Jonathan Taylor - Meyer-Hofmann AG

Von Klitzing didn’t wait to be invited in, instead pushing past her into the centre of the entrance hall.

“I am afraid he is still sleeping,” she said indignantly.

“Then wake him; there is a situation that requires his attention.”

Lisa was not accustomed to demands and was just about to tell him where he could stick his situation, when Michael appeared at the living room door. He too was wearing a dressing gown, the sweat on his forehead giving the impression she had run the bath water far too hot.

“It’s okay, honey. How can I help you, Herr Von Klitzing?”

“Mr Jarvis, you made quite an impression last night. The mayor would like to thank you personally for your help.”

“That’s very nice of him, but there is no need.” Michael’s stomach turned at the thought, and he wished he had followed Lisa’s advice and taken a taxi home.

“I am afraid it is too late, Mr Jarvis. He has already arranged an audience at the town hall at midday. It would be very disrespectful to turn him down.”

Von Klitzing had given him little choice, and Michael could see no alternative, so he accepted as graciously as he could.

“Okay, but I have no idea what I should do, or say.”

“That is no problem, Mr Jarvis. Meyer-Hofmann has a very close working relationship with the mayor’s office. If you allow us, we would like to prep you for the meeting. I have a car waiting downstairs, at your convenience.”

“He has to have breakfast first!” Lisa insisted. “You can’t expect him to leave without something in his stomach.”

She heard her mother’s voice in her shrill tone, and her face flushed for a moment.

“I am fine, darling. Let me get some clothes on, Herr Von Klitzing. I will be right with you. Can we pick Lisa up on the way to the Town Hall?”

“Of course,” Von Klitzing answered and headed towards the door. “I’ll be waiting downstairs.”

Nodding in Lisa’s general direction, Von Klitzing disappeared out the front door.

“I hate that man. He gives me the creeps, always scratching at himself; it’s disgusting. Do you have to go, Michael? What on earth can they do to help you?”

“I have no idea, but I am not about to make any more waves before I even start the job.”

Shrugging his shoulders, he left for the bedroom. Ten minutes later, with a slice of toast clamped between his teeth, he was gone, leaving Lisa sat at the dining table alone, looking at the place settings and fighting back more tears.

This is getting to be a habit, now pull yourself together, she admonished, sniffing hard.

Michael returned at 11:30 am totally composed. He kissed her on the cheek as he entered.

“You look wonderful, darling. I’ll just put on a jacket, and then we can go.”

She was wearing a Dior trouser suit she had got for a fraction of the normal price at TK-Max. The black suit was designed to be worn without a blouse, the plunging neckline showing off the wearer’s cleavage. But Lisa had decided that might be a bit too much for the mayor and the waiting media. The last thing she wanted was to attract too much attention, so she had put a cream tailored blouse underneath it. Admiring herself in the hall mirror, she decided it that it didn’t hurt to look good. Picking up the small blue clutch bag she had chosen, to add some colour to the outfit, she turned and smiled as Michael came back from the bedroom.

“My God, what a lucky guy I am.”

Linking his arm through hers, he gave her a peck on the cheek, and they headed downstairs to the waiting limousine.

Despite outward appearances, Michael was only just holding it together. He had no idea what had just happened to him; he had no recollection of the last two hours. Von Klitzing had taken him directly to the club, and then everything was blank. He had come round in the car returning to the apartment. Heinz was driving and seemed unperturbed when Michael asked him how he got there.

“You fell asleep, sir,” he had said nonchalantly. “Don’t worry, you will be fine.”

Back in the car, now with Lisa by his side, he was fighting to stay calm. He had no idea what awaited them and was praying he could hold it together

The Town Hall is in the centre of Munich. A grand building, built in Gothic Revival style, the 100-metre-long façade looks over the Marienplatz decorated with statues of the Bavarian Kings and their history. Michael and Lisa found themselves on the large balcony in the middle of the façade usually reserved for the likes of the Bayern Munich football team celebrating a German Championship or Cup win. Michael swallowed deeply and looked down on a crowd of thousands. Unbeknownst to him, the last hero of the underground had died trying to help four innocent children. In 2009, Dominik Brunner, a fifty-year-old businessman, had tried to do the right thing, and been kicked to death for his troubles. His death had deeply affected the city and its residents. Michael’s civil courage being reported on the early morning news had made him an instant local hero. The mayor turned to Michael and, shaking his hand, started a long speech to thank him. A loudspeaker system relayed his words to the crowd below. Michael listened and nodded at the right moments, so that even Lisa was given the impression he actually might understand some of what the mayor was saying. Then, when he finished, the mayor handed the microphone to Michael.

“Mr Mayor, Ladies and Gentlemen, it is a great honour that you pay me today. An honour that I hardly deserve. Anyone put in my place would have done the same, and I am happy to have helped those young people. I have come here for work and been welcomed with open arms. For that, I am very grateful. Since my wife, Lisa, and I arrived in Munich, we have only met kind and charming people. There is always a small minority of people in every community whose selfish behaviour casts a bad light on the majority. Believe me when I say, I know that they do not represent your wonderful city. On the contrary, today, you are demonstrating the real face of Munich. Today, you have sent a message, to all who seek to disrupt and destroy… ”

Lisa watched as Michael spoke. He stood tall, his chin up, and she couldn’t have been prouder. She watched the crowd straining to see him, listening to his words. Turning back to him, she was startled when she realised something that made no sense to her at all.

Michael was speaking in fluent German.

Reichard was exhilarated.

“Did you hear him?”

They had all been there. Not on the balcony, but close.

“He was brilliant. He had them eating out of his hand—it was amazing!”

The board members were all at their places, around the oak table in the club. None of them could quite believe it. It was better than any of them could have hoped for. Heinz Hofmann had literally burst out of Jarvis, like a caged animal given its freedom. After Dr Ecker had pulled the needle from his arm, Jarvis had slept for over an hour. It was not unusual, but they were all worried there would be no time to prep him before his appearance. The plan was that he should be humble, accept the mayor’s thanks, and get out of there, keeping the Meyer-Hofmann connection quiet. But when he woke, there was no sign of Jarvis—it was Hofmann in all his glory. He remembered everything, he knew who he was, who Jarvis was, as well as the group’s shared past. After taking his place at the head of the table, he had calmly asked them to bring him up to date. More like a manager returning from a business trip than the reincarnation of a dead man. They had kept it brief, listing their successes and their recent problems. Nothing had fazed him. He saw the meeting with the mayor as an opportunity to introduce himself. After that, Hofmann had decided they should all meet up back in the club, to rework the company strategy and to better align it with the company’s original goals. Standing like a general addressing his troops, he had leant forward, hands flat on the table, and made a speech as if he had never been away.