Chapter 30
“Could you please put me through to the room of Miss Oona de La Fayette?” Pieter asked at the reception.
“No problem, sir. Let me look it up for you.”
She went with her finger over the computer display, took the phone and tapped discretely a number so that Pieter could not catch Oona's room number.
She smiled charmingly but put the horn back: “I am sorry, but Miss de La Fayette is not in her room.”
“Can I leave a message?”
“No problem, sir. Please take the telephone at the right of the lobby and I will connect you.”
Pieter picked up one of the ugly vintage phones lined up on a table in the lobby. The girl at the reception switched him through to the answering machine of Oona.
“Oona, this is Pieter. Can you please try to reach me as soon as possible? You probably have already heard what happened to Jonathan. It is urgent. I am in room five hundred twelve.”
He put the horn back on the hook and walked via the back of the hotel to the vast garden. The sun had since long started her descent and had lost her strength. Some of the remaining guests at the poolside collected their belongings and tried to convince their children to leave the swimming pool.
Pieter checked a quiet place in a corner of the patio. A diligent waiter arrived instantaneously with a menu card. Pieter ordered immediately their largest beer from the tap.
“Time to taste an urus-steak,” he thought.
The man at the farm had not at all exaggerated. The steak was a sublime mix of the best that Kobe, Argentinean and Aberdeen could offer. The white veined meat had a full wild taste. In silence Pieter had to compliment the chef for the perfect cuisson of the grilled meat. Despite the circumstances of the day, he tired to enjoy his dinner.
Just to be sure he double-checked with the waiter that he did not have to settle his bill. Patiently the man shook his head.
Taking two steps at a time he ran to the fifth floor, hoping that in the meantime Oona had returned and picked up his message. The red light of his phone did not blink. No messages.
Pieter sat on the sharply made bed and untied the shoelaces of his heavy hiking boots. The mud was hard and had dried on his shoes and trousers. He let himself fall and stretched out on the bed trying to empty his mind.
The sharp ringing of the phone woke him up. Confused that he had actually fallen asleep he scrambled for the phone and with a coarse throat he answered. A merry voice on the other side twittered: “Hi Pieter, this is Oona. I just returned to the hotel and got your message. What's up? Are you already missing me?”
Severely he answered: “Oona, I think it is best that you come to my room. I gave it to you in the message.”
“Yep, five-twelve. I am on my way to the VIP floor.”
Her broad smile disappeared as she stepped in Pieter's room and she noticed his serious face. “What has happened? What is wrong with Jonathan?”
Pieter decided to break the news as straight as possible and took her in his arms: “Jonathan is dead. There was an accident with a stampede of frightened cattle a couple of kilometres outside the project.”
With a pale face Oona sank into one of the seats of the living room. “An accident? I cannot believe it. When did it happen?”
“Close to noontime today. We were making a tour around the project when it happened. I saw him when he died of his injuries.”
“No, that is impossible. But he was just here. We had breakfast together this morning, we agreed to meet each other to catch up before we both went off to our appointments.”
She wiped away the tears appearing in her eyes, leaving a mascara smear on her cheek.
Pieter probed: “did he tell you where he had to go to?”
“Yes, he first had a meeting with Ian. Some sorts of briefing about what his role was going to be. He was quite proud that Ian had selected him to run the security operations. That meeting must have taken place just after your discussion with Ian. We saw you rushing out of the breakfast room with a tray. We did wave at you, but you have not seen us. You were quite eager to run upstairs again.”
Pieter ignored the last comment. “But he did not tell you where he was going to today? Or who he was scheduled to see?”
“No, I believe he did not know himself. We have talked more about my assignment.”
“Were you not expected in the hospital at the airport?”
“Yes, how do you know that? I had a meeting with a Dr. Kitwaela. I have tried to reach him, but without success. Then someone called me from the laboratory whether I was interested to meet the team of the tropical medicine. They wanted my advice on some new Malaria pills. So that is what I did and I just returned. Only to hear this kind of news. I'm sorry but it is difficult to accept.”
“Kitwaela claims that you never showed up.”
“No I didn't, but I left at least three messages and I talked to his assistant or nurse who was going to pass on the message. I forgot his name.”
“Gordon?” Pieter betted.
“Yes that is it, Gordon. He was going to pass it on to Dr. Kitwaela.”
Pieter was thinking while Oona tried to suppress the tears. She sobbed silently. “He was so relieved to be here. For him it was a new start. And now this stupid accident.”
“I don't think it was an accident, Oona.”
“Why not?”
“Can you mount a silencer on a revolver?”
“Sure you can but it will be of no use.”
“Why is that?”
“Theoretically you can screw or click a silencer on the barrel because revolvers are old designs and thus normally sub-sonic. In other words, the bullet does not leave the mouth faster than the speed of sound so it does not break through the sound barrier. But with a revolver the real issue lies with the bullet cylinder which is located a millimetre away from the barrel. So the sound does not come from the mouth but from the cylinder. I am sure someone came up with the idea of a cover around the cylinder, but I am also pretty certain that was not too handy. And they would have to be custom made.”
“This shell was found close to the place where Jonathan was grabbed by the herd.” Pieter showed her the picture he had taken.
“Short and thick. Antique ammunition for an antique weapon. Probably a Colt or a Webley from the beginning or middle of last century. Most certainly not suitable for a silencer.”
“And those museum pieces still function?”
“If they are well maintained, I see no reason why not. The challenge is more to find the right bullets. The ammunition has to be fresh. The weapon will not fire reliably if the bullets are old. So if you want such an old gun to be operational, the ammunition is most likely the weak point. I would not like to see a lion coming my way when my gun is loaded with antique ammunition of over a hundred years old. Of course there are here and there small companies that produce this for fanatics or collectors and sell it on the internet.”
“And the sound of the shot?”
“You mean how loud? Like a thunder. More noise than efficiency. It is almost impossible to aim those things and the recoil is so hard that it can dislocate your arm from your shoulder.”
“Don't those bullets leave traces in the body?”
“I am not a coroner or a medical examiner, but I would say yes. The temperature of a classic lead bullet is around two hundred and fifty degrees Celsius. A bullet burns flesh and organs. So when conducting a thorough investigation there should certainly be traces to be found. It also depends on the kind of ammunition. I can imagine that if someone makes his own bullets he also wants to experiment with the tip. For instance a full metal jacket. That will not splinter in a body. But that would be a weird combination, a Webley loaded with full metal jackets.”
“But somewhere there should be a trace, also in a ...” he hesitated and continued in a lower voice: “in a trampled body?”
“A lead bullet bursts open in an arc of a hundred and eighty degrees in the body. That results in an
exit wound that you cannot miss. And with ninety nine percent certainty somewhere in the body there will be lead fragments. A modern full metal jacket will not be so easy to trace back, but the chances that you find a bone or burn marks is quite real. Also on clothes there will be marks of entrance and exit.”
“So, a bit of a coroner would find this.”
“Yes, no doubt about that.”
“And the bang is loud?”
“To be heard for kilometres in the area.”
“Kitwaela conducted a medical investigation and claims that he has not found any traces.”
“Than it was an accident after all.”
“I'd like to have a second opinion.”
He looked at Oona who saw the unasked question in his eyes. “No, Pieter, you cannot expect that from me. Jonathan was one of my best friends. We even had made reservations for tonight in the restaurant.” Her eyes filled again.
“Just because he was your friend, our friend, he has the right for a thorough examination. I don't know what is going on, but the past days have taught me one thing. There are very few people that you can trust.
She kept hesitating but finally nodded slowly. “Okay, I will do it. But I will need your help to receive the permissions. And access to the full report of Doctor Kitwaele.”
“You got it. I'll ask Ian's permission. His reaction will already reveal a lot.”
“What do you mean? Do you believe he is somehow involved in this?”
“Correction. Sometimes I wonder if there is something he is not involved in.”
Pieter opened the door after he heard a soft knock. Jane hugged him till she noticed Oona. She smiled sadly.
“Hi Jane, a pity that we meet again in these circumstances.”
“I came to fetch you for dinner, Pieter. I did not know whether you already had something to eat or not.”
“I had, but maybe you can take Oona? I think you both can use the distraction and the time to catch up. I need to get in touch with Ian.”
Jane agreed, “But can you please, please put something clean on? You smell even worse than a couple of hours ago.”
Hi grinned sheepishly: “a good billy goat smells a true saying in Belgium.” Nevertheless he disappeared in the bathroom to shower and dress.
Later Pieter walked through the corridor and stopped at the door of Ian's suite. To his surprise Ian opened the door himself.
“You are even here?” Pieter sounded amazed.
“Actually I had expected you earlier. Please come in and have a seat at the table.”
“Has our good inspector Mister Abdi discovered anything yet?” Pieter smirked.
“Do not underestimate Mr. Abdi, Pieter. He is one of the most intelligent men I know. A proud and honourable gentleman. Don't be fooled, twenty years ago he stood at the top of the African Interpol. At that time I have worked a lot with him and a few years ago destiny brought us back together. He is one of the reasons why Abacus has been built exactly here. His village is situated around thirty kilometres from here. He knows all the clan heads, the family eldest, the warlords, the local and regional politicians and is well connected to a whole series of African leaders. He is not to be mocked. And nobody does it.”
“Destiny and faith are for you a bit too unpredictable, Ian. I don't buy that.”
“Fine with me,” Ian smiled. He put a glass in front of Pieter and filled it with wine and put the bottle back in the cooler. “What is it that you wanted to know?”
“Anything new coming out of the investigation around Jonathan's death?”
“Kik is the prime suspect because of the shell. Further investigation will determine whether he will be put in custody or not. In any case he left the hotel in a very bad temper. But on the other hand, I have never known him differently. Then Francesca and Jane have done their version of the story. That matched exactly with what you had already told us. Also a number of people who happened to work outside the farm at the moment of Jonathan's death have been interrogated.”
“Did any of them testify that they heard a shot?” interrupted Pieter.
“They were all unanimous. Nobody heard anything. But a silencer could have been used. A shot would certainly have alarmed the people outside. The situation in this part of Somalia is calm and stable. Trust me; everyone wants to keep it that way. A shot or a bang would have caught their attention. And that confirms the report of the doctor that no traces of shot wounds have been found.”
“I understood from Oona that this morning you had a meeting with Jonathan, right after our meeting?”
“Thanks that you have already talked to Oona. She is still on my agenda to speak to her later tonight personally. But to come back to my morning meeting with Jonathan. As you probably know by now he had arrived here to take the position of head of security. As Abacus is growing we need a more professional and extended security, certainly with all what is going on in the world these days. His predecessor could not make that step. I needed someone with a military background, someone used to command a group and could design and implement a security strategy that balanced the defensive with the offensive. That is our requirement in the current circumstances. Iveta had arranged for him a series of meetings with his future departments. Those were ready to brief him on the current situation, the running projects, the issues faced and so on. The idea was that he would be able to set priorities for the team as soon as possible.”
“Can I obtain a list of all those names?”
“Abdi has already received that list and will start questioning these people as of tomorrow morning. He has started to reconstruct the last couple of hours of Jonathan's life. That is police work, Pieter. Leave it up to him.”
“Didn't you want me to deal with the ins and outs of Abacus? This appears to be an important development in the history of the project, right?”
Ian sighed deeply and shook his head: “I assume so. You are a stubborn man Pieter. But I like that.”
“Million-Euro question: who profits from Jonathan's death?”
“Well, when his predecessor left there were a couple of candidates eager to take the job. I can give you the names.”
“Let me guess... Kik?”
“Indeed, of all the candidates he was the most vocal. Also the most outspoken when I told him I preferred Jonathan to take the responsibility. He had a hard time to accept that an outsider, who barely knew where Kenya was situated, was chosen.”
“So you don't believe in an accident anymore?”
“I have not for one moment believed that. But evidence needs to come.”
“So, I assume that you will not have an issue to give Oona permission to conduct a second autopsy on Jonathan?” Pieter quickly asked.
“Do you think she is sufficiently emotionally detached to do that?” Ian countered worriedly.
“She is a highly qualified doctor. Of course she is. I would feel a lot better if there is a second opinion.”
“So would I.. But please let her do this with the proper diplomacy. Kitwaela is a Masai. To do this too bluntly could be insulting. And he is also a highly qualified doctor.”
“If he is that honourable, than why did he lie about Oona?”
“I am not quite following.”
“He claimed that Oona had not showed up. But Oona said that she had tried to reach him and that she had left several messages. She also talked to his assistant, the nurse, Gordon.”
“No idea. Find it out. And ... please share all of this with Abdi. Don't start some parallel investigation. We don't have the time for that.”
Iveta entered the room; Pieter had not heard the door opening but Ian turned to her: “Iveta, can you please give Pieter the same name lists that you provided to Mister Abdi earlier today?”
“Oh yes, and can someone teach me how to reserve a car? I think I want to go back to the farm to have a closer look at those robots and their security.”
“I will appoint you a car, Pieter.”
Iveta typed in the meantime o
n the screen. “Voila, now you have a private car, next to Ian, Vladimir and Juergen. Quite an honour.” She winked.
Ian hurried to specify: “but that is temporary. Just like it is for us.”
“One last question, Ian. Now that Jonathan's career has abruptly come to an untimely end, who is your preferred candidate to take the job?”
“Very good question, Pieter. You are the second one posing it. I had two guys on Diego. I asked Philippe Bramaud to join us. He lands tomorrow morning.”
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The Abacus Equation Page 36
