“By giving you our word that captain Griessel and I will not divulge any speculative information, unless third parties are mutually agreed upon.”
“Does that include your colleagues at the Directorate of Priority Crime Investigation?”
“It does.”
Graber knik liggies. “Has this ‘Morris’ committed a crime?”
“No.”
“Has he been the victim of a crime?”
“Do you know who he is?”
“We have a very strong suspicion.”
“How?”
“The photograph.”
“He resembles someone your government is looking for?”
“He does indeed. Is he the victim of a crime?”
“He is.”
“A serious crime?”
“Yes.”
“Has he been killed?”
“Who?” Nyathi glimlag weer, asof hy dit regtig geniet.
“Paul Anthony Morris.”
“Is that his real name?”
“No.”
“Who do you think he is?”
“Has he been killed?”
“No.”
“Is he in your custody?”
“No.”
Dit laat haar stilbly. Haar gesig is uitdrukkingloos, maar Griessel kan sien die ratte draai.
“Who do you think he is?” vra Nyathi.
“Do you know where he is at the moment?”
Nyathi swyg.
“Has he been kidnapped?” vra Graber.
“Who is he?” vra Nyathi.
“Colonel, I really need to know if he has been kidnapped.”
“We really need to know who he is.”
Sy kyk na die foto van koningin Elizabeth teen die muur, dan terug na Nyathi. “We think he is David Patrick Adair.”
Griessel haal sy notaboek uit en begin skryf.
“Why are you so concerned about mister Adair?” vra Nyathi.
“Has he been kidnapped?”
“Yes,” sê Nyathi. “All evidence points in that direction.”
“Shit,” sê Emma Graber met die mond wat vir Griessel so mooi is.
* * *
Sy vra hulle om haar net ’n minuut lank te verskoon.
Hulle staan op toe sy uitgaan, gaan sit sodra sy die deur agter haar toegemaak het.
Griessel kyk na Nyathi. Die kolonel swaai sy wysvinger dak toe, dan in die rondte, plaas dit eindelik voor sy mond.
Griessel knik. Hy verstaan. Bes moontlik meeluistering.
Vreemde wêreld dié. Hy wonder wat Nyathi se rol in Umkhonto was. En wat Emma Graber se pos by die konsulaat is. Hy vermoed haar belangstelling is nie krimineel van aard nie, maar polities. Hy wonder wie David Patrick Adair is, en waarom Graber so versigtig – maar gretig – is. En wat sy nou gaan doen het. Koukus met die konsul-generaal? Of met iemand anders wat dalk in ’n aangrensende kantoor geluister het na die gesprek? Of sit sy nou ook en luister, in die hoop dat hy en Nyathi aan die praat sal raak?
Asof dié saak verdere komplikasies nodig het.
Dit duur sewe minute voor sy terugkom. “I do apologise,” sê sy, en gaan sit. “Now, gentlemen, if you Google the name ‘David Patrick Adair’ you will eventually establish that a man by that name is a King’s Fellow in Computer Sciences at Cambridge University, and Professor at DAMTP, the Department of Applied Mathematics and Theoretical Physics, at the same institution. The DAMTP website will furthermore show a photograph of Adair which is almost identical to the one in the counterfeit passport.”
Daar is ’n subtiele verandering in haar houding, ’n saaklikheid, groter dringendheid.
“Last week Tuesday, professor Adair failed to deliver his usual lecture at the Department. Because of his varied commitments and hectic schedule, this in itself isn’t unusual. But he has never failed to let his personal assistant know about such an absence before. She reported this to one of his senior colleagues. Upon investigation by this colleague, it was finally established that there had been a burglary at Adair’s house in Glisson Road in central Cambridge. A back door was forced and the interior left in complete disarray. Adair was nowhere to be found. Given the sensitive nature of his work, this colleague had the good sense to notify the right authorities, thereby keeping the matter contained …”
“So it was never logged in Merlin,” sê Nyathi.
“That is correct,” antwoord sy sonder ’n sweem van berou.
“What is the nature of his work?” vra Nyathi.
“Therein, colonel, lies the rub.”
13
“For starters, you should know that Adair has been divorced for nine years. He is completely estranged from his ex-wife. The marriage was childless. His next-of-kin is his younger sister, Sarah, a lecturer at the School of Mathematics at the University of Birmingham. By all accounts she is an extremely competent academic, but alas, not quite the genius her brother is. We have made highly discreet inquiries as to her knowledge of her brother’s whereabouts, and it is clear that she has not heard from him since his disappearance. In other words, there is no need for you to contact her.”
“Ah,” sê Nyathi. “I’m assuming that you have also been … monitoring her communication channels since last Tuesday?”
“We are positive that no attempt has been made to communicate with her about her brother since that time.”
“May I ask to which ‘we’ you are referring?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You said ‘we are sure’ …” sê Nyathi geduldig.
“The British authorities,” sê sy, nou self met ’n ironiese glimlag.
“And the nature of professor Adair’s work?”
Sy knik. “Now please bear with me, because this gets a little complicated. But I want to get it right, not least so that you will also understand the great need for circumspection in this matter.”
“Please,” sê Nyathi.
Griessel sê niks, maar luister net.
“An internet search of his name will eventually lead you to the good professor’s responsibility for the so-called Adair Algorithm. To save time, and to enunciate the necessity for discretion, I would like to explain what that is. Have you heard of the Society for Worldwide Interbank Financial Telecommunication, or SWIFT?”
“Vaguely.”
“Very well. Please allow me to elaborate: SWIFT is based in Belgium. It is a network which enables financial institutions across the globe to send and receive information about monetary transactions. Your bank, for instance, would have a SWIFT code which is part of this system. Should you receive money from abroad, this code is used, and the information about the transaction is registered on SWIFT’s computers. Simple stuff, is it not?”
Hulle knik in gelid.
“Now, shortly after 9/11 the CIA and the US State Department set up the top secret and pretty controversial