Jonathan Taylor - Meyer-Hofmann AG

“ He gave me no time to answer!” She thought.

Then their eyes met, and she knew. His expression was unchanged. The man showed no emotion; he was a blank. He had no empathy; this was not a game. She was shaking even more now. Shock was starting to set in, and her entire body seemed to be trying to escape its skin.

“Now that I have your attention, Mrs Petersen, I would like an answer to my questions.”

As his tone became more demanding, Britt drew in a deep breath and tried to control herself. Her hand still throbbed so that she dared not move it. She pushed the breath down towards her stomach and held it, while, at the same time, trying to press herself into the chair for support. The lack of a proper seat made this difficult, but she found herself calming down and was able to prepare her lie. But just as she was about to deliver it, her body heaved, her stomach turned, and she erupted. The tea had done its job: she vomited, defecated, then urinated, all involuntarily.

What is happening to me?

She had lost control. Strangely, her main worry was the humiliation.

What must I look like?

She screamed again.

“No…!”

Von Klitzing moved himself swiftly out of the way, allowing the stool to carry him a safe distance from the wretched woman. Experience told him that it would take a few minutes before she was finished. He watched her struggle with her dignity, her face contorting in despair, every ounce of self-respect making a beeline for the drain under her seat. It amused him to watch people reduced to their base form.

They are no better than animals, he thought .

As her stomach spasms finally calmed down, Britt was able to grasp a modicum of self-control. Commanding her body to stop its madness, she fought with herself to show at least a little defiance to the beast sitting opposite her. His eyes hovered over her, relishing her discomfort and pain. She wanted to fight back, to scream her defiance, but fear had the better of her, and she watched as his gaze dropped to the drain. Slowly, he moved back towards her, reaching down towards the grate. She saw an opportunity, and forcing the last dregs from her body, splattered him with all that she had left.

Screaming with anger, the old man jerked back away from her, this time misjudging the stool’s stability as it tilted violently to the left, ejecting him to the ground like a bucking bronco.

A small feeling of satisfaction filled her, watching him haul himself up from the ground, for the first time showing his age, his right arm covered in her shit. Preparing for the next assault, she closed her eyes and braced herself. He stooped towards her, but she felt no impact. Instead, when she opened her eyes, he was standing in front of her with a smug grin on his face, holding a small stained plastic bag in his hand. He now held the first piece of her insurance policy.

The bag contained the USB stick she had hidden earlier in the day, and she watched as he walked calmly to the door, where he passed it to the waiting guard.

“Soon we will know what you know, Mrs Petersen. This is going very well.” He smiled.

Staring at him through disbelieving bloodshot eyes, her mind berated her for being so stupid.

How could he have known? Of course he knew; every novice border guard knows that trick!

After waiting at the door for a while, he returned, pulling something behind him.

This could not be happening; how could he know?

“There are more!” she blurted.

Snot and sick smeared her top lip and chin, and shit was splattered on her legs and feet. The cold water hit her full in the face, as he hosed her down for the second time that day. The water pressure blasted her back into the chair, ripping at her skin like a knife, ice-cold barbs, robbing her of any grain of resistance. When the water moved to her damaged hand, and pain again ravaged her, it seemed even worse than before, clawing at her brain, ripping at her will to live, killing her.

Von Klitzing started the second pass, seeking the stubborn dirt, watching the fight disappear from his victim until she passed out. He shut off the water and returned the hose to the wall mount. A bell sounded, and he opened the door. The young guard handed him a ream of papers, together with a large white bath towel. Returning to her, he placed the papers on the table, and then began to dry her with the towel.

She came back around, with the touch and smell of the soft, clean towelling on her ravaged skin.

He is actually quite gentle, she marvelled to herself.

Starting with her hair, he towelled it dry, before removing the rest of the vomit and excrement from her face, chest, torso, and legs. There was nothing sexual about the way he did this; on the contrary, he moved as if drying a child, firmly, quickly, and with parental authority. When it was over, he threw the towel onto the floor, and the brief interlude in her interrogation was over. Picking up the papers, he took a small pair of eyeglasses from his breast pocket and began to read. She watched him, hoping to see fear in his eyes, but there was no emotion. When he finished, he looked up and spoke to her calmly.

“This is a very comprehensive piece of work, Mrs Petersen. Well done! How many copies did you make?”

The lie sat on her tongue for a second time. She would only have one chance at this. She did not want to spit it at him—he had to believe her.

“Four.”

She tried to keep her voice matter of fact, but could not tell if she had been successful.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

She had no way of knowing if he had found any of the other USB sticks. She only knew he was not surprised to find the one she had hidden up her arse. Finding that, he had probably spared her more pain, but it made her nervous that he knew about the others as well.

“You found one. I sent another one home, to my parents’ house in Sweden.”

He was aware of a package intercepted on the way to her house, but not of its content.

“One is in a safe deposit box at the Commerce Bank in Ottobrunn.”

He knew about this as well. She had bought the box only two days before. As long as she was alive, it would be difficult to get to, but were she to pass away, her husband would be able to access it.

“And the last one, is on its way to the Süddeutsche Zeitung .” She tried to deliver this line with some bravado.

The Süddeutsche was Bavaria’s leading newspaper. It was her big hope. Should the newspaper have the courage to print her evidence, Meyer-Hofmann would be finished.

“Who did you send it to?”

“Michael Hörnig,” she answered without delay, defiant, hopeful of at least a small victory.

Hörnig was the chief investigative journalist at the Süddeutsche and had become renowned for uncovering all manner of corporate scandals.

He would have a field day with this. She smiled to herself, and the thought seemed to help her gain a bit more self-control.

Her body started to settle down, and she was able to sit more upright, despite the rim of the seat digging deeper into her bare flesh.

Von Klitzing also allowed himself an inner smile. He’d had Hörnig in his pocket for years. Many of his biggest stories had been at the expense of Meyer-Hofmann’s competitors. You didn’t need to be a genius to work out who his confidential source was. When Hörnig received the USB stick, they could be sure of his discretion. Von Klitzing thought it through.

She could be telling the truth; it all adds up. She has confirmed my suspicions, and the whereabouts of the sticks makes sense. She was bound to want to keep one on her person, which meant swallowing it, or sticking it in one orifice or another. My special blend of breakfast tea never fails. She would want to make her information public, and the newspaper would have been the perfect choice, were Hörnig the reporter he purported to be. The safe deposit box at the bank does not represent a problem, and the stick she sent home has been secured. I think everything is back under control. I will need to take a look at our security precautions, especially the rules governing our employees spouses, but it would appear the danger has passed. He decided that he believed her; Only saving her findings on the USB sticks makes sense.