Cooper sat in the office of Bradadt Mining Inspection Company, in Woodstown, New Jersey. A secretary typed in the corner as he listened to Dr. Michaels, a bald-headed man verging on the obese, who’d been Dr. Foster’s boss for the past two years.
The large wood and leather studded desk Dr. Michaels sat at was empty, apart from a salad and a family size packet of Oreos. Cooper sat trying to work out if Michaels had food inside his cheek, or if he was just afflicted with excess salvia, causing the bubbling build-up at one side of his mouth.
‘It came as a shock to all of us but then, none of us knows what goes on behind closed doors, do they? You think you know your neighbor and what they’re like, but then they turn out to be a mass murderer.’
Cooper raised his eyebrows and wondered if the man was talking from experience. Michaels, picking up on his curiosity was overly enthusiastic.
‘You want to know if it’s true or not, don’t you? I can tell. You’re sitting wondering if I lived next door to a killer aren’t you?’
It’d been only a fleeting thought. And as such, he was only able to rouse a casual reply. Casual with zero enthusiasm. ‘It crossed my mind.’
Sheer joy came into Dr. Michael’s face. He clicked his large chubby fingers, pointing at Cooper. ‘I knew it! I knew it! People always wonder. Well the answer is, yes. Yes! And now I bet you’re wondering…’
Cooper cut in. Irritated to hell. And it showed. ‘Actually, Dr. Michaels, I’m not wondering who it was, though of course I’m certainly relived that you escaped the clutches of a killer and lived to tell the tale. However, save the tale for somebody else. I’m not here for that. The reason, as I told you, is to talk about Dr. Foster. Whether you know how true, if at all, the reports in the papers were about him. Or if he spoke much about the DRC to you when he came back.’
Dr. Michaels’s exuberance changed into sullenness. He scowled. Giving his best shot at disapproval. ‘And where did you say you were from again?’
‘I work as a high asset recovery investigator. For Onyx, they’re based in Arizona. We’re investigating a missing plane.’
‘I don’t know what that’s got to do with Foster. The man was no pilot.’
Ignoring his comment, Cooper said, ‘Did he say anything about his trip to the DRC?’
Michaels sneered. ‘You mean did he have a good time?’
‘Not quite.’
‘Look, Mr. Cooper, Dr. Foster and I often didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of matters. He and I were very different people. I run a company which works on profit and loss as well as time considerations.’
‘And you’re saying Foster wasn’t interested in that?’
‘What I’m saying is however noble Foster thought he was by wanting to save the world, it’s actually very irritating if you’ve got a business to run. He should’ve been working for some sort of charity if you ask me.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The man was always wanting to do some good.’
‘It is if that’s not your job. Foster was a mine inspector but he seemed intent on always sniffing out some worthy cause or trying to help the plight of some poverty stricken unfortunate.’
Cooper was lost for words. But Michaels was happy to carry on regardless.
‘Look, it’s clear the pressure of whatever he was doing caught up with him. By all reports he had turned to drink. Apparently he was a heavy drinker as well as a gambler. He was a difficult man.’
Cooper remembered the quote from the papers which Jackson had given him.
‘Where did the papers get that information from, Dr. Michaels?’
‘I have no idea.’
Cooper stared hard. The guy was a jerk. ‘What? You didn’t tell them that? You didn’t say to them he was a difficult man?’
Foster shifted uncomfortably. ‘Well, I… I… I might’ve said a bit. I don’t know. Maybe when the local reporters asked me about him, I might’ve said that I thought he drank, and, perhaps, and this is only a guess, Mr. Cooper, maybe I said he was a difficult man. But I make no apologies for it, the man was a menace.’
‘But you didn’t know for sure if he drank.’
Foster snapped. ‘No, but the man was very furtive, especially when he came back from the DRC. And I’ve read up on it, it’s often a sign of a drinker, and he chose to take his own life. I think it kind of proves my point don’t you?’
‘I’d hardly say that.’
‘I’ve done nothing wrong, Mr. Cooper, it was only my opinion and whatever the papers choose or don’t choose to write, that’s down to them.’
Not for the first time, Cooper rubbed his head. ‘Okay, look, is there anything you can tell me about his trip to the DRC? Did he mention anything about a man called Bemba? Or anything about the mines?’
Michaels, exaggerating his disinterest by looking at his cuticles, sniffed. ‘No and no. Foster was supposed to write a report when he got back, for this company as well as for the International Conference on the Great Lakes Region.’
‘Remind me, please.’
A long heavy sigh came from Michaels. ‘They’re an intergovernmental organization. They represent eleven countries including the DRC. They often subcontract mine certification to us. Anyhow, his report never saw the light of day, and let’s face facts, it’s not like I’m going to get it now, is it? So to answer your question, Mr. Cooper: I can’t help you with anything.’
*
‘Mr. Cooper…! Hold on…! Wait!’
Running across the carpark, a woman waved to Cooper. He allowed her to catch up with him and by the time she did, her face was red and patchy and she spoke breathlessly. ‘Mr. Cooper, I saw you just now, I heard everything Dr. Michaels said to you.’
Cooper smiled, recognizing her as the typist who’d been in Michaels’s office.
‘It’s about Dr. Foster. I was his personal secretary. All the things Dr. Michaels was saying about him are simply not true. He was a good man, Mr. Cooper. A conscientious one. I’m not sure how much I can help you, but I can tell you all that I know. But not here. There’s a coffee shop, Abbotts, it’s two blocks down from here, I can meet you there in half an hour.’