Political instinct is a curious creature. One either has it, or not. Something about the folder made Huntington feel uneasy and the hairs on the back of his neck tingle. ‘Thank you,’ he said without taking his eyes off the document. The PA took this as a dismissal and headed for the door. As soon as she had left the room, Huntington opened the folder, and paled.
Questions the Prime Minister will be asking in Parliament tomorrow: read Huntington.
1. Has the Labour Party received any political donations – directly or indirectly – from Blackburn Pharmaceuticals or Alistair Macbeth?
2. Has the Leader of the Opposition received any benefit or support –directly or indirectly – from Blackburn Pharmaceuticals or Alistair Macbeth?
3. Has the Leader of the Opposition ever met with Alistair Macbeth, or had any dealings with him personally?
In shock by now and trembling, Huntington read how Alistair Macbeth had allegedly made a fortune out of illegal toxic waste disposal in Somalia during the nineteen eighties and nineties, which had caused untold misery to the local population and killed thousands. He learned how this highly profitable venture had been brokered by the Calabrian Mafia … His vision blurred, Huntington took off his glasses and sat back to digest the enormity of what he had just read.
Then, taking a deep breath, he finished reading the questions and turned the page. For a long while, he just stared at the document pinned to the front page, his fingers shaking.
Two hours later, Daniel Huntington shocked the nation. Overwhelmed by another man’s black and deep desires, he fell on his sword and resigned.
102
Jana walked into the rundown Bondi nursing home and asked to see the matron. She had received a phone call early that morning, telling her that Lena Abramowitz had passed away during the night.
‘She died peacefully,’ said the matron. ‘Would you like to see her? She’s still in her room. Will you be making the funeral arrangements?’
‘There’s no one else?’ asked Jana.
‘Not that we’re aware of. A Jewish charity arranged her admission here and a couple of volunteers came to visit her from time to time, but apart from that …’
‘I see. Yes, I will make the arrangements.’
‘Good. Just come to see me when you’re ready,’ said the matron, and pointed down the corridor. ‘You do remember her room?’
Jana nodded. ‘Yes, I do,’ she said.
Jana stopped in front of Lena’s room, a sense of apprehension washing over her. She remembered the first time she had visited Lena Abramowitz with Jack in her shabby little flat in Rose Bay three years ago. On that occasion, they had shown her that horrible photograph of the SS Major and the pitiful, naked boy. That had been the beginning of an extraordinary journey of discovery and revelation, lifting the curtain on unspeakable suffering and monstrous wrongs of the past. Jack’s famous book – Dental Gold and Other Horrors – dealt with some of it, but there was more; so much more …
This is the end of an era, thought Jana, and the end of a sad and tragic life. The horrors Lena would have witnessed in Auschwitz … Jana remembered the recent Hoffmeister interview in Buenos Aires. And we thought the Steinberger saga had been closed … Somehow, evil never dies …
Jana opened the door and quietly entered the room.
Lena Abramowitz was lying in her bed, a small posy of flowers in her bony hands. She looked fragile, but at peace. For a while, Jana stood by the bed and just watched the old lady. Then, overcome by the sadness of the moment and the finality of it all, she began to pray: ‘Love is always patient and kind. It is never jealous. Love is never boastful or conceited …’
Jana heard someone knocking softly and turned around to see the door open and a woman enter the room. ‘Matron told me I would find you here,’ said the woman. ‘You are Jana?’ Jana nodded. ‘I’m Pastor Caroline. Do you mind if I come in?’
Jana welcomed the interruption. ‘Please do,’ she said, wiping tears from her cheeks.
‘I was with Lena when she died,’ said the pastor. ‘She was very coherent and lucid right to the very end. I speak German, you see. She spoke about Auschwitz and her sister Miriam, and the operations … She spoke about the Nazi major with the dog, and the trial. She spoke about you …’
‘Me?’ said Jana, surprised.
‘Yes. You and your friend brought the Sturmbannfuehrer to justice, she said. And that’s why she wanted you to have this.’ The pastor reached into her pocket and pulled out a small silver locket on a chain. ‘She wore it around her neck,’ said the pastor, handing the locket to Jana. ‘She said you would know what it was.’
Jana opened it. Inside was a tiny photograph of two identical looking young girls in ponytails, and a lock of blonde hair.
Jana met Alexandra at the Gordon for coffee later that morning. Alexandra had insisted on going straight back to work after her ordeal, to continue her research. She thought that keeping busy would be the best way to cope with what she’d been through in the past two days.
‘How did it go?’ asked Alexandra. ‘You look sad.’
‘She’s at peace. I’ve made funeral arrangements. There’s no one else. Marcus and I will pay for it.’
‘May I contribute?’ said Alexandra. ‘I would really like to.’
‘Sure.’
‘Moretti came to see me. You just missed him.’
‘Oh?’
‘Akhil, my assistant, has been arrested.’
‘That’s hardly a surprise. Moretti came to tell you this?’
‘No, he came to apologise … He feels somehow responsible for what happened,’ said Alexandra.
‘That’s nonsense, surely,’ said Jana.
‘Not the way he sees it. I was his responsibility. He had to keep me safe, he said, and he failed.’
‘Wow!’
‘There’s more,’ said Alexandra, ‘and it’s really interesting.’
‘Tell me.’
‘You know what he said? Apparently, when forensics examined the video equipment they discovered that everything had been wiped … The recording of my …’ Alexandra faltered, then she whispered, ‘It’s gone. Disappeared.’
‘Just like that? Do you believe him?’ asked Jana, lowering her voice.
‘That it’s gone – yes. As to how – no, not really. I think he wiped it. It was his way to make amends. He almost hinted … He wanted to spare me, I’m sure of it. The stuff was really unimaginable. Grotesque, brutal, degrading in the extreme …’ said Alexandra. ‘Having to watch it say, in court, would be unthinkable.’
‘Decent chap,’ said Jana, nodding her head. ‘Rare.’ Skipping the almost mandatory medical examination after Alexandra’s ordeal suddenly made sense.
‘Moretti also said that this would have no bearing on the prosecution. He had enough evidence to convict the guys several times over. And with Van Cleef dead …’
‘That’s great. You deserve this. I too have something to tell you,’ said Jana. She reached into her handbag and pulled out Lena’s locket.
‘What’s this?’ asked Alexandra.
Jana handed her the locket. ‘Open it,’ she said.
Alexandra held up the lovely piece. ‘How beautiful. Where did you get it from?’
‘Lena left it to me,’ said Jana, her voice quivering with emotion.
‘Oh?’ Alexandra opened the locket and looked inside.
‘My God! Is that what I think it is?’
Jana nodded.
Alexandra could barely suppress her excitement. ‘The Abramowitz twins? A lock of hair? Miriam’s?’ she said.
‘I think so.’
‘Do you realise what this means?’
‘Tell me.’
‘We can now sequence the genome of the other twin.’
‘Is that important?’
Tears in her eyes, Alexandra stood up, and embraced Jana. With all the pent-up emotions of the past forty-eight hours bursting like a dam, Alexandra began to sob. ‘More than I can possibly explain right
now,’ she whispered and kissed Jana on the cheek.
103
Jack knew he was being watched. With the whole country in turmoil after the Labour leader’s shock resignation, it was hardly surprising. Sir Charles’ advice had been brief and to the point: ‘Better lie low for a while, Jack, or better still, get out of Britain until things settle down a bit. Toppling the Opposition is enough excitement for the time being … Everyone’s a little jumpy here. I’ve already told Isis that this is definitely not the right time to come home. MI5 is a little trigger-happy and the newshounds are already in a frenzy. We don’t want to throw another juicy bone to the salivating pack, do we?’
‘Good point,’ agreed Jack. He welcomed the friendly advice because he was about to take Tristan back to France in any event. Jack closed his notebook, stepped out of his room and went looking for Lola. He found her hunched over her computer by the huge window overlooking the Thames, her favourite place in The Time Machine’s apartment. ‘I have an idea …’
Lola pushed her keyboard aside and looked expectantly at Jack.
‘I’ve been thinking …’ he said.
‘Oh? What about?’
‘How best to complete my assignment.’
‘I don’t follow …’ said Lola.
‘Somehow, I have to get everyone together in one place …’
‘Why?’
‘So I can tell them what we’ve found out. They should all hear it at the same time to avoid misunderstandings and confusion. That’s really important here. Remember what Isis said?’
‘What?’ said Lola.
‘No secrets.’ Jack held up his notebook. ‘It’s all in here. All the threads. I believe I now have everything needed to pull them all together to complete the picture and solve the puzzle. And what a puzzle it is.’ Jack shook his head. ‘Quite unbelievable. This should really happen sooner rather than later. Especially in light of recent events here, in Sydney and in Somalia.’
‘Is that really necessary? Everybody coming together, I mean.’
‘It is.’
‘Who should be there?’
‘Isis of course, and Señora Gonzales; the two central players. Then you and Hanna, Sir Charles and Sir Humphrey, naturally. Dr Rosen, if she can spare the time. She too may be glad to get out of the limelight for a while. The countess and Tristan would be there already … Alexandra and Jana would be good, but that’s unlikely. Tyranny of distance.’
‘You’ve obviously thought of something. What’s on your mind?’
‘Well, things are a little bit hot around here and Sir Charles definitely doesn’t want Isis to come back just now. So, why don’t we speak to Countess Kuragin and see if we can rent her chateau for a while? It’s big enough to accommodate everyone. It’s geographically convenient and totally private. It could even be a great place for Isis’ recuperation for a while. I’m sure she’d like that. What do you think?’
‘Excellent idea, Jack. Let’s get on to it straight away.’
‘Why don’t you speak to Isis and I’ll call the countess,’ said Jack. ‘Let’s see what reaction we get.’
Early the next day, Jack caught the Eurostar to Paris with Tristan and Dr Rosen. Lola had flown to Mexico to pick up Señora Gonzales before collecting Isis and Hanna in Boston on her round trip to Paris.
As expected, Countess Kuragin had embraced Jack’s request with enthusiasm and delight. She immediately cancelled all other engagements and was looking forward to welcoming everyone to her chateau. The hostess in her was already in overdrive. Jack, Tristan and Dr Rosen would be the first to arrive and the countess had sent François to meet them at Gare du Nord, the train station in Paris. The others were due the next day.
Jack looked at Tristan sitting next to him. ‘We have to get this right, you understand,’ he said, the tone of his voice conspiratorial.
‘Oh? What exactly?’
‘Our story. Your holiday with me … If Katerina gets wind of what we’ve really been up to, you can forget your next trip, mate.’
‘She already knows,’ said Tristan, casually brushing Jack’s concerns aside.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Katerina and Lola have been in contact all the time. She knows exactly where we’ve been, and what we’ve been doing. There’s nothing to worry about.’
‘I see,’ said Jack. ‘And you knew this all along?’
Tristan shrugged.
‘Great. I’m just the dummy in the middle,’ said Jack.
‘No. You’re much more than that,’ said Tristan, grinning. ‘You’re an incorrigible—’
‘Just shut up,’ interrupted Jack, and looked out the window.
‘Sulk if you must, but I thought you’d be pleased.’
‘For Christ’s sake!’
‘All right; I get it.’
The welcome Jack and Tristan received at the chateau was a little overwhelming. The whole household was buzzing with excitement and Countess Kuragin was overseeing everything personally. Flowers in every room, a string quartet for the evening and a dinner menu fit for royalty were just the beginning. To have everyone come to her home was a treat she hadn’t expected, and to have a megastar like Isis staying indefinitely as her guest was something the whole district would talk about for months. Never a boring moment with Jack, she thought, and Tristan is doing cartwheels.
‘Aren’t you pleased now that Katerina already knows everything?’ said Tristan.
‘What are you getting at?’ asked Jack, feigning disinterest.
‘Can’t you see? No grilling for either of us, no endless questions, no recriminations … only hugs and kisses. We can do no wrong. Thank you, Lola!’
‘All right. You may have something there,’ conceded Jack. ‘Now, please keep out of the way for a while. François just pulled up. I have to talk to Sir Charles before the others arrive. Isis will be here in a couple of hours. That should keep you happy – right?’
Sir Charles and Sir Humphrey had arrived on the Eurostar together and François picked them up from the station. Sir Humphrey had gone to his room to freshen up and Sir Charles was in the library on his own. He was enjoying a glass of champagne and reading The Times he had brought with him, when Jack walked in.
‘Splendid idea, Jack, to bring everyone here,’ said Sir Charles. He put down the paper. ‘It’s a madhouse at home. Here, have a look.’
‘I’ve seen it,’ said Jack. He took the champagne bottle out of the ice bucket and topped up Sir Charles’ glass.
‘This whole affair needs some time to settle down. Huntington’s resignation has virtually handed the election to the government on a plate. People are screaming for answers.’
‘So, Stars, hide your fires was a success?’ said Jack. ‘Posthumously?’
‘Resounding. Here, I have a present for you,’ said Sir Charles. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out an envelope and put it on the table in front of Jack. ‘From a very grateful George Underwood. Something for your briefing session tonight …’
Jack opened the envelope. It contained only one piece of paper, neatly folded in half. He pulled it out of the envelope and read it, disbelief and surprise clouding his face. ‘Is that what brought Huntington to his knees?’ said Jack quietly after a while.
‘What do you think?’ said Sir Charles, and raised his glass. ‘Stars, hide your fires, indeed. In this case, they appear to have ignited an unstoppable inferno. Cheers!’
104
‘Well, do you like it?’ said Isis, examining herself in the mirror.
‘Stunning, as usual,’ Lola reassured her. It was the first time Isis had displayed any interest in her appearance since the operation. Accentuated by a blonde wig that would have made Lady Gaga jealous, her tight-fitting black pantsuit by John Galliano – one of her favourite designers – showed off her figure to perfection.
‘At least I still have my curves,’ said Isis. She smoothed down the sides of the pantsuit and held up a pair of black trousers. ‘Or do you think the black cu
lottes with a Chanel blouse would look better? I’m certainly not wearing a bloody dress. Formal dinner or not,’ she said.
Lola walked over to Isis and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Don’t fret; you look great. And please remember, you’re among friends here.’
Isis took off her wig, her shaved head making her suddenly appear much older. ‘Look at this train wreck,’ she said, tracing the long, zipper-like scar running down the back of her skull with the tips of her manicured fingers. ‘At least we’re in the transformation business, appearance wise. I no longer know who I am,’ continued Isis, shaking her head. ‘Perhaps tonight will change that,’ she said quietly. ‘Come on, let’s do make-up and see if we can turn this train wreck into the Orient Express – eh?’
Watched over by Lola and Señora Gonzales, Isis had slept during most of the flight, which was exactly what Dr Greenberg had hoped for. She had arrived refreshed and in good spirits at the Kuragin Chateau in the afternoon. Feeling instantly at home in the fabulous suite on the first floor, with a great view down into the park-like gardens, she enjoyed the warm welcome extended to her by the countess. With an instant rapport springing up between them, they had liked each other at first sight and got on like old friends. And then, of course, there was Tristan, radiating exuberance and teenage adoration, which was as endearing as it was irresistible. Isis certainly didn’t mind. It was precisely what she needed after her Boston ordeal.
Señora Gonzales, on the other hand, felt tired and apprehensive. She had only spoken to Jack briefly after her arrival, but what he told her filled her with dread. Part of her desperately wanted to know, and part of her desperately wanted to forget. She had hurried to her room after their arrival to collect her thoughts and to rest.
Unable to have a nap, she examined the past and tried to prepare herself for what Jack would reveal in the evening. All he had said was that he had found the answers to most of the questions … She tried to get more out of him, but he had politely refused, reminding her of their arrangement. Señora Gonzales knew exactly what he meant. She had set the rules in place herself.
The Hidden Genes of Professor K Page 49
