‘And this rock star approached you to investigate this?’ interrupted Macbeth. ‘Why? Why not leave it to the authorities?’
‘That puzzled me too; I asked myself the same question. The answer, as it turned out, was as surprising as it was complicated. The first explanation was simple enough: Isis didn’t trust the authorities to do a proper job – too many vested interests of a political kind were at stake here – she wanted an independent outsider to have a good look at what happened. Yet there was more; much more—’
‘Why you? A journalist and an author? An amateur?’ interrupted Macbeth again.
As Jack listened to the fascinatingly dangerous man in the wheelchair, something he had briefly thought of before, but dismissed as too fanciful, again crossed his mind. Stronger this time, and more compelling than before, like a nagging little voice that couldn’t be silenced and didn’t want to let go. Images of two desperate young lovers running into the jungle, their eyes wide open with fear; the bloody face of a young man being savagely beaten; a faded postcard; Kikuyu Lodge; Kenya; the Hoffmeister video, and then a name – Siegfried Van Der Hooven, kept flashing across his mind’s eye.
Could this possibly be him? One and the same man? whispered a little voice. Destiny? Age fits. An invalid confined to a wheelchair? That too, could fit, thought Jack. My God, what if it’s him? Long shot? Sure. Possible? Maybe. Worth a try? Absolutely!
Jack made a spontaneous decision. Flush him out, he thought. But how? Bait him! That’s how. Arrogance and pride will do the rest. For that to work, Jack realised he had to change focus and direction in telling his story. He was going to introduce another subject to entice his opponent out into the open. He knew this was a risky strategy, but definitely worth the gamble.
‘Good question,’ said Jack. ‘I was about to turn down the offer, when something quite surprising happened. I’m tempted to call it an intervention of fate … I met an extraordinary woman – Señora Gonzales – in Mexico. You know her, surely.’
‘Don’t be absurd! Why should I?’ Macbeth said, obviously annoyed.
‘Are you seriously suggesting you’ve never heard of her?’ Unbelievable, thought Jack.
‘Do I have to repeat myself?’ Macbeth shot back.
Jack shrugged, but refused to believe that Macbeth was telling the truth. Simple common sense suggested otherwise. ‘The lady told me something that changed everything,’ continued Jack, undeterred. ‘She mentioned a name …’
‘Is this remotely relevant? What name?’ demanded Macbeth impatiently.
‘Sturmbannfuehrer Wolfgang Steinberger.’ Jack paused again, and watched Macbeth out of the corner of his eye. ‘Does that name sound familiar?’ he asked quietly.
How could he possibly know about Steinberger? thought Macbeth, his mind racing. What is this man up to? How much does he know? Macbeth hesitated before replying. It only lasted for an instant, but Jack had noticed it. ‘Go on,’ said Macbeth, his face as expressionless as before.
‘Strangely, it all began with my book – Dental Gold and Other Horrors – as it turned out. Have you read it?’
‘No.’
‘Perhaps you should.’
‘Why?’
Encouraged by what he had just seen, Jack decided to press on. ‘Because it’s all about Sturmbannfuehrer Steinberger …’ he said.
‘So?’ Macbeth demanded brusquely, a menacing edge in his voice.
‘Please bear with me …’ Jack decided to change direction again and move away from the Steinberger subject to allow it to do its work. If it did have the relevance he suspected, then Macbeth would be unable to resist raising it again.
‘MI5 seem to think the attack on Lord Elms and his wife was somehow connected with his work,’ said Jack. ‘Lord Elms was investigating something quite specific at the time he was killed—’
‘This is becoming tedious,’ interrupted Macbeth.
‘You think so? Lord Elms was looking into the illegal dumping of toxic waste, right here in Somalia twenty or so years ago, which made certain people very rich.’
‘So?’
‘Would you know anything about that?’
‘Should I?’
Jack hesitated for a moment. He had reached the fork in the road. Confronting Macbeth would mean crossing the line of no return and taking a huge risk. Jack was gambling with his life. He took a deep breath and said, ‘Oh, I think so. MI5 are convinced that the attack on Lord Elms was a Mafia hit. And who was involved in arranging the massive illegal dumping of toxic waste?’ Jack asked rhetorically. ‘Operating in the shadows and conveniently solving a major problem for European governments? Lord Elms discovered who. The Calabrian Mafia.’
‘Why are you telling me all this?’
‘You know exactly why. “Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires.” Shakespeare; Macbeth. Ring any bells?’
How does he know this too? thought Macbeth. ‘You speak in riddles,’ he replied.
‘Do I? It was you who arranged the Mafia hit on Lord and Lady Elms, isn’t that so?’ Jack pressed on. ‘The only thing unclear to me in all this is, why? What was so important about all this, twenty years after the event? What else did Lord Elms discover? What were those black and deep desires? Would you care to tell me, or are you too afraid?’
‘How dare you speak to me like that!’ bellowed Macbeth, losing his temper for the first time.
‘Facing the truth takes courage. We both know that you hold my life in your hands, yet here I am telling you all this. Have you got the courage to tell me what I’m missing in this story? I thought we had a deal, or are you too afraid?’ taunted Jack again. ‘Are you a coward?’
‘Damn your impertinence!’ shouted Macbeth.
Jack didn’t respond, contempt clouding his face. For a while, Macbeth just stared at him without saying anything. No one had dared speak to him like that, ever.
Macbeth was trying to compose himself. ‘All right, here’s the deal,’ he said calmly after a while. ‘You realise I cannot let you live if you want me to reply.’
‘This has been clear to me from the very start,’ said Jack.
‘Good. Then we understand each other. Your choice. You want me to go on?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘You know what you’ve just done?’
‘Sure.’
‘You just signed your own death warrant.’
Jack shrugged. ‘Then please, make it worthwhile,’ he said.
‘Oh, I will certainly do that. What would you like to know, Mr Rogan?’
‘Everything.’
81
Sharif had arranged for Kobo to take the place of a crew member on the tender delivering supplies to the Calypso. The plan was for Kobo to slip on board and make contact with one of Sharif’s men, a cook, working on the ship. There were also three young women on board servicing the cabins, who could help Kobo to find Jack and Dr Rosen. AK-47 and her sister vessel, AK-47-2, had taken up strategic positions in close proximity to the Calypso, with camouflaged rocket launchers and mortars trained on the ship. Two zodiacs were also ready and could be dispatched at a moment’s notice, with a well-armed boarding party who could reach the Calypso within minutes.
By instructing the captain to drop anchor in a nearby cove for security reasons instead of the main harbour, Macbeth had made a fatal mistake. He had unwittingly turned Calypso into a sitting duck, giving Sharif and his well-trained fighters the upper hand. They could easily take over the ship before help arrived from Mogadishu.
Kobo picked up a crate and carried it up the gangway. Two of Johannes’ men, both South African mercenaries, stood on deck, watching the barefooted Africans unloading the tenders. ‘Stupid kaffers,’ said one of the men, ‘just look at the bastards.’ Restocking the ship at sea was tedious, boring and took hours.
The cook was expecting Kobo. He was organising the storage of fresh vegetables and waited for him in the kitchen.
‘Put the crate over here and follow me,’ said the coo
k, handing a box full of toilet paper to Kobo. ‘Quickly; come!’
Below deck, the Calypso was a hive of activity with new supplies being delivered by the crew to various parts of the ship. ‘This is Adna,’ said the cook, pointing to a young woman pushing a trolley full of housekeeping gear along the corridor. ‘One of us. She’ll show you the way.’
‘Follow me,’ whispered Adna. She stopped her trolley in front of one of the cabins and busied herself with toiletries and towels. ‘The man you’re looking for is in here. My friend will distract the guard over there.’ The woman pointed with her chin to the far end of the corridor. ‘When she does, I’ll unlock the door and let you in; clear?’
‘Clear.’ said Kobo.
A young black woman was pushing her trolley towards them from the opposite direction. As she passed the guard – another surly South African – she tilted the trolley and all the cleaning gear fell on the floor.
‘Stupid bitch!’ shouted the guard. ‘Look what you’ve done. Clean it up!’
As the angry guard turned his back to face the girl, Adna quickly unlocked the cabin and Kobo slipped inside, unnoticed.
‘Does that answer all your questions,’ said Macbeth, ‘about those black and deep desires you mentioned earlier?’
Jack nodded, a stunned look on his face. Unbelievable, he thought, trying to come to terms with what Macbeth had just told him. While he had been on the right track all along, nothing could have prepared him for the full picture. The implications of what he had heard, if true, were staggering. And he couldn’t think of any reason for Macbeth to lie. He was far too proud and arrogant for that.
‘I think it’s my turn now,’ said Macbeth. He opened Jack’s notebook. ‘I have a few questions of my own.’
‘Go ahead. But let me warn you …’
‘Oh? A warning? What about?’ asked Macbeth, surprised.
‘You too are crossing a point of no return, just like I’ve just done.’
‘You don’t say,’ said Macbeth, the sarcasm in his voice obvious. ‘Surely with different consequences?’
‘Perhaps. Knowing too little can be frustrating, but knowing too much can be devastating,’ said Jack, ignoring the remark. ‘It’s the genie in the bottle. Once it’s out, there’s no way back. I think you may find this to be one of those occasions.’
‘I’ll take that chance,’ said Macbeth.
‘What would you like to talk about?’
‘Sturmbannfuehrer Wolfgang Steinberger, an ancient crystal skull and a video tape.’
‘Could Dr Rosen join us?’ asked Jack.
‘Why?’
‘Because she’s a major player in all this.’
‘You surprise me again.’
‘Oh, this is just the beginning …’
‘Very well.’ Macbeth rang the bell on his wheelchair. Carlotta appeared almost at once, as usual. ‘Please bring Dr Rosen up.’
‘Now you’ve really piqued my interest,’ said Macbeth after Carlotta had left the stateroom.
‘You will not be disappointed,’ said Jack. He sat back in his chair, trying to look relaxed but in fact, he was preparing himself for the performance of his life.
Just like Jack, Dr Rosen had also been given some fresh clothes: a pair of ill-fitting shorts and a Calypso tee-shirt that was much too big for her.
‘I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time, Dr Rosen,’ said Macbeth. ‘I’ve followed your work with interest for years. We have much in common.’
If only you knew, thought Jack.
‘I doubt that very much,’ said Dr Rosen quietly. ‘Complete disregard for human life and suffering are far removed from what I believe in and what I do.’
‘Our methods may differ, granted, but the end result is the same,’ Macbeth shot back. ‘You would be aware that Blackburn Pharmaceuticals has pioneered more drugs relieving human suffering and revolutionised how we deal effectively with disease than almost anyone else on the planet.’
‘Perhaps, but at what cost?’
‘A discussion for another time perhaps? For now, let’s agree to disagree. You are here because Mr Rogan has requested you should hear what he has to say. However, you should know that he has made a fateful decision,’ said Macbeth, a chill in his voice.
‘Oh?’
‘He has traded information for his life.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Deadly.’
Dr Rosen shot Jack a meaningful look.
‘And that may well apply to you too,’ continued Macbeth, ‘should you decide to stay and listen to what he has to say.’
‘I’ll stay,’ said Dr Rosen.
‘Very well. As you’ve already found out, meddling in matters that do not concern you can have serious consequences. And you, Dr Rosen, have been very busy doing just that.’
‘Addressing a monstrous wrong isn’t meddling; it’s something every decent human being would do; instinctively, and without hesitation,’ retorted Dr Rosen. ‘But perhaps you do not understand that.’
‘Tell me, Mr Macbeth, you have obviously no hesitation in pursuing your goals at any cost. You will do whatever it takes to succeed – right?’ interjected Jack.
‘You already know the answer to that.’
‘Does that include killing your own flesh and blood?’
‘I don’t follow,’ said Macbeth.
‘You will, trust me.’
‘Again, you speak in riddles, Mr Rogan.’
‘Perhaps you should hear this from someone else; someone who has firsthand knowledge of the matters you are so interested in.’
‘Please elaborate.’
‘You’ve seen the references to the Hoffmeister video in my notebook? Quotations?’
‘Yes, I have. And some cryptic references to Sturmbannfuehrer Steinberger and a certain crystal skull. Fascinating. These are some of the things I want you to tell me about.’
‘The Hoffmeister video can do that much better than I,’ said Jack calmly. ‘You can watch it right now if you like. In private would be best. No distractions that way …’
‘You are full of surprises, Mr Rogan.’
‘The video’s on my iPad, which you have in front of you. It’s quite long. My password is Eureka.’
‘Very well.’
Macbeth pressed the bell on his wheelchair. ‘Carlotta, would you please return our guests to their cabins?’
As soon as Macbeth was alone, he opened Jack’s iPad, called up the Hoffmeister video and pressed the play button.
‘Could Dr Rosen stay in my cabin for a while?’ asked Jack, following Carlotta and the guard downstairs. ‘Or are we to be segregated?’
‘I don’t see why not,’ said Carlotta. She knew the cabin would be locked and there was a guard outside at all times.
‘What’s going on, Jack?’ asked Dr Rosen as soon as they were alone in Jack’s cabin.
‘Macbeth is playing a deadly game. I’ve never come across anyone quite like him. He’s an insane genius living in an upside-down world of his own making. He was behind the attack on Lord and Lady Elms, just as we suspected. He admitted it.’
‘But why?’
‘That’s the really interesting bit—’ Jack was interrupted by a noise coming from his bathroom. ‘There’s someone in there,’ he whispered and pointed to the door.
They watched the bathroom door open slowly and held their breath.
‘You?’ said Jack. ‘How on earth—’
‘Shhhh.’ Kobo raised his index finger to his lips, and stepped into the room. ‘Listen carefully; there isn’t much time.’
82
Macbeth closed Jack’s iPad and stared out the window, the last question put to Hoffmeister ringing loudly in his ear: ‘Do you know what happened to the boy?’ He could also hear the answer: ‘Only vaguely. Apparently, he disappeared suddenly, not long after his father was killed. There were rumours that he too had been killed by the Mau Mau like his father. There were also rumours that he survived and was somewhere in hi
ding. No one was sure. Unfortunately, this was all too much for Greta. She died soon after. Some said of a broken heart; others that she took her own life …’
Incredible! thought Macbeth. When your whole view of the past is suddenly crushed by a different reality, emotions run wild and confusion reigns. Wolfgang, Erwin and Anton. Three voices from the past; two dead, one still alive, and reaching out to him through Jack the messenger. I wonder what else he knows. Macbeth turned his wheelchair away from the table and rang the bell.
As soon as they heard the key turn in the lock, they stopped talking.
‘Fifteen minutes, remember,’ hissed Kobo and darted into the bathroom. Jack looked at the door. It was Carlotta and the guard.
‘Mr Macbeth would like to see you,’ said Carlotta. Jack and Dr Rosen stood up. ‘Not you; only Mr Rogan.’ Jack made eye contact with Dr Rosen, pointed quickly to his watch, and then followed Carlotta out of the cabin.
For a man who thrived on action, waiting was torture. Sharif lit another cigarette and reached for his binoculars. Everything appeared calm and normal on the Calypso. Sharif put down the binoculars and looked first at his watch, and then his phone on the chart table in front of him. He should have called by now, he thought. Everything is ready. We should be going now! A successful raid relied on surprise. Sharif realised that each passing minute put the entire plan in jeopardy.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Lola, sensing Sharif’s unease.
‘Nothing, I hope, but we can’t be sure.’
Then the phone rang. It was Kobo.
‘He’s in and has made contact with Jack and Dr Rosen,’ said Sharif, relieved. ‘They are ready for us. We are going in fifteen minutes!’
‘You were absolutely right, Mr Rogan,’ said Macbeth after Carlotta had left the cabin. ‘Once the genie is out of the bottle, there’s no way back. For you, or for me. You do understand that, don’t you?’
‘Perfectly,’ said Jack. He quickly looked at his watch again. Ten minutes, he thought.
‘What was he like?’ asked Macbeth.
‘Who?’
‘Wolfgang Steinberger.’
‘In a way, he reminds me of you. When I met him, he was Sir Eric Newman, a respected banker living in Sydney,’ said Jack. ‘A new name, new identity, new life. He had become a powerful and successful man, but the past had caught up with him. He was put on trial for war crimes. It’s all in my book. As I said before, you should read it.’
The Hidden Genes of Professor K: A Medical Mystery Thriller (Jack Rogan Mysteries Book 3) Page 40
