The Curious Case of the Missing Head

by Gabriel Farago

  ‘It was the same with me …’

  ‘How is that possible?’ said Agabe. ‘For a while you were only a frozen head without a body, kept alive by a complex process …’

  ‘I know. I can’t explain it. Admittedly, there are gaps in my recollection, but I could comprehend everything that was happening around me with great clarity and without feeling any pain or emotion. Just like now.’

  ‘Extraordinary,’ said Agabe and began to examine his patient. ‘Everything looks good,’ he said. ‘Blood pressure and heartbeat, perfect. Astonishing.’ Then he reached for his video camera and began to film Stolzfus.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Jack.

  ‘Instructions. I have to record everything, just as we’ve recorded the entire operation. Proof ...’

  ‘It’s all about the brain, Dr Agabe,’ said Stolzfus. ‘We know so little about it, yet we owe it everything. Do you ever wonder how we ended up with a brain consisting of one hundred billion neurons and one hundred trillion connections? That’s more than all the stars in the universe.’

  How strange, thought Jack, remembering a similar conversation in a refugee camp in Somalia a few years ago. This is exactly what Dr Rosen and I discussed after Tristan had that bad dream. ‘That’s staggering,’ said Jack. ‘Life has come a long way since it first crawled out of the primordial soup millions of years ago.’

  ‘I know you are interested in this subject, Mr Rogan,’ said Stolzfus. ‘I’ve read all of your books …’

  ‘You have? How come?’

  ‘My sister, Rebecca, introduced me to them. She’s very proud of what you do and gave me copies of your books to read.’

  Of course. Jack shook his head. Another moment of destiny. ‘Yes, in the beginning, progress was slow and nothing much appeared to happen,’ continued Jack. ‘Then, two hundred and fifty thousand years ago something occurred in the Rift Valley in Ethiopia that changed everything.’

  ‘That’s not that far from where I was born,’ interjected Agabe. ‘What happened?’

  ‘An apeman did something quite extraordinary.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘He picked up a lump of obsidian – volcanic glass – and split it. He now had a razor-sharp flint, which he attached to a long piece of wood. He now had a weapon, a spear for hunting. It all went from there. Two hundred and fifty thousand years later – a relatively short period of time – apeman has become spaceman, contemplating the universe, how it began, and where it is heading. Right, Professor?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Stolzfus. ‘And he’s getting very close to a theory that explains everything. If he’s capable of doing that, it will be his crowning achievement because then, he will know the mind of God.’

  ‘And all thanks to a grey blob of matter we still don’t fully understand, weighing about a kilo and a half. Amazing, don’t you think?’ said Jack.

  ‘I totally agree with you. And to show you just how right you are, I would like to ask you a favour,’ said Stolzfus, suddenly sounding very tired. The strain of talking was beginning to show.

  ‘Of course. What favour?’

  ‘Could you please write something down for me?’

  ‘Sure. What exactly? I have pen and paper right here. The good doctor and I kept score …’

  ‘A couple of equations I’ve been working on during the past few days.’

  ‘That’s incredible,’ said Agabe. ‘You did that while you were in a coma?’

  ‘Yes. And what’s perhaps even more surprising, my mind has never felt sharper or stronger. Without the distractions of life, I have been able to focus completely on solving problems that had seemed insurmountable to me for a number of years now. Suddenly, there is this clarity. I am able to travel through time and space in my imagination and look at the problems in completely different ways. The calculations are complex and it would help me if you could write them down. As you can imagine, I don’t want to lose them …’

  Suddenly, Stolzfus’s voice became fainter until it was almost inaudible and trailed off. He closed his eyes and his breathing became shallow.

  ‘Is he drifting back into a coma?’ asked Jack, sounding concerned.

  ‘No, I don’t think so. He’s falling asleep,’ said Agabe, feeling Stolzfus’s pulse. ‘This must have been a huge effort for him and, I expect, extremely exhausting and confronting, even for a man like him.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ said Jack. ‘He obviously needs rest. We should leave him to it.’

  ‘Yes, we should. I still can’t believe this.’ Agabe shook his head. ‘We’ve just spoken to a man who is being kept alive by a body that not so long ago belonged to someone else, who says he can feel no pain and no emotions, and whose astounding mind is functioning better than before, perhaps in a totally new, unique way we can’t even imagine. I believe we are witnessing history here, Jack.’

  ‘I look at it in a different way.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Yes. I believe that Stolzfus, like Tristan, can hear the whisper of angels and glimpse eternity. The only difference is he can work out what those whispers mean and interpret them. Next time he wakes up, I have to be ready to write it all down.’

  ‘You are right. Every moment he’s conscious is precious. In a case like this, we never know what’s around the corner …’

  ‘What do you think brought him out of the coma?’ asked Jack. ‘So suddenly and without apparent reason?’

  ‘Don’t laugh. I think it was the music.’

  ‘What? My humming?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘I’ve seen this before in Africa. Music can have a profound effect on the mind we don’t quite understand. I’ve seen witchdoctors go into a trance triggered by the sound of drums or flutes, and come out of it when it stopped.’

  ‘Are you suggesting that somehow hearing The Lost Symphony that was played during the operation, brought him out of the coma?’

  ‘It’s possible.’

  ‘Amazing. Another game?’

  ‘Sure, but only if you promise not to hum. We don’t want to wake the professor, do we?’

  ‘Certainly not! Even a genius needs sleep. Your move.’

  42

  Chief Prosecutor’s office, Florence: 7 July

  Cesaria knew Grimaldi hated to be kept waiting. Breathless and late, she burst open the door to his office for the briefing she had arranged the day before. Andersen and Tristan were already there, chatting to Grimaldi. ‘Apologies,’ said Cesaria as she hurried into the room and sat down. ‘I got tied up on the phone with forensics.’

  ‘You are here now; that’s all that matters,’ said Grimaldi, putting his star officer at ease. He knew she was under a lot of pressure from various quarters, but the situation was serious and the Squadra Mobile was under the spotlight, which meant that he too was in the glare of scrutiny and attention from above. A breakthrough of sorts was badly needed, and Grimaldi was hoping Cesaria would deliver one. The chief prosecutor sat back in his chair and looked expectantly at Cesaria.

  ‘The police divers have recovered Teodora’s body from the lake. Unfortunately, it’s very deep there and it took longer than expected. We have searched Teodora’s villa and obtained her phone records, and secured computer equipment and several laptops. Forensics are examining the material right now and retrieving information.’

  ‘That will take some time, I expect,’ said Grimaldi.

  ‘It will. But I can confirm that the cryptic telephone message left for Tristan at Palazzo da Baggio at three thirty-four pm on four July came from Teodora. It was the last call she made before she plunged to her death.’

  ‘“Tell Tristan Jack Rogan is alive and he is being taken to Colombia”,’ interjected Tristan. ‘Are we any closer to finding out what that could mean?’

  ‘We are,’ said Cesaria. ‘I interviewed Izabel Gonzales at the villa. She had a broken leg and was waiting for Teodora. She was quite distraught. In fact, she and Teodora had a lengthy telephone conver
sation lasting over two hours just before Teodora spoke to Lorenza at the Palazzo.’

  ‘Do we know what that was about?’ asked Grimaldi.

  ‘We do. Izabel cooperated fully and I am satisfied that she has nothing to do with this matter. She’s unaware of what has been going on. She and Teodora had only met recently and were lovers.’

  ‘A dead end then?’ said Grimaldi, frowning.

  ‘Not entirely,’ said Cesaria, a hesitant smile spreading across her tired face. ‘Somehow it’s always the little unexpected things that seem to make all the difference.’

  ‘Can you please elaborate?’ asked Andersen, who until then hadn’t said a word.

  ‘I can. And it’s about when and where Izabel met Teodora.’

  ‘Intriguing,’ said Grimaldi.

  ‘It is. Izabel and her friend Claudia – both former Victoria’s Secret Angels – were invited by Alessandro Giordano to spend a couple of days on the Nike in Port de Fontvieille. Claudia is Alessandro’s present girlfriend. One of them.’ Cesaria paused to let this sink in.

  ‘When was that?’ asked Tristan.

  ‘On fifteen April. That’s the day Izabel met Teodora. A chance meeting. But what’s even more interesting is who else was there at the time.’

  ‘Who?’ asked Grimaldi, leaning forward in his chair.

  ‘A man called Raul Rodrigo.’

  ‘And he is important because ...?’ said Grimaldi.

  ‘He’s the New York lawyer representing Hernando Cordoba, the head of the notorious H Cartel in Colombia,’ said Andersen. ‘He also acts for Cordoba’s son, who is presently on death row in Arizona awaiting execution.’

  ‘Charming family,’ said Tristan.

  Grimaldi smiled. Cesaria and Andersen had just provided the breakthrough he so desperately needed: a direct link between the Giordanos and the H Cartel, one of the biggest drug suppliers in South America, and one of the most ambitious and ruthless. Hoping for just such a breakthrough, Grimaldi had arranged a meeting with Alessandro and his father for the next day. He now had exactly what he needed to apply the necessary pressure he had been looking for. Grimaldi had crossed swords with Riccardo Giordano before. He knew how his mind worked and therefore how to handle him. But most important of all, he knew his weakness and how to use this to his advantage. It had worked before and Grimaldi was hoping it would do so again.

  ‘But that’s not all,’ continued Cesaria. ‘Izabel overheard a conversation between Alessandro and Rodrigo on the Nike that could shed some light on what is going on here.’

  ‘Oh? What conversation?’ asked Grimaldi.

  ‘About handing something over in Morocco and using the Nike to deliver it there.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘I have no reason to doubt Izabel’s recollection or truthfulness.’

  ‘Excellent work,’ said Grimaldi.

  Andersen nodded and turned to Grimaldi. She had just returned from the American Naval base in Naples after a marathon interrogation session involving Aladdin, Silvanus and the crew of the Nike. ‘The pieces of the puzzle are slowly falling into place,’ she said. ‘But one key element is still missing here, and nothing I’ve heard so far is helping us with that.’

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Grimaldi.

  ‘Why a Mafia family here in Florence engaged one of the most notorious and expensive hit-squads in the world to abduct a prominent scientist, and then arranged to hand him over to a South American drug cartel in Morocco,’ said Tristan.

  Andersen nodded. ‘Precisely. Nothing we’ve been able to glean from the interrogations in Naples has thrown any light on this baffling question. The two male members of the squad in custody haven’t said a word and are demanding to see their lawyer, and the crew are too afraid to say anything. They are more frightened of the Mafia than they are of the CIA; no-one’s talking.’

  ‘That’s been troubling me too,’ said Grimaldi. ‘But the Mafia does nothing without a reason, and the reason is usually calculated and clear. It’s always about money and power.’

  ‘But with Stolzfus dead, whatever arrangement or deal might have been in place between the Giordanos and the H Cartel has gone terribly wrong,’ said Cesaria. ‘It’s all over, right?’

  Tristan realised the right moment had arrived for him to step in and drop the bombshell he had been carrying around for some time now. ‘Not necessarily,’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Cesaria.

  Tristan cleared his throat. ‘Assume for the moment that Stolzfus isn’t dead, but has in fact just been taken on the Nike from Malta to Morocco—’

  ‘But that’s absurd,’ interrupted Grimaldi. ‘We have his body. Identified by his sister and confirmed by DNA tests.’

  ‘Yes, you have his body, but not his head,’ said Tristan. ‘I know this is difficult to take in and appears to fly in the face of logic, but I strongly believe Stolzfus is alive.’

  ‘Based on what, for heaven’s sake?’ Grimaldi said, becoming annoyed.

  ‘Have any of you heard of a cephalosomatic anastomosis, or CSA?’

  Grimaldi shook his head. ‘What on earth is that?’

  ‘A head transplant.’

  ‘A what?’ said Grimaldi impatiently.

  ‘I’ve done some research on this fascinating subject. It would appear that Professor Fabry was somewhat of an authority on this, albeit a very controversial one. In essence, the head is removed from a damaged, dying body and surgically attached to a healthy, brain-dead body, thereby keeping the healthy brain, and therefore the person, alive.’

  ‘This is fantasy, surely,’ said Grimaldi.

  ‘As far as I’m aware this has never been done successfully involving a live human, but Fabry claimed it could be done, and it was only a matter of time before a successful in vivo CSA was carried out.’

  ‘Are you seriously suggesting that this could have happened to Stolzfus?’ interjected Andersen.

  ‘I am,’ said Tristan.

  Grimaldi shook his head. ‘This is absurd! We are going nowhere with this and wasting time.’

  Cesaria held up her hand. ‘Let’s not dismiss this just yet,’ she said, trying to smooth the ruffled feathers. ‘Let’s hear what else Tristan has to say. We mustn’t forget that he is capable of certain unique insights that have helped us before. Quite spectacularly, if I remember correctly, with Lorenza da Baggio’s abduction, Conti and the Gambio matter.’

  ‘It’s all about intuition,’ said Tristan, stepping in. ‘I keep hearing this music and then I see things ... I cannot add much more at this stage, but I did tell Jack about it just before he disappeared.’

  ‘What was his reaction when you told him?’ Grimaldi wanted to know.

  ‘A bit like yours, but Jack knows how to keep an open mind and not to dismiss what I sense, however far-fetched it might appear at the time.’

  ‘Perhaps so, but I cannot run an investigation based on intuition, insights and “visions”. I need facts and proof.’

  ‘But you can run on gut feeling,’ said Cesaria. ‘I’ve seen you do it many times before, sir, and then find the facts and proof later to back it all up. Is this so different?’ came her polite rebuke.

  ‘Why don’t we keep this possibility in the back of our minds for the time being?’ suggested Andersen, trying to find some common ground. ‘Just for now. But I must admit the possibility raised by Tristan has a certain seductive appeal.’

  ‘In what way?’ asked Grimaldi.

  ‘Because it does answer many of the questions that are troubling us right now.’

  Cesaria shot Tristan a meaningful look and winked. ‘Good suggestion,’ she said, realising that Tristan’s extraordinary hypothesis couldn’t go much further at that stage.

  Andersen stood up and walked over to Grimaldi’s whiteboard. ‘Let’s not worry about this and what’s still missing for the moment. Let’s have a closer look at what we do have instead and take it from there.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Grimaldi, feeling better. ‘Please
go ahead, Major.’

  43

  On the Coatilcue, approaching the coast of South America: 8 July

  ‘Queen to f3,’ said Stolzfus. ‘Checkmate. Sorry.’

  ‘Damn!’ said Jack. ‘I didn’t see this coming, Zac. Will I ever win a game?’

  ‘Don’t despair, my friend, you are doing exceptionally well. Huge improvement over the last two days. It’s all about strategy and anticipation, and sizing up your opponent.’

  ‘You only keep saying this to encourage me to continue playing so that you can beat me. Easy for you. You can see the entire game in your head. Several moves down the track. Not like me. I struggle with each move, one at a time.’

  ‘Patience. You will master this in due course. If you want to. You are a man of action, Jack, not of contemplation. I’m a mathematician and a theoretical physicist. That’s all about thinking. Very different. That reminds me. It’s time for our little lecture. Are you ready?’

  ‘Sure. Beats losing.’

  Jack reached for his notepad and biro. Since Stolzfus had come out of his coma two days ago, he had made remarkable progress and a special bond had developed between Stolzfus, Agabe and Jack. They spent most of the day together in Stolzfus’s small cabin, whiling away the long, monotonous hours by talking about physics, the mysteries of the universe and playing chess.

  But Stolzfus also appeared to be working. His mind never stopped and he looked at chess as a welcome distraction from his never-ending calculations and equations, all of which Jack had to write down. It was the way he seemed to cope with his extraordinary predicament and come to terms with his new, confronting reality. He also enjoyed teaching Jack and Agabe about general relativity and quantum field theory, which underpinned all of modern physics and most closely seemed to resemble the elusive theory of everything Stolzfus appeared to be so obsessed with.