In Cofeina Veritas!

Another morning, the same apartment, another coffee, the same telephone. “Yes, please!” “Boss, it’s me, Cezar. We have received a homonymous call at the station about a kidnapping.” “Anonymous, Cezar, anonymous.” “Right. Can you come? I think it’s important.” I’m living a déjà vu. I am in no way excited about the situation and, even more, the heat outside turns me into a real spring, flooding the shirt hidden under my coat. But I cannot leave without it, because I would look like used toilet paper. Sometimes, I totally lack any interest in the way I’m dressed. The articles of clothing covering my nudity don’t excite me one bit. I just love the tribes where they have only one robe, a bunch of reeds wrapped around the crotch. Unfortunately, society would classify me as being stuck somewhere on the evolutionary scale between a chimpanzee and a quince if I were to adopt that costume, and I don’t even want to begin to think about the rash caused by that particular theca. So I conform, not without militating for naturalness with every opportunity occurred, especially for the feminine one. I reach the headquarters. I sneak through people to my office, deliberately ignoring all greetings and congratulations from my coworkers. After all this time, they still haven’t got used to the fact that I don’t care. There, Cezar serves me at the entrance with a large feed of information. “Boss, the anonymous called earlier and he said that he has the son of … let me look it up, I wrote down what he said … yes, here!” He slips under my eyes a piece of paper where several short sentences were written in an intelligible manner. “Today we picked up Marius Badea from the train station in Craiova. You will also receive confirmation that we have it, as well as details on the ransom. It is recommended that you cooperate in order to avoid any inconvenience.” “Good … so far, we only have a ‘homonymous’ information. Tell me something about this lad. I suppose you have already done some research.” “Well, boss, I searched a bit, and here it says that he’s the son of Mihai Badea, owner of some night clubs in Craiova, and he also owns shares at some oil platfonts in the Persian Gulf, which he sells directly to the large fuel manufacturers in Europe.” “Platforms, kid, platforms. Interesting but senseless … In the first phase, it seems like a classic job. The man has money. Others don’t have but want it, and look at the solution they’ve found.” “I’ll go notify the colleagues. Let’s see who might help us with this investigation.” “Don’t hurry to notify them. Wait until we get in touch with his relatives. Depending on what they decide, we hand over the case or we solve it quietly.” The reasons of my suggestion are simple and harmless: the telephone where they called was a direct line, whereas the other calls went through the dispatch and then redirected to us, and if “papa” is loaded with money but doesn`t appear in the newspapers at all, this means he’s searching for maximum discretion. “I got it. I’ll try to localize the phone call.” “How haven’t I thought of that, Cezar? Most definitely they called me from Grandma’s house and they’re now preparing a cake, so when we tear down the door with the ram, they greet us with cheers. They’ve used a mobile prepaid card and thrown it away afterwards” “How do you know?” “Before I joined law enforcement I was a professional kidnapper, but I had to quit because during the same period I was taking ballet lessons and the schedules overlapped.” Already, in my mind arise the first questions. A kidnapping in Craiova and they call the capital? And why have the kidnappers called us directly? They probably knew the police would be called and wanted to get a jump start, but why the number in my office? They seem clever enough. Why did they take this young boy? People with money can be found in all corners. And why does this Badea guy have nightclubs when he’s bringing him barrels of money from oil? And, after all, who is this Mihai Badea? A tearing pain strikes the back of my head. The “rag” on the desk rang exactly like the one at home. Oh, how I hate this sound! Cezar answers like a secretary who sleeps with her boss and she knows that she won’t be fired, no matter what. “The National Inspectorate of Forensics, Cezar speaking. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?” I am such an idiot! That’s why the name sounds familiar! And my thoughts begin to find tongue. “Dip me in chocolate, kid, and feed me to the lesbians!” “Boss?” “This Badea guy called me the other day to help him find his mutt …” “… yes, it’s all right, he will contact you. Have a nice day. What, boss?” “Nothing. Prepare some supplies for me. I’m leaving for Craiova. Actually, no … you’re coming with me. We leave on the first train!” “Well, boss, I … I mean, I must get packed …” “Nonsense, child! We will get aboard the iron horse with nothing else. It’s just a courtesy visit!” “But …” “You convinced me, we’re packing. After I knock the kid into shape, I call Badea senior to break down the news, in case he hasn’t heard already … “Mister Badea?” “Yes, who is it?” “Mister Badea Mihai?” “Yes, it is me, who am I speaking to?” “Settle down, get something hard to sit on if you are weak of heart. I have decided to help you. This is Dan, Demetriad Dan. You called me a few days ago about your mutt … about your dog …” “So you accept, you’ll search for my dog? Or what … you got me confused …” “Well, until we get to the dog, we still need to find something else … you haven’t received any suspicious phone calls?”