescript building and told to wait.

  ‘What do you think is going on here, mate?’ asked Tristan and pointed to the stony-faced, uniformed guard watching them.

  ‘Not sure, but I think we’ve seen and heard things we were not supposed to …’

  ‘The crash? I still can’t get my mind around it. Andersen dead? Can you believe it?’

  ‘Not just that. There’s a lot more going on here than we realise.’

  ‘Bogota?’ said Tristan.

  Jack looked at him sadly and shrugged. ‘The worst thing is not knowing what really happened. It’s the uncertainty. With Andersen dead, they pulled the shutters down. Firmly!’

  Tristan put his hand on Jack’s shoulder, trying to comfort his distraught friend. ‘I understand,’ he said.

  Jack had tried to call Rahima several times before leaving the Endeavor, but without success. Tristan’s satellite phone had been useless and without reception. Jack suspected the phone had been jammed.

  ‘And not a word about Stolzfus either; nothing,’ he said. ‘After all we’ve been through. They obviously want to get rid of us. I don’t like this at all. I think we’re caught up in something big here that went terribly wrong.’

  Tired and irritable, Jack ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath.

  ‘That’s just great!’ said Tristan. ‘And we are right in the middle of it.’

  ‘Is that a complaint?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘May I remind you that coming along was your idea? You pleaded with me, if I remember correctly.’

  ‘True, but I didn’t know it would turn out like this, did I?’

  ‘You wanted a change and an adventure.’

  ‘I sure got one.’

  ‘Would you rather be back in Venice welcoming visitors in your posh hotel, mate?’ continued Jack. ‘Matrimonial bliss, Venice style?’

  ‘That hurt and you know it. You can be very annoying at times. That’s why they call you an incorrigible rascal, I suppose.’

  ‘It’s a term of endearment.’

  ‘Exasperation more like it.’

  ‘That’s below the belt.’

  ‘Is it? Well, I can think of several—’

  ‘Shush!’ interrupted Jack, lowering his voice. ‘Here comes someone.’

  A naval officer in a crisp white uniform walked up to Jack and gave him a disapproving look. Jack felt like a vagrant in his crumpled shirt and jacket, a two-day-stubble sprouting on his cheeks and bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. ‘Please follow me, gentlemen,’ said the officer, turning up his nose. ‘Dr Hubert is waiting.’

  ‘The director of the CIA? Here? Interesting. How about a shower and a shave first?’ said Jack. ‘We must try to look our best, don’t you think?’

  ‘Please follow me,’ repeated the officer, ignoring the frivolous remark.

  Jack turned to Tristan. ‘Arrogant bastard. Ready for the debrief, mate?’ said Jack. ‘I have a feeling all of our questions are about to be answered.’

  ‘They obviously want something from us. I’m sure the top honcho didn’t travel halfway across the country just to see if we’re okay.’

  ‘What do you think they want?’

  ‘You really want to know?’ said Tristan.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Our silence.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. Let’s find out. Still cross?’

  ‘No. I can’t wait!’

  Dr Hubert waited until the officer had left the room and closed the door behind him, then she walked over to Jack and shook his hand. ‘Good to meet you at last, Mr Rogan. I’ve heard so much about you.’

  ‘From Tristan, no doubt,’ said Jack. ‘He’s a little biased. You can’t believe everything he tells you.’

  ‘Not just from him, but from many others. You are quite an enigma, Mr Rogan, and quite a celebrity. We could use someone like you in the service. Interested?’

  ‘I would make a terrible spy and would only disappoint you,’ retorted Jack, enjoying the banter. To his surprise, he had taken an instant liking to Dr Hubert and felt totally at ease in the company of the powerful woman wh
o had most likely ordered the air strike on Bogota.

  ‘Please take a seat,’ continued Hubert affably. ‘We have much to discuss, and don’t mind my assistant over there. She’s taking notes of our conversation. Protocol.’

  ‘Fine by me, as long as you don’t mind my appearance.’ Jack ran his hand over the stubble sprouting on his cheeks. ‘As you know, we’ve been travelling all night, and the transport hasn’t been exactly business class.’

  My kind of guy, thought Hubert and burst out laughing. ‘Appearances have never bothered me. It’s what’s behind them that counts.’

  Hubert sat down in a chair facing Jack and Tristan. ‘Before we begin, I must establish the ground rules,’ she said, turning serious.

  ‘What ground rules?’ asked Jack.

  ‘Everything I’m about to tell you here is classified information. It will explain everything that has happened recently. It has been decided at the highest level to share it with you, but only if you agree to be bound by the secrecy rules under the relevant US legislation. All CIA operatives are bound by those rules and I must tell you, breaches have serious consequences—’

  ‘But we are not part of the CIA,’ interrupted Jack.

  ‘For present purposes, you are deemed to be. You will see in a moment why. All of this is a matter of national security. Highly sensitive.’

  Hubert signalled to her assistant, who brought two pieces of paper over to the table and handed one to Jack and one to Tristan.

  ‘Please read this carefully. If you are prepared to sign, we can continue. If not, I will have to ask you to leave.’

  Jack read the short document and looked at Tristan. Tristan nodded, as keen as Jack was to hear what Hubert had to say. Both Jack and Tristan signed the documents.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Hubert and sat back in her chair. ‘I would have been very surprised and disappointed if you had refused. We have come such a long way in this matter together, it would have been a shame to see it all fall apart at this late stage.’ Hubert paused and looked at Jack. ‘Especially after Major Andersen so valiantly sacrificed her life for the cause,’ she added sadly.

  ‘And what cause might that have been?’ asked Jack, carefully watching Hubert. A seasoned journalist, he knew how to ask probing questions and what to look for in the body language during the answer.

  ‘The rescue of Professor Stolzfus, of course, and the destruction of the H Cartel that was behind his abduction,’ replied Hubert without hesitation. ‘And both objectives have been achieved, albeit at a very high price.’

  ‘Care to elaborate?’

  ‘Sure. The handover of Professor Stolzfus you witnessed firsthand. You were instrumental in bringing it about and were there when it happened. In fact, you were part of the package.’

  ‘And the destruction of the H Cartel?’

  ‘A different matter altogether. A very sensitive one. You would have seen six fighter jets take off from the Endeavor shortly after your arrival, correct?’

  Jack nodded. Here it comes, he thought, expecting the worst.

  ‘What you may not know is this: the jets were on a top-secret mission ordered by the president himself.’

  ‘What mission?’ asked Jack, sounding hoarse.

  ‘Five of the jets hit targets hidden deep in the jungle close to the coast. Secret drug-processing plants operated by the H Cartel. All were successfully destroyed.’

  ‘And the sixth plane?’

  ‘Major Andersen’s mission took her deeper into Colombian airspace, to Bogota. Her mission – the most difficult of them all – was to hit the H Cartel compound where you and Professor Stolzfus had been held hostage just a few hours before the strike.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Our operatives on the ground confirmed that the air strike was a great success. The compound has been obliterated. Nothing left.’

  ‘Any survivors?’ asked Jack, beginning to choke. If Hubert noticed his discomfort, she certainly didn’t show it and would certainly not have been aware of the reason behind it.

  ‘We believe not. But we do know that Major Andersen paid a very heavy price for that success.’

  ‘And the Colombian authorities had no problem with all this foreign military activity on their soil?’ asked Tristan, stepping in to give Jack some time to recover.

  ‘No. The Colombian Government knew about the mission and okayed it. They have tried in vain for years to bring the H Cartel to heel, and welcomed the air strikes. Some trade deals and promises of aid definitely helped.’

  Jack shook his head.

  ‘To keep America safe isn’t always easy, Mr Rogan, and we must often do certain things we would rather forget, but that’s the real world. I’m sure you know that as well as I do.’

  ‘And Dr Agabe, who so diligently looked after Stolzfus?’

  ‘Collateral damage, just like Major Andersen.’

  ‘And Rodrigo too, I suppose.’

  ‘No. We made sure he was with the US ambassador at the time of the air strike.’

  ‘You spared him?’ asked Jack, frowning. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because we need him to help us unravel the H Cartel business empire. There are hundreds of millions of cocaine dollars invested in the US and around the world. Proceeds of crime. Rodrigo is the only one who knows where it all is and how it all works.’

  Jack looked impressed. Clever, he thought, nodding his head.

  ‘And he also knows the supply routes and arrangements with the buyers, and that is what we are really after,’ continued Hubert. ‘He’s back in New York in his office helping us with our enquiries.’

  ‘Lucky guy,’ said Jack.

  ‘Very predictable. Typical lawyer, doing everything he can to save his skin.’

  ‘And the release of Alonso Cordoba? The deal? What about that?’ asked Jack.

  ‘I’m glad you mentioned that, because this brings me to the next subject.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘The official line.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Jack.

  ‘You will in a moment. Needless to say, the press and the public at large will be told a different story.’

  ‘What kind of story?’

  Hubert looked at her watch. ‘In about an hour, the White House will release a statement. A nation hungry for news about Professor Stolzfus’s fate will learn how a secret operation carried out by Navy SEALs from the aircraft carrier USS Endeavour managed to liberate Professor Stolzfus and take him back to the carrier, where he is recovering right now.’

  Jack looked stunned. ‘But what about the exchange? What about the release of Alonso Cordoba?’

  ‘Alonso Cordoba was executed in Arizona yesterday morning, just before the Navy SEALs liberated Professor Stolzfus. A statement has already been released by the prison authorities to that effect.’

  ‘Is that the official line?’ asked Jack.

  ‘It is. Alonso Cordoba is dead. Killed during yesterday’s air strike together with everyone who was in the compound at the time, and that includes his notorious father, Hernando Cordoba.’

  ‘What about the air strikes?’

  ‘There were no air strikes. Rival cartels armed to the teeth fight one another all the time in Colombia with sophisticated weapons, including powerful rockets and so on. The Colombian Government will release a statement later today, telling the world that a violent turf war had broken out in Bogota between rival cartels, triggered by the high-profile Stolzfus affair, resulting in the destruction of the H Cartel’s headquarters and the death of its notorious leader, Hernando Cordoba. Ironically, he perished at about the same time his convicted son was executed in Arizona according to US law. Poetic justice, wouldn’t you say? The press will go nuts and have a field day with all this.’

  ‘And the public will buy all that?’ asked Tristan.

  Hubert smiled. ‘It will do more than that, it will love it. And so will the press. American pride and military muscle are always popular stories, especially before an election. Everyone will feel good a
nd most importantly, the president will look good. A win for all with a happy ending. That’s the stuff of successful foreign policy, gentlemen, and we are grateful for your contribution. Especially yours, Mr Rogan. Without your articles and the vital information you provided, this would never have happened.’

  ‘And the New York Times will go along with all this?’ asked Jack.

  ‘We already spoke to Celia Crawford—’

  ‘And?’

  ‘She will be given a head start about the story and be one of the first to report it. In fact, she will be the one to break the story about the rescue, just as she had done with Stolzfus and his abduction.’

  Clever, thought Jack. A little bribe obviously goes a long way. ‘How’s Professor Stolzfus?’ he asked, changing direction.

  For a moment Hubert paused, considering how best to answer, and how much to reveal. Realising that Jack and Stolzfus had forged a close bond, she decided to reveal all. ‘He’s in quite a bad way, I’m afraid. He seems to have lost his speech altogether,’ she said.

  ‘But that would trap him inside a useless body, unable to communicate,’ said Tristan. ‘A horrible fate for a man like that.’

  ‘I’m afraid you’re right. But we are doing everything we can to address this. The best medical minds in the country are working on this right now.’

  Jack shook his head. ‘This is dreadful. After all that’s happened—’

  ‘I have something to give you,’ said Hubert, trying to defuse the rising tension.

  ‘Oh?’

  Hubert signalled to her assistant, who came over and placed something on the table in front of Jack.

  ‘Your passport and your wallet with all your credit cards you left behind in the room safe in Florence, and your phone,’ said Hubert. ‘Cesaria Borroni sends her regards.’

  ‘You can always rely on Cesaria,’ said Jack. ‘Thank you. We go back a long way.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I’m very worried about Stolzfus,’ said Jack, returning to the subject on everyone’s mind.

  ‘So are we.’

  ‘For a gifted scientist like him to be unable to communicate is not only a great tragedy, but a fate worse than death.’ Jack reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a wad of papers and put them on the table in front of him. ‘Especially during such a critical time …’