The Curious Case of the Missing Head

by Gabriel Farago

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Hubert.

  ‘You may not know this,’ continued Jack, ‘but during our sea journey to Colombia, Stolzfus came out of his coma and was surprisingly lucid and able to communicate. In fact, he spoke to me for hours and asked me to write down certain equations and calculations relating to the theory of everything he has been so obsessed with for years.’

  ‘Oh?’ Hubert looked at the papers on the table. She hadn’t expected this.

  ‘Stolzfus asked me a favour, and I made a promise. In fact, I made two promises.’

  ‘What kind of promises?’

  ‘To deliver these papers to the Genius Club where he worked, because the club would understand what it all meant.’

  ‘I see. May I have a look?’

  Jack nodded and Hubert picked up the papers covered in equations, diagrams and calculations, looking like pages of a Leonardo Da Vinci manuscript.

  ‘I will have to take these, I’m afraid,’ she said, ‘and have them examined by our analysts to see if they contain any matters of national security.’

  ‘What are you getting at?’

  ‘I’m sure you know that Professor Stolzfus worked on highly sensitive projects involving the military. Defence systems, artificial intelligence, space weapons programs and so on.’

  ‘I know, but I made a promise,’ said Jack.

  ‘I understand that, and you have my word that these papers will be returned to you straight away if they do not contain any sensitive material. If that turns out to be the case, I will make arrangements for you to meet with the Genius Club as soon as possible so that you can hand them over and deliver the professor’s message personally. You said there were two promises.’

  Jack nodded. ‘Yes. I also promised to meet with his sister to arrange something that was very important to the professor. As you know, she’s my publicist and runs my publishing company in New York.’

  ‘I know. Please tell me what was so important?’ Hubert wanted to know.

  ‘It may seem trivial in the context of geopolitics and national security, but to a man like Stolzfus who found himself in such an extraordinary predicament, it was hugely important, and I promised—’

  ‘Please get to the point, Mr Rogan,’ interrupted Hubert, becoming impatient.

  ‘To look after Gizmo,’ said Jack, his voice barely audible.

  ‘Gizmo? Who is Gizmo?’

  Jack paused, struggling with the answer because he realised it might come out the wrong way and sound like some kind of joke.

  ‘Yes?’ prompted Hubert.

  ‘Gizmo is Stolzfus’s little dog who accompanied him everywhere, even to his lectures. He’s quite famous and very popular. A real personality, much loved by all.’

  Hubert looked incredulous. ‘Gizmo is a dog?’ she said, shaking her head. ‘We are discussing arrangements for a dog here? Are you serious, Mr Rogan?’

  Tristan could see that Jack was becoming annoyed and was about to let fly. Here it comes, he thought and sat back, smiling. I’m going to enjoy this!

  ‘Yes, I am. It may sound astonishing, perhaps even ridiculous to you to talk about something like this here, but a promise is a promise. I made a promise to a desperate man who went to attend the memorial service of a fellow scientist he admired. A man you and your organisation promised to protect, but failed to. And we know what happened to him, don’t we? The least we can do now is to be a little generous and considerate when we pick up the pieces!’

  For a long, tense moment, Hubert didn’t say anything and just looked at Jack with dismay. She wasn’t used to being reprimanded. ‘Touché. You are right,’ she said at last. ‘If we ignore the little things, the human elements in what we do, we are bound to fail. I’m glad you reminded me of that. I understand where you are coming from. Would you like to pick up the little dog and meet with Stolzfus’s sister soon? To honour your promise?’

  ‘Yes, I would,’ said Jack, pleasantly surprised by Hubert’s reply.

  ‘Rebecca Armstrong is back in New York right now and has been asking many questions. Especially after those explosive articles appeared.’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  ‘I’ll arrange a flight.’

  ‘Thank you, I would appreciate that,’ said Jack, and decided to press on. ‘Where is Stolzfus now?’ he asked. ‘She’s bound to ask me.’

  ‘In a military hospital, receiving the best treatment possible. We are doing everything we can to—’

  ‘Does she know he’s been handed over?’ interrupted Jack.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Could she see him?’

  ‘A little later perhaps.’

  ‘Could I?’

  ‘Later.’

  ‘I see. And what about the Giordano family? They get off scot-free?’

  ‘Not entirely. Just before Major Andersen went on her Bogota mission, she sent me a detailed report about this very topic and made an interesting suggestion.’

  ‘What kind of suggestion?’ asked Jack.

  ‘I can’t disclose that right now, but if it works, I can assure you the Giordano family, and especially Alessandro, will wish they’d never heard of Professor Stolzfus. We are working with Chief Prosecutor Grimaldi and the Squadra Mobile in Florence on this right now.’

  ‘I hope it works,’ said Jack.

  ‘So do we. Well, that just about wraps it all up for now,’ said Hubert and looked sardonically at Jack and Tristan. ‘May I assume we understand one another?’

  ‘We do,’ said Jack, and Tristan nodded.

  ‘I would appreciate it if you could both stay away from the press, at least for the moment, to give us some time …’

  ‘I understand,’ said Jack.

  ‘And you, Mr Te Papatahi? What are your plans?’

  ‘I have to return to Venice.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Tristan has a famous wife,’ interjected Jack, giving Tristan a cheeky grin. ‘Italian … He has to get back.’

  ‘Major Andersen told me,’ said Hubert smiling. ‘The Top Chef Europe winner.’

  ‘Very formidable,’ continued Jack, rolling his eyes. ‘And like all chefs, she’s temperamental, volatile and very adept with knives ...’

  Tristan held up his hands. ‘All right, all right—’

  ‘I can imagine. We are indebted to you both,’ said Hubert and stood up, indicating the meeting was over. ‘Major Andersen will be buried with full military honours. I hope you will be able to attend the funeral.’

  ‘I will certainly do my best,’ said Jack.

  Tristan nodded. ‘So will I.’

  ‘Excellent. There was one more thing,’ said Hubert, looking at Tristan. ‘The last time we met, Mr Te Papatahi, you said something as you left the room.’

  ‘Yes, I told you that I could see an aircraft carrier, a deserted beach and a man in a wheelchair. I also said that I could see a blinding flash and balls of fire, and could hear the deafening roar of jet engines.’

  ‘Exactly. Astonishing. We now know that everything you saw then has come to pass. I was wondering …’

  ‘Yes?’ said Tristan, realising at once where this was heading.

  ‘Is there perhaps something else you can see right now?’

  Tristan closed his eyes and took his time before replying. ‘I can see a blackboard full of numbers and man in a wheelchair in a hall full of people, applauding.’

  ‘Let’s hope you are right again, Mr Te Papatahi. Being able to hear the whisper of angels must be quite something. Have a good flight.’

  56

  Goddard Space Flight Center, Greenbelt, Maryland: 21 July

  Jack followed the security guard up the stairs to the first floor where the Genius Club was due to meet. Gizmo seemed to know the way and was straining on his lead and pulling Jack along the corridor. The security guard’s wife who had looked after Gizmo during Stolzfus’s absence told Jack that Gizmo had fretted terribly during the past few weeks. He wasn’t eating properly and apparently didn’t enj
oy his walks, which was very unusual.

  True to her word, Hubert had arranged for Jack to get access to the Goddard Space Flight Center, which had been Stolzfus’s second home, to collect Gizmo and meet the Genius Club. As it wasn’t the second Thursday of the month, but a Saturday, a special meeting had been convened in a hurry. Because Jack’s notes didn’t contain any material touching on national security, the papers had been returned to him and he was about to hand them over to the club as Stolzfus had requested.

  The security guard stopped in front of a glass door at the end of the corridor. ‘In here,’ he said. As soon as he opened the door, Gizmo dashed inside, tail wagging, and ran excitedly up to Barbara sitting at the front, to receive his customary pat, before turning to Jake who sat next to her, for a tickle behind the ear.

  An intimidating-looking lot, thought Jack as he glanced at the five members of the Genius Club looking at him expectantly. Collecting his thoughts, he was trying to find the best way to defuse the tension in the room, when his eyes came to rest on Gizmo still wagging his tail furiously. Of course, thought Jack, smiling. The cute dog always works.

  ‘You know what they say,’ began Jack, walking up to the blackboard. ‘If you are not sure what to say, bring a cute dog along to say it for you. I’ve been told by Professor Stolzfus that Gizmo here knows more about astrophysics than I ever will,’ continued Jack, feeling more relaxed.

  There was subdued laughter and all eyes were on Jack. The club had been briefed by Goldberger and the CIA about the purpose of Jack’s visit and the excitement in the room was palpable. They had all googled Jack and knew a lot about him.

  ‘I don’t know how much you’ve been told about me or why I wanted to meet you, so allow me to start at the beginning.’ Jack pulled up a chair and sat down facing the five members of the Genius Club Stolzfus had told him so much about.

  Barbara sensed Jack’s unease and decided to step in. ‘You can take it, Mr Rogan, that all of us here have read the articles about Professor Stolzfus in the New York Times and, as you can imagine, we have followed the story with great interest.’

  Jack looked at her gratefully; the ice was broken.

  ‘In that case, I will cut to the chase and talk about things you may not know. I spent five days with Professor Stolzfus at sea after he came out of his coma. We were prisoners on a small ship owned by a drug cartel bound for Colombia and were living in cramped quarters. During that time I got to know the professor very well. We were playing chess – he hardly looked at the board and I was losing most of the time anyway – and all he talked about was, you guessed it, physics and the universe.’

  More subdued laughter spurred him on. Jack the storyteller was in his element and he could sense that he had his audience in the palm of his hand. Smiling, he continued.

  ‘He also spoke a lot about you, and the Hawking Challenge.’ Jack paused to let that sink in. ‘He told me that you were all playing in some kind of celestial orchestra where he was the conductor, making sure that you were all playing in harmony to create an inspired symphony that was supposed to unravel the mysteries of the universe by coming up with a theory of everything.’

  Jack could see by the shocked expressions on the faces in front of him that he had chosen the right approach. ‘He also told me that during that extraordinary operation, which you obviously know about, he could hear music that inspired him and showed him the way—’

  ‘What do you mean, “showed him the way”?’ interrupted a young man at the back wearing a pair of spectacles so thick they gave him an almost comical look, like a pet fish staring through a water bowl.

  ‘Professor Stolzfus believed he had found what had eluded him for years. He believed that he had finally found that inspired symphony.’

  Unable to control his excitement, Jake leant forward. ‘Did he tell you what that was?’ he asked.

  ‘He did more than that,’ replied Jack. ‘During the five days we spent together, Professor Stolzfus spoke of nothing else. In fact, he was bursting with ideas and attempted desperately to get them all out and recorded.’

  ‘Recorded?’ interjected Barbara, sitting on the edge of her seat and hanging on Jack’s every word.

  ‘Yes. He had all the calculations and equations in his head. All part of that inspired symphony he kept talking about.’ Jack paused, reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a wad of papers, and placed them on the desk in front of him. The five members of the Genius Club stared at the papers, the excitement in the room almost at bursting point.

  ‘Following Professor Stolzfus’s instructions,’ continued Jack, ‘I wrote everything down: the calculations, the equations, the diagrams. Everything. I became his scribe so to speak. I also made a promise. I promised to deliver it all to you because you, unlike me, would know what it all meant. A present from the conductor, Professor Stolzfus called it, to his beloved orchestra.’ Jack pointed to the papers on the desk. ‘This is it here.’

  Everyone was silent for a long, tense moment, then they all rose to their feet and walked up the desk to have a look. ‘May we?’ asked Barbara.

  ‘Of course, it’s all yours.’

  For the next hour there was excited, sometimes heated discussion in the room as the Genius Club divided up the task of deciphering Stolzfus’s complex ideas. Soon, the blackboard was covered in calculations, diagrams, arrows and equations.

  ‘Good Lord! Did you see this, guys?’ asked the young man with the thick spectacles. He was furiously scribbling something on the blackboard, his nose covered in chalk. ‘Bloody brilliant!’

  Standing at the back of the room, Jack watched as a gifted man’s genius came to life in front of him. ‘Incredible,’ he whispered, and patted Gizmo who sat patiently at his feet. ‘We better go, mate. I think this is beyond us; even you.’

  Barbara looked at Jack. ‘This will take some time,’ she said, beaming. ‘It’s absolutely amazing!’

  ‘I can see.’

  ‘Thank you! Thank you so much. We can’t tell you what this means to us. Not just us, but to science and the world. This could make history!’

  ‘I’m glad. I better leave you to it then,’ said Jack. ‘It’s time for me to attend to my second promise.’

  Everybody turned around and looked at Jack. ‘I’m sorry,’ said Jake. ‘We are ignoring you.’

  ‘Understandable.’

  ‘What second promise?’ asked Barbara.

  Jack pointed to Gizmo. ‘I promised to look after this little chap here. He’s going to live with Professor Stolzfus’s sister in New York until the professor is well enough to come back.’

  ‘Do you think he will?’ asked Jake, sounding sad.

  ‘I hope so. And a close friend of mine who can hear the whisper of angels and glimpse eternity certainly seems to think so,’ added Jack, smiling.

  Hubert had not only arranged the flight and assembled the Genius Club at the Goddard Space Flight Center, she had also arranged transport for Jack and Gizmo to New York, some three-and-a-half hours’ drive away. Jack suspected this was more than just a courtesy. He was certain that he was under observation and it made sense to Jack that the CIA would be keeping a close eye on him, especially since that dramatic statement by the White House two days earlier, which had given the ‘official’ version of what happened in Colombia and the Stolzfus matter to a news-hungry press.

  Jack was sitting in the back of the hire car with Gizmo when his satellite phone rang. It was the first call he had received since Hubert had returned the phone to him and the battery was now fully charged.

  ‘Jack Rogan,’ said Jack.

  ‘Thank God!’ said a voice at the other end. ‘I’ve been trying to call you for days.’

  The reception was bad and Jack could hardly hear what was being said. ‘Who is this?’ he asked, shaking the phone.

  ‘It’s me. Agabe!’

  57

  Central Park, New York: 21 July

  Jack entered Central Park near 62nd Street and walked with Gizmo towards the
Gapstow Bridge. As he came closer to the familiar bridge with its splendid view of the New York skyline he had photographed so often, he remembered that fateful incident in 2002 when Soul, the famous jazz singer, had what seemed like a heart attack and collapsed almost in front of him, and how his quick thinking had saved her life.

  Hard to believe that was sixteen years ago, thought Jack, as he passed the very spot Soul had been lying on the footpath with a distraught Izabel by her side. Jack touched the little cross around his neck and smiled. It had protected Soul that time; pity it couldn’t have done the same later. Having struggled with drug addiction for years, Soul had sadly passed away from an overdose earlier that year. Strange how things work out, thought Jack and stopped on the top of the little bridge. That was the reason a lonely, grieving Izabel had hooked up with Teodora.

  Jack looked at his watch. It was almost three in the afternoon, the time he had arranged to meet Rebecca Armstrong by the bridge. There were two reasons for this: first, he thought that handing Gizmo over to Rebecca in the park would be less stressful for the little dog but more importantly, Jack was certain he was being watched and felt that meeting Rebecca in a public place like Central Park to discuss what he had to tell her was safer by far.

  Rocked by the telephone call from Agabe earlier that day, which had taken him by complete surprise, Jack felt unsettled and had become very cautious. He still found it difficult to come to terms with what Agabe had told him and needed some time to think about what to do next. A walk through the park seemed a good way to start.

  Looking up, Jack could see Rebecca waving in the distance and he waved back.

  ‘That’s a new side of you I haven’t seen before,’ said Rebecca, giving Jack a big hug as she reached him. Then she bent down and gave Gizmo a pat. ‘An afternoon stroll through Central Park with a new dog a couple of days after being rescued by the US Navy from the clutches of a notorious drug baron in Colombia. The papers are full of it. You are an amazing guy, Jack, but why are we meeting here? Our office is just over there.’