‘Are you serious? What is this?’ she said after a while, a puzzled look on her face.
‘The Aztec crystal skull at the heart of the scandal that rocked the Ritz in 1941.’
‘Pun intended?’ teased the countess.
‘And by the way, Mademoiselle Darrieux looked just like you did a moment ago when I showed her the photo – incredulous. Well, perhaps she was a little more surprised than you,’ said Jack, laughing. ‘Shocked, actually.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said the countess. ‘How does all this fit together?’
‘Another cup of tea, and I’ll tell you.’
Grateful to have an attentive confidante he could trust and who was prepared to listen, Jack told the countess everything he knew about the skull’s extraordinary reappearance and discovery. He told her how Isis had followed the clues buried in her mother’s last words and found the skull hidden in the Egyptian room at Clarendon Hall.
‘But what about the scandal? Where’s the connection?’ asked the countess. ‘Are you suggesting that somehow this is the legendary Aztec skull?’
‘Not sure, but listen to this: Fast forward to January 1941,’ said Jack. ‘Dolores Gonzales, Isis’ grandmother, stays with her husband, José, and her young daughter, Mercedes, at the Ritz in Paris. José, a Mexican art dealer, has a spectacular Aztec crystal skull in his collection, which he shows off to potential clients to attract business. Reichsmarschall Göring, who is living at the Ritz, hears about the skull and falls under its spell. He must have it at any cost. José doesn’t want to part with it, but ultimately cannot refuse. Göring acquires the skull under the pretence that it is a present for Hitler who, as we know, was deeply interested in the occult.’
‘And Mademoiselle Darrieux told you all this?’ interjected the countess.
‘Yes. As you know, she’s writing a book about the Ritz during the war years and has done a huge amount of research on the subject. And besides, Madame Petrova was a close friend of Dolores Gonzales’ at the time and played an important part in the scandal that followed. I have no doubt that’s the reason Mademoiselle Darrieux is so interested in her.’
‘How extraordinary. But what about the scandal?’
‘Göring was obsessed with the skull and took it with him everywhere he went. It even sat on his table at the Ritz during dinner, grinning at his guests. Not only was the Reichsmarschall totally eccentric, he was a morphine addict, given to fits of rage and outlandish behaviour. A dangerous, unpredictable man with unlimited power.’
Jack paused and looked at the countess. ‘And then it happened …’ he said.
‘What happened?’
‘A couple of weeks after Göring acquired the skull from José – appropriated would be more accurate – it disappeared. Vanished without a trace. Göring used to keep it next to his bed in the Imperial Suite and when he woke up one morning, it just wasn’t there. That’s when all hell broke loose—’
‘You don’t say. This sounds more like a Shakespearian play …’ interjected the countess.
‘Wait. The best is yet to come,’ said Jack, enjoying himself. ‘Apparently, Göring appeared at the top of the stairs dressed in his silk pyjamas and a spectacular Kimono. Still in a morphine-induced fog from the night before, he began to scream and, brandishing a bejewelled baton, made all kinds of outrageous accusations.
‘The Abwehr, the secret police, were called in at once to investigate the theft. Everyone was interrogated, the entire hotel was searched and, not surprisingly, suspicion fell on José and he became the prime suspect. Not the most careful or tactful man, he deeply resented having been parted from his prized possession by the high-handed Reichsmarschall, and openly complained about it to anyone prepared to listen.
‘However, nothing was found. Infuriated, Göring and his henchmen continued to terrorise everyone at the Ritz. José was arrested and, it was rumoured, tortured, but to no avail. The skull had vanished.’
‘What happened to José?’ asked the countess.
‘Don’t know. That’s where the trail suddenly goes cold, I’m afraid, for now …’
‘And you are determined to do something about that; right?’
‘Absolutely!’
‘And what might that be?’
‘Mademoiselle Darrieux and I have made a pact.’
‘A what?’
‘We have agreed to share information and find out what happened to the notorious skull after it disappeared from the Reichsmarschall’s boudoir. Where did it go? Something so precious doesn’t just disappear without a trace. The question is this: where was it during the past seventy years, and how on earth did it end up hidden in a mummy-case in the Egyptian room at Clarendon Hall?’
‘Assuming of course it’s the same skull,’ interjected the countess.
‘Sure, but it’s so unique. And look at the circumstances and the people involved … I have agreed to help her get access to the skull and perhaps even arrange an interview with Dolores Gonzales. That’s my contribution. This could easily turn her book into a bestseller. She was on fire, I tell you.’
‘Not just cocktail speak and unrequited passion?’ teased the countess.
‘Oh no. She knew exactly what she was saying.’
‘So what’s your next step?’
‘Talking to Madame Petrova.’
‘I thought you might say that. When would you like to see her?’
‘In the morning? Don’t look at me like that,’ said Jack. ‘That’s what happens when you let an incorrigible rascal stay in your house.’
‘I’m just beginning to find out what that entails,’ said the countess, laughing. ‘I only hope I don’t regret it.’
‘Never!’
36
Alexandra closed Professor K’s notebook, took a deep breath and sat back, her head spinning. Then she reached for the letter addressed to her and read it again for the third time. Extraordinary, she thought. Just when we think we know someone, we really don’t know them at all.
The material in the notebooks left to Alexandra in Professor K’s Will explained the reasoning underpinning his groundbreaking research in painstaking detail that only she could understand. The professor’s train of thought was unique and his methods unorthodox. He saw things differently, and it took a like-minded scientist to appreciate his ways. Alexandra was that scientist. She understood that the true scientist must not be dazzled by nature’s breathtaking beauty, nor be cowed by its chilling terror. To know how, and why was everything.
Step-by-step, the copious notes, laborious calculations and often quite convoluted references and connections somehow pulled everything together with a clarity that was as compelling as it was obvious – if you knew how to read them and what to look for. Moreover, they appeared to contain much of the missing data supporting the professor’s extraordinary findings, and neatly complemented the notes left for her at the institute.
To make sense, everything had to be considered together. Alexandra was sure this had been quite deliberate. Professor K, a cautious man, was fully aware of security and protecting his work. Complexity made simple, thought Alexandra, and safe. Genius. If it works. However, a lot still remained to be done. Then came the bombshell …
The letter went on the explain that the entire research and all of the sensational findings were the culmination of an inspired idea first conceived by Professor K’s father – an eminent Polish doctor – in a German concentration camp during the war. Apparently, it had all begun with one curious case involving twins: the Abramowitz girls. And if that wasn’t enough, there was more, a lot more. The other revelations, of a most personal kind, contained in the letter rocked Alexandra to the core …
Extraordinary, she thought, suddenly feeling confused and exhausted. Since her meeting with Professor K’s executor, Mr Papadoulis earlier that day, much had changed. She folded the letter carefully along its creases and slipped it back into the envelope. Who could possibly have imagined all this? More questions after death than answers d
uring life. Yet, here I am … alone.
Alexandra looked at her watch. Jesus, she thought, Jana! She crammed everything into her handbag, quickly locked the safe in her lab and headed for the door.
She’s late, thought Jana. The simple stir-fry she was cooking for dinner was ready to go and the table was set. Jana poured herself another glass of wine and looked pensively out of the large panoramic kitchen window framing the Sydney Opera House and busy harbour below. It felt a little strange cooking for someone she hadn’t met, but it felt good being back in Sydney on familiar turf.
Jana had missed Australia dreadfully and was looking forward to making contact with some of her old colleagues in the police force. However, what she had missed most of all was her career, which had come to such an abrupt and inglorious end during the Newman trial. Jack understood this, and his request for her help had come at a good time – for all concerned.
Jana heard the key turn in the front door lock and looked up. She turned down the music with the remote and walked to the lobby.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Alexandra, looking a little flustered. ‘I lost track of time. It’s been a turbulent day.’
They shook hands.
‘Glass of wine?’ said Jana, pointing to the kitchen.
‘Absolutely. I can’t tell you how good it feels to have you here. I’ve heard so much about you. From Jack of course …’
‘Real life is a little different, I’m afraid,’ said Jana. ‘And most of what I know about you, I’ve learnt from Jack and your aunt. A great fan, by the way. She sends her regards, and so does Jack. You seem to have had an interesting time since you arrived here …’
‘That’s an understatement,’ said Alexandra, feeling suddenly quite cold. ‘I could certainly do with that wine.’
‘I’m cooking Jack’s favourite stir-fry. He taught me,’ said Jana, laughing. ‘He’s a much better cook than I’ll ever be. An absent friend joins us for dinner through his culinary prowess; that’s Jack for you,’ joked Jana. ‘Let’s eat first, and talk later.’
‘You’re on,’ said Alexandra and followed Jana into the kitchen. ‘I’m starving.’
The tasty meal washed down with a copious quantity of Jack’s wine and Jana’s easygoing manner made it possible for Alexandra to open up.
Barefoot and relaxed, they sat on the lounge, listening to jazz like old friends. Experienced in asking difficult questions, Jana took Alexandra through her abduction ordeal and the time she had spent on the Calypso as Macbeth’s ‘guest’.
‘And you think Cavendish’s death at the nightclub is somehow related?’ asked Jana.
‘I’m sure of it. Macbeth more than hinted that this was so. In fact, he used it as a clear warning. He was telling me he could reach me anytime, anywhere, and I believe him. He certainly has the power, the connections and the means. And besides, he had the professor’s notebook right there in front of him. Tangible proof. He’s the most chilling man I’ve ever met.’
‘And the police know nothing of this?’
Alexandra shook her head. ‘I doubt it. The papers said the fire was a terrible accident caused by an electrical fault in an overcrowded establishment, and that several patrons died during the panic that followed. Cavendish was one of them; that’s all. And it all happened in a notorious gay club. There’s a lot of homophobic feeling out there, if you know what I mean …’
Jana nodded. ‘And your involvement in all this? Why do you say you’ve been set up?’
‘That’s simple. It all has to do with Professor K’s work. That’s the reason I came to Australia in the first place, and that’s the reason for my abduction and Macbeth’s interest in me. No doubt about it. And let’s not forget, Macbeth owns one of the largest pharmaceutical corporations in the world. We are talking mega dollars here. Influence and power on an almost unimaginable scale. With so much at stake, industrial espionage is rife.’
‘Abduction and murder too?’ interjected Jana.
‘It would seem so,’ said Alexandra. ‘Greed and lust for power recognise no boundaries, moral or otherwise.’
‘Is Professor K’s work really that important?’
‘It is, in more ways than I can explain right now.’
‘Close to a breakthrough?’
‘It would seem so.’
‘How close?’
‘Very.’
‘Tell me about the money.’
‘Well, it happened right here in this very room.’
‘Oh?’
‘Macbeth’s blond thug with ice-blue eyes brought me back here and reminded me of where I stood, and what I had to do. He also reminded me of the consequences should I fail to cooperate … I was sitting where you are sitting right now, and he stood behind me. He put his hands on the back of my neck and began to squeeze, ever so gently. Then he told me that there was a little surprise waiting for me in my bank account. When I checked later, I saw that three hundred thousand dollars had been transferred into my account. You can see what they are doing, surely? It’s very clever.’
‘Tell me.’
‘I arrive at the prestigious Gordon Institute as the anointed successor of Professor K, who has just passed away. He’s on the brink of a spectacular breakthrough in cancer treatment that could make billions for a pharmaceutical company and revolutionise the way we deal with that dreadful disease. I take his place and continue his work. A few days later, I join the head of Blackburn Pharmaceuticals on his legendary ship and spend the weekend there as his guest. I’m seen leaving my apartment with a man who behaves like my lover and return two days later with him. It turns out that the man works for the company. The next day, I go to work as usual and continue my research at the Gordon.
‘However, on the same day, three hundred thousand dollars is transferred into my bank account from an anonymous source, impossible to trace. The inference? Obvious, wouldn’t you say? In return, I will pass information about my work to a source linked to Blackburn Pharmaceuticals. In doing so, I’m cheating on my employer by selling vital information potentially worth billions to a pharmaceutical giant. In short, I’m committing a serious crime. And if any of this gets out, I’m ruined. I will never work as a scientist again and will most likely end up in jail. How am I doing so far?’
Jana reached for the bottle on the table in front of her and refilled their glasses. ‘Go on,’ she said.
‘And what do you have to say for yourself, Dr Alexander? I hear the prosecutor ask me in the dock. I then give my version of what happened. You’ve just heard it.’ Alexandra reached for her glass, took a sip of wine and looked across to the Harbour Bridge. ‘Now tell me honestly, which version would you believe?’
‘We have a problem,’ conceded Jana. ‘But every problem has a solution. We just have to know where to look for it. But tonight is neither the time nor the place to do that. If I don’t get some sleep soon, jetlag will turn me into a pumpkin, and pumpkins are notoriously unreliable. Let’s see what the new day brings. And besides, I already have an idea …’
‘Thanks, Jana,’ said Alexandra, lifting her glass in salute. ‘I cannot tell you what a difference just talking to you has made already. And I agree with you, everything looks different in the morning. And thanks for dinner; my turn tomorrow.’
‘Not Heston Blumenthal-style, I hope,’ joked Jana.
‘Certainly not! When I cook, I leave science at the kitchen door.’
‘Thank God for that.’
‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ said Jana. ‘Jack sent you this.’ Jana reached for a book on the coffee table.
‘What is it?’
‘Dental Gold and Other Horrors, the book that made Jack famous. Apparently, you haven’t read it yet.’
‘No, I haven’t but I’ve heard a lot about it; thanks. A little bedtime reading, you think?’
‘Perhaps …’
37
Smartly dressed and wearing make-up and her favourite pearls, Madame Petrova was waiting for them in her room at the nursing home. For a woman well i
nto her nineties, she looked remarkable. However, the nurse had suggested to the countess that a morning visit would be best, as Madame Petrova’s concentration and attention span were better at that time.
The countess kissed her dear friend on the cheek.
‘So, you’ve come to visit the old fossil again,’ said Madame Petrova, laughing. ‘It’s hard to believe I once turned the heads of royalty just by walking into a room.’
‘I can believe that,’ said Jack, gallantly kissing Madame Petrova’s hand.
‘You are a wonderful liar, Mr Rogan, but please don’t stop. Make-believe is better than despair.’
After the maid had served the obligatory coffee and petits fours, Jack decided to come straight to the point – dramatically. He called up the picture of the crystal skull on his iPhone and handed it to Madame Petrova. ‘Do you recognise this?’ he asked, watching her carefully.
Madame Petrova reached for the large magnifying glass with an ivory handle she used when reading, and had a look. Surprise; incredulity; confusion. The expression on the old lady’s face told Jack all he had to know.
‘Oh my God! How did you …? Where did this …? The scandal of the crystal skull,’ whispered Madame Petrova. ‘Now, that was something …’ Transported by memories of a turbulent, distant past, it was obvious Madame Petrova was unsettled and beginning to drift.
‘Mademoiselle Darrieux suggested I talk to you about it,’ said Jack, anxious not to lose her train of thought. ‘Because you—’
‘You spoke to her?’ interrupted Madame Petrova.
‘Just as you asked me to,’ said Jack.
‘What would you like to know?’
Jack pulled his little notebook and a pen out of his pocket and sat back. ‘Anything you can remember about the scandal would be most helpful,’ he said, and looked expectantly at the elegant lady sitting opposite.
Enjoying the attention, Madame Petrova gave Jack a coquettish look and smiled. ‘It was a long time ago,’ she said, ‘but it seems like only yesterday. We were all so young …’
The Hidden Genes of Professor K: A Medical Mystery Thriller (Jack Rogan Mysteries Book 3) Page 19
