The Missing Forty Seconds
By Richard Hardenburg
British Salmoa Times Correspondent – Bureau, Istanbul, Turkey
Seeing Dr. Marino placed under “house arrest” by a Turkish intelligence agency left me deeply unsettled. I suspect Agent Demir wanted me to feel that way—to prompt me to do something revealing. After all, he had no reason to restrict my movements, yet he made sure I understood that I had not been ruled out completely. Hence, he suggested I remain in Istanbul, under the pretext of offering moral support to my countrymen. His reasoning seemed sound enough, but I was not entirely convinced.
At the hotel lobby, I left a message for Agent Demir stating that I intended to have lunch at Pepo Restaurant, a well-reviewed steakhouse. During lunch, I found myself more preoccupied with glancing over my shoulder for a hotel messenger than enjoying my meal.
The walk back to the hotel seemed interminable. However, as I was about to enter the elevator, I heard a voice calling my name.
“Mr. Hardenburg, Agent Demir summons you. There are new developments.”
As we walked together, he added, “He is waiting in the hotel’s security office.”
As I entered the office, Agent Demir exclaimed, “Ah, Hardenburg! What a find! My enthusiasm might seem insensitive to you, but we’ve made remarkable progress!” Then, beckoning me closer with his index finger, he added, “Come, let me show you something.”
On the computer screen before him was a document labeled KLASSIFIZIERT.
“Let me introduce you to your waitress.”
The file was written in German and depicted a photograph of a young woman in her early twenties, with high cheekbones and deep blue eyes. Her hair was short and red—practical, as if she were a soldier.
“Meet Helga Sophie Dittmer,” he said, “an agent from the Bundesamt für Strategische Operationen—the BSO.” Then, tapping the photo, he noted, “She does not look like that—that’s her academy picture.” He continued, “Her dossier says she’s forty-two and was born in Dresden.”
He paused, turned his gaze from the screen to meet mine, then looked back before continuing to read aloud.
“Her specialties include: clandestine operations, counterintelligence, tactical planning, interrogation resistance, tradecraft, explosives, and small arms.”
I was speechless, and he continued.“Current status: Rogue/AWOL. She is credited with the assassination of President [REDACTED] of the Republic of [REDACTED]... warlords... traffickers... and... the list is endless.”
“How can you assert that our waitress is this... assassin?”
“Biometrics,” he said, and continued, “Of course, we are not one hundred percent sure—it’s more like eighty, according to our analyst.” Then he nodded. “I am sure it’s her, one hundred percent. You do not see any resemblance between your waitress and Helga because she is an artist of disguises—it’s part of the trade!”
He concluded, in a tone of victorious self-confidence, “The boys from Crime would have never got this far!”
“Why is she so interested in Steve Williams? His story is in the public domain.”
“Good point. We do not have that answer yet.”
“Does this new finding clear Dr. Marino?”
“It does...” He waved his hand as if to hold back my racing thoughts. “The security footage will show you what normally goes unnoticed—even by the trained eye.”
What I was preparing myself to see next filled me with an inexplicable rush of panic and thrill.
“Look at Camera 2—from the hallway, facing the restaurant,” he said, pointing at the video. “I have been studying these videos all night.”
“Can I take notes?”
“Yes! You can publish your article, but wait—we still do not know if Helga is a threat.” And, gazing into my eyes, he said, “Keep a close look at the timestamps.”
CAM Lobby–2
00:10:23 – The waitress approaches a table next to a window where Steve, Dr. Marino, and I are seated. She makes a polite reverence and leaves.
00:10:42 – Steve gets up and leaves. CAM 5 picks him up in the lobby, waiting for the elevator.
00:10:47 – I get up and leave the restaurant. CAM 5 records me entering the lobby restroom.
00:11:05 – Dr. Marino is still in the restaurant.
ELV2–CAM1
00:10:52 – Steve enters the elevator, joining a cleaning service lady.
00:11:07 – Steve leaves the elevator on the second floor, turning left from the camera’s angle.
00:11:12 – The elevator door closes, and the cleaning lady continues.
00:11:42 – The cleaning service lady leaves the elevator on the third floor.
Agent Demir paused the videos. “The cleaning lady is never seen on the third floor. There is no recording on CAM 3... a full twenty seconds are missing! It is Helga!”
“She must have taken the service stairs to Steve’s room,” I noted.
“Exactly! Watch on.”
CAM 2–E Corridor
00:11:08 – Steve exits the elevator, walks to his room, uses the security key, and enters.
CAM Lobby–2
00:14:01 – Dr. Marino can be seen at the restaurant. I leave the restroom and walk toward the elevator, taking Elevator 1. Nothing extraordinary: I exit on floor 2 and go into my room, a few doors from Steve’s.
00:23:10 – Dr. Marino is seen picking up something from the table and exiting the restaurant, walking across the lobby and taking Elevator 3.
CAM 2–E Corridor
00:23:40 – Dr. Marino exits the elevator and walks in the direction of Steve’s room. The spectacles are clearly visible in his left hand.
00:23:47 – Dr. Marino is seen stopped at the door, back side to the camera. His left hand, holding the glasses, pushes the door open gently. He enters abruptly. The door remains wide open.
00:23:57 – Dr. Marino leaves the room frantically, running in horror to room 305—my room. He pounds on the door.
00:24:03 – I grab Dr. Marino by the arm and drag him into Steve’s room. A door from room 310 opens momentarily, then closes quickly.
00:24:12 – Dr. Marino is seen leaving the room, running toward the stairs.
“All cameras are missing forty seconds after Marino leaves Steve’s room,” Agent Demir noted. “I believe Helga executed her next move. I suspect she was still in the room while you were assisting Steve.”
A chill ran down my spine. I was in the bosom of a viper—and lived to tell the story.
“This clears Dr. Marino!” I said, visibly affected by the events before my eyes.
“Yes, indeed!” As he said that, his mobile rang, and he answered in Turkish.
“Steve has woken.” I could not avoid feeling joy for my countryman.
“He seems out of danger. We’ll take Marino along with us. You are not out of danger yet! We do not know where Helga is.”
Editor’s Note
Mr. Hardenburg’s latest dispatch from Istanbul reaches us amid developments still under official investigation. His report stands as submitted, pending confirmation from Turkish authorities.
Postscript by Richard Hardenburg
In recounting these events, I have begun to sense that my role as observer has grown perilously thin. The boundaries between witness and participant, between the recorded and the lived, have blurred. One writes to make sense of disorder—to impose reason upon what resists it—but in doing so, one risks becoming part of the very intrigue one seeks to understand.
For now, I remain in Istanbul, awaiting clearance to travel. Whether by design or circumstance, the story seems determined to inhabit me as completely as I inhabit it.
Comments
Post a Comment