9- Jack

The place seemed to be trying to pass itself off as some kind of fancy spa. It was a beautiful chalet in a rather remote part of Switzerland, and if Jack didn’t know it was actually a cosmetic surgery clinic and recovery hostel, he might have even considered sending his mother here on vacation. After riding for hours over the snow-covered Swiss countryside, the traditional alpine architecture of the front lobby was cozy and inviting. A waiting area with plush furniture and a huge wood-burning fireplace beckoned from one side, and on the other side was a rustic-looking wood and stone reception desk, where a man was arguing loudly in German with the flustered middle-aged woman on the other side.

Jack studied the two. Not knowing a word of the German language, he could only guess at what the man’s problem was. He was very well-dressed. Expensive-looking beige jumper over a crisp cream-colored oxford shirt and a pair of perfectly-tailored brown pants and matching shoes. He had a nice-looking wool coat over one arm too. Obviously either one of the well-to-do patients or, more likely, a relative of one. The man had a very handsome face, if a bit scruffy. Probably one of those fashionable types who kept a bit of stubble on his face and messed up his hair on purpose, trying to look like Russell Crowe. Sand-colored hair, lightly tanned, blue-grey eyes. Perfect teeth. The man was probably an actor or a model of some sort. Real people didn’t look like that.

Jack and three of his colleagues approached the desk. The man fell silent and looked suspiciously at their group. They all presented their identification and the officer from Belgium, whose name Jack hadn't bothered to remember since the man had never even spoken to him, introduced them all and explained their business. They were tracking a dangerous criminal and had reason to believe she had recently visited a patient here. After studying their badges and making a quick phone call, the receptionist grudgingly handed over the guest book.

She hadn’t even bothered to use a different name. "Nadina Jones" was printed neatly and clearly. She’d been there just three days ago, and she’d had the boy with her. Jack smirked. They were catching up with her. "We’ll need to speak with the person she came to see," he told the receptionist. Then he remembered that the conversation had been all in German so far. The other officers all shot him annoyed looks.

But the woman smiled and said, "Of course. Let me just inform Ms. Stille that she has guests, and I shall have someone show you up."

Jack smiled at her. God bless the Swiss for being so well-educated. Her English was flawless.

The man who had been arguing with her flushed red when he saw what room she was calling. "Why do you need to speak with her?" he asked Jack in English. "Your criminal has already left. Go after her!"

The Belgian stepped forward. "We need more information about our suspect," he explained brusquely. "If you know this person, we may need to speak with you as well."

The man glared at them, staring at each officer in turn, finally resting his eyes on Jack. "Fine," he said. "One of you may come and speak with her. And that same one may interview me too. The rest of you can wait here. If you will agree to this, I will cooperate with you, and I will convince Hespah to cooperate with you as well. Otherwise neither of us will be able to remember anything."

Jack’s companions all looked at each other, then the Belgian nodded his head. "Very well," he said, "I’ll go."

The man seemed to be sizing him up as he looked him over, then said, "No. I want the Indian."

Jack looked around. There was only one person here of Indian descent. "I assume you mean me."

The man smiled for the first time and held out his hand. "Karl Waiblingen," he said.

"Detective Chief Inspector Jack Bannerjee, British Police," Jack replied as he took Mr. Waiblingen’s hand in a firm shake.

One of Jack’s colleagues, an Eastern European fellow that the others simply called Kostya, placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. "Take this," were the first words this man had ever directed at him as he handed Jack a small recording device. Jack had come prepared with his own tape recorder, but he took Kostya’s too, pleasantly surprised at the comradely go-get-em look in Kostya’s eyes. It still felt somewhat condescending, but at least it was a friendly sort of condescending. Jack placed the extra recorder in his pocket and turned both of them on.

"Come, I’ll show you to her room," Mr. Waiblingen offered politely, waving a hand toward the lift in the corner.

Once they were inside and heading for the fourth level, Jack decided to start the conversation. Jack prided himself on his interviewing method. Instead of a cold, uncomfortable interrogation, he preferred to gently bring his subjects into a friendly conversation, to make them feel at ease. He found that most people were more eager to give information that way, and he had often gotten crucial details out of witnesses during cross-questioning that other officers had failed to get simply because their methods made people nervous. He smiled warmly at the man in front of him. "So, Mr. Waiblingen, are you a close relative of Ms. Stille?"

"Call me Karl," he said, returning the smile, "Everyone calls me Karl. My surname is only for official documents, and means nothing to me. You’ll find Hespah’s the same way. If you call her Ms. Stille, she’s likely not to even answer to it. Just call her Hespah."

"Thank you, Karl. I’ll keep that in mind."

"Of course. As for my relationship to Hespah . . . well, you could say I manage her estate and take care of various business and legal issues for her."

"You’re her lawyer?"

"Yes, that would be accurate." He cast a sidelong glance at Jack and continued, "I’ve been with her for a very long time. She’s like an older sister to me. So I apologize if I seem a bit over-protective."

"It’s understandable," Jack assured him as they stepped out of the lift and began walking down the corridor.

"She recently had a visit from a very dangerous person, as you know. That is why I am here today. That person should never have been allowed in."

Jack perked up. "What do you know about the woman who goes by Nadina Jones?"

Karl smirked slightly. "Nadina is her real name. The Jones, like my Waiblingen, is irrelevant."

Jack nodded thoughtfully. He got the feeling that these were strange people he was dealing with.

"Well, here we are. I shall go in first, to prepare her. I’ll call you in when she’s ready." Karl entered the room, leaving the door open. Jack obediently waited in the doorway. He heard some low murmuring, but couldn’t make out what was being said, or even if they were speaking a language he could understand. Then he heard Karl call out to him. "Please come in, inspector. We are ready for you."

Jack stepped into the room and looked around. Two small armchairs had been arranged beside the bed. Karl sat in one, and gestured for Jack to take the other seat. In the bed was a very heavily-bandaged woman. Her entire face was wrapped in gauze bandages, and at the very top of her head he could see a short, uneven growth of bright red hair sticking out in all directions. It was such a brilliant red color that it couldn’t possibly be natural, but he had trouble imagining the nurses here unwrapping her bandages so that they could dye it. Her eyes, though uncovered, were so swollen and bruised from her recent surgery that they could barely open, but through the slits he could just barely catch a glimpse of green. Her mouth, too, had been uncovered, but it also looked rather badly bruised, so that he almost felt guilty for having to question her. Obviously it would be painful to speak with that mouth.

Jack introduced himself to the woman, remembering Karl’s tip and addressing her as "Hespah" instead of "Ms. Stille," and briefly explained the reason behind his visit before he began the interview.

She didn’t seem to have much to say about Nadina Jones. Several questions were answered with a mere grunt or a shrug. What answers she did give were short, and not at all helpful.

"Please, Hespah," Jack insisted, leaning forward in his chair. "If you know anything– anything at all– it could help us save that little boy’s life."

To Jack’s complete shock, the woman in the bandages laughed. Bewildered by this reaction, he looked to Karl, but he also seemed to be suppressing a snicker.

Hespah recovered herself and somehow managed to flash Jack a pitying look through her swollen eyelids. "That boy is in the safest place he could possibly be," she declared. "As long as he’s with Nadina, no one can touch him."

Karl nodded. "It’s true," he said. "As much as I dislike that woman, and as dangerous as she is . . . I know she would do anything to protect that child."

Jack wasn’t sure how to counter that statement. "Well . . ." He blinked, thinking fast. "Well, I’m very glad to hear that. We are all very worried about him. His father especially. Surely you agree that, no matter how safe he is with, ah, Nadina . . . It would be best to return him to his family." Jack took note of the quiet, mysterious smirks on both of their faces before he continued, "Please, if you know anything about this woman, we need your cooperation."

Hespah grunted.  "I don't know where she's going."

"Do you know why she took him?"

Karl shrugged.  "Because she loves him, and he was not in a safe place."  He said it as if it were the obvious answer to a stupid question.

Jack was getting frustrated.  Most of his questions had gone unanswered, and those few answers he got only bred more questions.  "If she loves him so much, then why would she murder his mother?"

Hespah answered.  "For neglecting him, for putting him in danger."

"And his mother's boyfriend?"

Karl's eyes narrowed.  "The man was beating him," he explained, his voice suddenly cold and hard.  "I probably would have killed him too, if it were my . . . loved one."  He and Hespah exchanged a look, and Karl dropped his gaze to the floor.

Jack thought of the boy's mother, of the bruises and scars that had covered her body.  And the way the boyfriend had been killed, so much more painful and cruel than the mother's death.  It was vengeance . . .  But again, that bred another question.

"None of the family's acquaintance seemed to know anyone meeting Nadina's description.  But you say she loves the boy.  How does she know him?"

Again, Karl and Hespah looked at each other, but this time neither of them said anything.  Hespah grunted and shook her head.  Karl shrugged.  Both looked somewhat uncomfortable.

Very well.  He obviously wouldn't get that answer today.  "Do you know why she came here?  What did she need from you?"

Hespah sighed. "She asked me for help," she said. "Don’t know why. We’re not friends."

"She must have been very desperate," Karl added, "She and Hespah have always avoided each other, and she knows Hespah has hated her for . . . a long time."

Hespah shrugged. "I couldn’t help her. Just wished her luck. That’s all. I have no clue where she is now, or what she'll do next."

Jack frowned. "If you’ve always hated her, why would you wish her luck?"

Karl answered for her. "You don’t have to like someone to sympathize with their situation," he explained. "I think we’ve told you everything we can. I’ll walk you back to the lobby."

Jack didn’t argue. It was obvious these two were hiding something, but it was also very clear that he wouldn’t get any more information out of either of them today.

When they were back in the lift, Karl turned to him. "Inspector," he said quietly, "You seem like a good man. I want to give you some advice."

Jack looked at him warily.

"Some mysteries are best left unsolved. You’d do well to get yourself off of this case. Go home before you end up too deeply involved in things you won’t understand."

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but he didn’t know what to say to that. The man’s words sounded almost threatening, but the tone he used was genuine. He seemed to be sincerely warning him out of kindness, or pity.

But it didn’t work. As they parted ways outside the lift, Jack felt a new resolve building up inside him. There was a lot more going on here than this one murder and kidnapping incident. He was determined to figure out just how all these people were connected, and exactly what it was that they were hiding.