Page 67 of Johan. (Van Den Bosch #8)
Johan
As the private jet touches down at a secluded terminal of Heathrow Airport, a mix of emotions churns inside me.
The jet glides smoothly along the tarmac, coming to a gentle stop near an exclusive private hangar, far from the hustle and bustle of the main terminals.
It’s been over a month since I left again for the Arabian Peninsula, and the journey back feels both like a return to normalcy and the prelude to upheaval.
My colleagues—Angela, Amelia, Rachid, and Lukas—are with me, each lost in their own thoughts.
The stakes of our meeting with the Cambridge Council couldn’t be higher.
The cabin door opens, and we descend the steps onto the tarmac, greeted by a crisp, cool English morning.
A team of ground staff is already waiting, their demeanor professional and efficient.
They quickly handle our luggage, allowing us to move seamlessly from the plane to a waiting Mercedes-Benz van.
At the same time, a truck begins to be loaded with the cargo from the aircraft that will then go to Cambridge.
Rachid, ever the meticulous organizer, ensures everything is in order before we are driven away.
The van glides smoothly through the airport’s private roads, bypassing the busy public terminals and the throngs of travelers.
We exit the airport grounds and merge onto the M25, heading towards Cambridge.
My heartbeat brisks up as the reality of being back sinks in.
This is it. In just under two hours, the most important meeting of my life will begin.
As we leave the urban sprawl behind, the scenery changes to the rolling countryside of Cambridgeshire.
The sight of green fields and quaint villages brings a sense of calm, but the tension in the van is palpable.
Angela, usually chatty, is uncharacteristically quiet, her gaze fixed on the passing landscape.
Amelia, sitting next to her, occasionally glances at me, her eyes reflecting a mixture of anxiety and determination.
Lukas, my diligent assistant, is busy organizing our documents and ensuring everything is in order.
Rachid, ever composed, reviews his notes, his expression unreadable.
We finally enter the historic town of Cambridge.
The narrow, cobbled streets are bustling with students and faculty, bicycles weaving in and out of pedestrian traffic.
I take a deep breath, feeling a tad nostalgic to be back.
The city holds so many memories, both bitter and sweet.
I can't help but think of Astrid—her manipulative ways, her father's shadow over every aspect of our forced engagement. Today, after this council meeting, I will finally be able to break free from her. With Ludovic’s downfall, Astrid’s influence and power will crumble.
She'll no longer have that hold over me. The thought brings a surge of relief and a pang of anxiety. And then there’s Hannah.
Memories of her gentle smile, kind eyes, and the warmth she radiates flood my mind.
Hannah, who I should have been with all along, suffered just as much as I did.
Today, I’ll make things right with her, too.
The thought of seeing her again fills me with a mix of hope and nervousness.
The ancient spires of King’s College Chapel come into view, their stone facades glowing in the morning sunlight. The van navigates through the maze of streets, finally stopping near King’s Parade, as close to the Senate House as the driver can get.
We step out, the cool air of Cambridge biting slightly at my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the Middle East. I glance around at my team.
Angela's expression is resolute, her eyes reflecting determination.
Amelia appears composed yet wary, her past trauma subtly etched in her features.
Rachid maintains his usual calm, his eyes scanning our surroundings with practiced vigilance.
Lukas, ever the diligent assistant, holds a folder tightly, his face a mask of focused anticipation.
Dean Pembroke, flanked by two colleagues, stands at the bottom of the steps of the Senate House, waiting for us. The dean’s presence, with his characteristic gravitas, immediately commands respect. I approach him first, extending my hand.
“Welcome back, Mr. Bentinck,” he says, shaking my hand in turn.
His grip is firm, his eyes reflecting both concern and anticipation.
“I hope you had a pleasant flight.” When he sees Amelia standing beside me, his expression softens.
“Professor van Wassenaer, it's good to see you back. You've been missed.”
Amelia smiles, a hint of relief in her eyes.
“Thank you, Dean Pembroke,” she responds, before gesturing to the rest of our team.
“Allow me to introduce my colleagues. This is Dr. Angela Thompson, our chief researcher; Mr. Rachid, the representative from the Omani government; and Lukas Bennett, Johan’s indispensable assistant. ”
The dean nods to each in turn, his expression warm yet serious. “It's a pleasure to meet you all. Shall we? Everyone’s already waiting for you inside.”
We follow the dean up the steps and through the grand entrance of the Senate House.
The building’s historic charm is evident in every detail, from the intricate carvings on the door frames to the echoing marble floors.
The hallways are lined with portraits of distinguished alumni, their eyes seeming to follow us as we walk past. It's a silent reminder of the legacy we are a part of and the gravity of our mission today.
The dean leads us to the grand council chamber, the heart of the university’s decision-making.
A large mahogany table anchors the room, where the council members are already seated, their expressions a blend of curiosity and seriousness.
At the table sits Sir Gregory, the head of the council; Professor Andersson, my immediate superior and head of the Archaeological Department; Dr. Eleanor Hargrove, a renowned historian; and Mr. James Llewellyn, the university’s legal advisor.
Their combined presence underscores the gravity of the situation.
Sir Gregory gestures for us to take our seats. “Welcome back, everyone. We’ve been eagerly awaiting your return.”
We take our seats, and I place the Star of Ubar on the table with the reverence it deserves.
The artifact’s intricate carvings catch the light, and a collective murmur ripples through the room.
The Star’s presence is a testament to our work, but it’s also a symbol of the darker truths we’ve uncovered.
Sir Gregory’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight of the artifact. “Is that…?”
“Yes,” I confirm, my voice steady. “This is the Star of Ubar, one of our most significant findings. But there's more we need to discuss.”
The room falls silent, the weight of the moment palpable. I take a deep breath and begin. “We uncovered something unexpected during our expedition, and it involves Ludovic, our main sponsor.”
Dean Pembroke leans forward, nodding at me. “Go on. They need to know.”
I exchange a glance with Angela, who nods encouragingly. “Ludovic has been stealing artifacts and selling them to an underground broker known as Loki in London.”
The reaction is immediate. Shocked gasps and murmurs fill the room. Sir Gregory holds up a hand for silence. “How do you know this, Johan?”
I swallow hard, feeling the eyes of the council bore into me. “I was playing along, pretending to be an accomplice. It was the only way to gather evidence and understand the extent of his operations.”
The council members exchange looks of disbelief and concern. Professor Anderson's face is stern. “That’s a serious accusation, Johan. How come we only know about it now?”
“I knew about it,” Dean Pembroke steps in. “The officials in Oman had asked maximum secrecy until Ludovic leaves the site and comes back to the UK.” Everyone’s stunned, myself included. “The secret services are still following him, waiting for him to leave his hotel and go to meet Loki.”
I nod and introduce Amelia, who steps forward, her presence commanding the room. “This is Amelia. She has been missing for twenty years, kidnapped by Ludovic when she discovered his intentions of stealing artifacts.”
Amelia’s story unfolds slowly, each word heavy with the pain and resilience of her experience. She describes the day Ludovic took her, the years of captivity, and the harrowing moments of escape. The council listens, rapt and horrified, the gravity of the situation sinking in.
When she finishes, the room is silent. Dr. Eleanor Hargrove clears her throat, her voice tinged with respect and sorrow. “Thank you, Amelia. Your bravery is commendable.”
Rachid speaks up, his tone measured but firm. “The Omani government has been made aware of these allegations and is fully prepared to cooperate with the British authorities to bring Ludovic to justice.”
Sir Gregory turns to one of the assistants. “Let’s keep in touch with the authorities. We need to ensure Ludovic is arrested before he has a chance to flee.”
As the meeting draws to a close, I gather my courage and clear my throat. “May I speak to the council alone?" My request hangs in the air, and the council members exchange glances before nodding in agreement.
I turn to my team, offering a tight smile. “Thank you, everyone. You can go ahead. I'll join you shortly.”
Angela gives me a curious look, but she doesn't ask questions. Amelia nods in silent support, and Rachid offers a brief, encouraging smile. Lukas, always attentive, hesitates for a moment before gathering his things and leaving with the rest.
The heavy wooden door closes behind them, and I am left standing alone before the council. The room feels larger now, more imposing. I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of my next words pressing heavily on my shoulders.