The impressive glass and steel facade of the Van Gelyk Foundation loomed over the scant pedestrians that scurried about the manicured landscape surrounding the building. Sheriff Sam let out a soft whistle as his eyes traced the metal work of the five-story modern building. It shimmered in the afternoon light, the bronzed glass reflecting a sepia mirage of the tranquil garden and cloud-flecked sky. The lobby, accessed through impressively large glass doors cut into the side of the bronzed facade, was decorated in neutral tones. Warm sandstone floors were accentuated with rich grained wood and neutral color accents, bathed in the sepia hued natural light that filtered through the bronzed glass. It was a display of understated opulence, masked in a soft and welcoming color palette. A bank of monitors covered a wall surrounded by a small seating area of plush wingback chairs, displaying looped feed of the various services offered by the institute. As the sheriff and detective paused to look at the feed, a woman approached, wearing a simple beige A-line dress that ended on the knee, buttoned down the front, and flat soled shoes, her hair pulled back in a severe bun. She had the appearance of an old-fashioned nurse.

"Hello. You must be Sheriff Samuel Ingle and Det. Nina West. Welcome to the Van Gelyk Foundation. Mr. Marais is expecting you. If you'll follow me, please," she said politely. Sheriff Sam noted the unusual pronunciation of the words. Instead of saying 'van', she pronounced it more like 'fun'. The 'g' was a very guttural sound, almost as if she was trying to clear something from her throat, and 'lyk' was pronounced 'lake'. The end of 'Marais' was also pronounced differently - closer to 'rare', with no sound of the 's'. It definitely sounded German or Dutch. Anya had mentioned her attackers were possibly speaking Dutch.

"Your pronunciation is unique. What language is that?" Sheriff Sam asked as they followed the woman through the vast lobby. "Is it German or Dutch, perhaps?" He vaguely remembered Det. West telling him that the words were Afrikaans, but it would be interesting to see if the woman confirmed or denied this.

She smiled patiently at the sheriff as they walked. "Neither actually. It is Afrikaans - one of the languages spoken in South Africa. Although, it originates from the Dutch language, and is remarkably similar in pronunciation. In fact, the Dutch can understand Afrikaans without too much difficulty and visa versa."

Sheriff Sam glanced at Det. West. She had her eyebrow raised questioningly. He wondered if she was also trying to piece this fact into their ever-growing puzzle. A Russian mafia princess, hiding from her past. A cache of illegal Russian weapons. An African refugee responsible for unspeakable atrocities. Thirteen headless bodies, some with ties to an institute that had at least some affiliation with South Africa. It painted an obscure and possibly obscene picture, but somehow Sheriff Sam was certain that the pieces were starting to fit, the image they would uncover slowly coming into focus. He was certain that somehow this all involved an illegal weapons smuggling syndicate, funneling cold-war era weapons from Russia to Africa. But the thirteen bodies did not fit nicely into that narrative. Nor did the abduction and assault of Anya Cook and possibly Jeremiah Omondi, who was still missing.

Jonas Marais was on the telephone when they entered the room, but he motioned for the sheriff and detective to come in and take a seat, smiling broadly at them from behind his tortoise-shell rimmed glasses, then nodded his thanks at their escort as she turned to leave the room. He was of average height and build, with a slight paunch around his middle, greying hair, and a friendly, relaxed demeanor. He politely ended his call and turned his charismatic gaze upon the sheriff and detective, enthusiastically extending his hand to shake theirs in turn as he introduced himself.

"What can I do for you today?" he enquired as he took a seat on the chair opposite them. "I must say that I was a little shocked when my secretary told me that the Van Gelyk Foundation had popped up in one of your investigations and you needed to ask me a few questions. But no matter. Whatever I can do to help..." 

When Det. West had scheduled the appointment with Mr. Marais, she had purposefully been obtuse in her description of the facts. Oftentimes, it was beneficial to say as little possible and see where the investigation led. Sometimes new facts would come to light that otherwise would have been missed if the investigation had been steered down too rigid a path. And often, guilty parties would implicate themselves, offering too much information or confirming facts that the detectives had deliberately left out. In this particular case, with only the eyewitness statement of a woman who was most likely drugged at the time and some insubstantial associations to some of the victims, both the sheriff and detective were hoping that Mr. Marais would implicate himself or his foundation.

"Mr. Marais, we're investigating a number of, uh, missing persons and they may have been patrons or clients of your foundation," Sheriff Sam stated, avoiding any direct association to their probable murder and beheading, offering up a list of the seven victims who had liked the institution on their social media, as well as the name of Anya Cook.

"Please, call me Jonas," he offered as he took the list from the sheriff and inspected the names. "I don't recognize any of them but let me check on our system for you."

Jonas turned his attention to his computer screen and began typing in the names. His relaxed demeanor tensed slightly as he typed in the names. "I don't know what to tell you, Sheriff. I see they liked or followed us on social media. All, except Anya Cook. Sarah Haynes is on my system. She was receiving treatment at our sleep therapy clinic. Beyond that, I don't see any of them in our outpatient treatment lists, but it is possible that they were walk-ins for the meditation classes or yoga. We have open classes every weekend out in the garden, and anyone is welcome to join. I can schedule a meeting with those instructors for you. Perhaps they will be able to help."

"Please do. I would also like all your records related to Sarah Haynes. You can email those to my office. Also, do you have any grey vans with tinted windows? A witness identified your logo on the back of a van seen at a crime scene," Sheriff Sam prodded, trying not to divulge too much information, wanting to see where the answer would lead.

Jonas Marais shook his head in the negative, then paused, looking up at the sheriff, his face draining of color. "It can't be. We used to do some charity work with the elderly, delivering food and care packages long ago. We stopped after our van was stolen, and the insurance refused to pay out. The driver had left the van open with the keys in the ignition while he carried the packages into the care facility. When he came out, the van was gone. The insurance stated the driver hadn't ensured that reasonable care was taken to secure the vehicle and refuted the claim. At the time, we didn't have funding to replace the vehicle and so we cancelled the charity initiative. But that was a good few years ago. We reported it, but they never found the van. I haven't had sight or sound of that van since then."

"Sorry to be so blunt, Jonas, but from the look of your offices, funding to replace a van shouldn't be a problem."

"Ah, well, yes. It's not a problem now, but a few years ago we were barely making the rent for a small, shoddy meditation studio above a Chinese take-out in the main street. The Foundation comes from very humble beginnings! If you don't mind a quick history lesson..." Jonas Marais stated, assessing the sheriff and detective before continuing. 

"Years ago, when I was still a young man and full of life, living in South Africa, I fell in love with the Buddhist philosophy after visiting the Nan Hua Temple in Bronkhorstpruit. I studied meditation with the monks there for years before exploring the middle east in search of enlightenment. I spent many years learning about alternative healing, meditation, yoga, crystal healing, everything I could, before deciding to start a company helping people to heal from their traumas through those various channels. 

"One thing I was passionate about was charity work though, so every extra cent I had went into funding various charities or carrying out charitable work. To my own detriment, I am afraid. I was broke, over-committed and over-extended. I put my company on the market in a last-ditch attempt to make a little cash. Schweizer-Reneke Industries bought me over, but kept me on as the Director, given my expertise. They pumped a huge amount of capital into the business, built this office complex, and added additional services and revenue streams. They turned it into the viable operation that it is today."

After some more discussion and a brief tour of the facilities the sheriff and detective took their leave, certain that they had gained as much information as possible from the conversation. The original reports from the vehicle theft might offer a clue or two. And they needed to dig a bit deeper into the foundations financial records and that of Schweizer-Reneke Industries. SR, Sheriff Sam mused, as he climbed into his patrol vehicle, wondering if it related to the hastily scribbled note in the mayor's diary.