Jonathan Taylor - Meyer-Hofmann AG

Someone must have got to her and forced her to change her story, he thought.

“Mrs Petersen, there is substantial evidence that supports your allegations. Is there a reason you have changed your story? You know, we can protect you if you need help.”

“No, nothing like that. Look, I have no idea what happened to that poor family, but I am sure Meyer-Hofmann had nothing to do with it.”

“And the others?”

“What others?”

“You inferred in your letter that this was not an isolated event. That other employees had been targeted.”

“Look, I was just trying to embellish my story. There is no foundation to it!”

“I am afraid that is not good enough, Mrs Petersen. I need to see all the information you have. About your husband’s role in the company, as well as his relationship with Mr Singh. I need to see the e-mails you refer to, as well as any other documentation you may have. Even if you do not believe it to be important! We would like to be the judge of that.”

“Look, I will help as much as I can. But you have to understand these are private e-mails from the company. I can’t just hand them over.”

“Then we will get a warrant.”

“Do you have to? Can’t you just drop the whole thing? There is nothing to it!”

“I am afraid I do not believe you, Mrs Petersen, and I intend to find out exactly what is going on here.”

“Well, without me!”

“Is there anything else you want to tell us, Mrs Petersen? Because if not, I am going to start questioning members of the company’s board, including your husband.”

Eva shrugged.

They could talk to whoever they wanted to, it wouldn’t change a thing. Once Meyer-Hofmann’s high-priced lawyers got a smell of it, they would stop this guy in his tracks. Anything that could endanger the company’s image would be fought with all its legal and political clout.

“Look, I have told you all that I know. If you are going to charge me, then do it. Otherwise, I take it I am free to go?”Günther did not like the tone, but knew that there was little he could do about it. He felt like throwing the book at her, but was not sure he would get much support from his superiors. Unless they came up with some hard evidence in the States, this could well be the end of it.

“Mrs Petersen, I am warning you, when I speak to your husband and representatives of his company, I will make it clear to them the allegations you have made against them. I may well also infer that you have evidence to prove this. You might well be in some considerable danger if these deaths were murders. Whether you take back the accusations or not.”

Eva sat back in her seat and crossed her arms, indicating that, for her, the interview was over.

“Mrs Petersen, I will need you to leave your passport with us. Do not make any attempt to leave the country. I will also require you to leave me an address and telephone number where I can reach you at any time. This is not the end of it. I will be in touch again soon. DC Keller will take care of the details.”Günther stood and left the room, leaving the two women behind him.

Outside, he blew out a frustrated breath.

That could have gone better, he thought. She is not telling us the truth. I am sure of that!

Hofmann awoke back in his bed in the basement of the Gallery Street club. Dr Ecker was flipping the sheets of a chart in his hands, pacing the small room and muttering to himself. There was a drip back in Hofmann’s left arm, and he was feeling decidedly unwell. He had a temperature, his head was throbbing, and his whole body felt as if it had been in a car crash.

“Doctor,” he croaked out.

“Herr Hofmann, how are you feeling?”

The Doctor seemed genuinely concerned, which worried Hofmann.

“What happened?”

“You had an episode. We have dealt with it. You are on an increased dose of the virus treatment, so you might not feel too good for a few days.”

“I don’t understand, Doctor. What is wrong with me?”

“It’s not an exact science, Herr Hofmann. The human mind is extremely complex, and it is very difficult to track all of Jarvis’s dormant memories. They seem to be stored in unusual places in his brain. I must be careful not to do more damage than good.”

“At this moment, I would take a chance. I need to get this thing under control; there is too much work to be done, Doctor.”

“I want to give you a computer tomography tomorrow. After that, I should be able to get a better picture how we are progressing. We will talk again tomorrow morning, Herr Hofmann. The best thing for you at the moment is sleep. Let the treatment do its work. You need your rest!”

As the doctor left the room, Hofmann let himself sink back into the bed. The smell of freshly washed linen filled his nostrils and, for some reason, gave him some small comfort. There was little he could do to change his predicament, so closing his eyes, he decided to try to wait it out.

Waking, Hofmann rolled over in the bed, reaching for his wrist watch. It was 2:00 am, and he had a raging thirst.

“Guard!”

There was no answer.

“Guard. Guard!”

Still nothing. Pulling himself upright, he had to steady himself as a wave of dizziness came and went. Pulling the sheets back and gingerly swinging his legs out of the bed, he made to stand up. For a second, he was upright, then, hit by the dizziness again, he felt himself falling. Trying not to rip the drip from his arm, he swung himself round anti-clockwise, but this just intensified the feeling, and he fell backwards, impacting the hard concrete floor with the back of his head. The clatter of the drip stand and bag landing next to him was lost in the howl that left his mouth as he collided with the cold floor.

Whether he had been unconscious for a second or an hour, he could not tell. The pain in his head blinded him, and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, as if he might be able to shut the pain out. On the contrary, it became even worse, causing his body to convulse and retch sour bile onto the floor. Only the sound of a familiar voice brought him back to half-consciousness.

“No more than you deserve, you bastard.”

Whipping his head around, Hofmann was unable to tell from which direction the voice had come. He saw no one.

“I won’t let you do this. I will fight you!”

Now standing, Hofmann staggered to the light switch, convinced the man must be standing in the shadows. The fluorescent tubes on the ceiling blinked into life, illuminating every corner of the sparse eight-by-ten-metre grey room. The unmade bed stood on one side of the room, empty. Next to it, a small bedside table held a glass of water and Hofmann’s watch. Lying on the floor, the drip slowly deposited its contents onto the polished concrete floor, a puddle progressively pushing its boundaries in all directions. Opposite the bed was the door and another table, a heap of folders that Hofmann had been examining earlier piled awkwardly on its corner, next to assorted boxes of pills. Above the table was a large mirror, which stretched to a small basin in the corner of the room. It gave the room the impression that it was larger than it actually was and served as a shaving mirror for Hofmann, who was unable to get used to the modern electric razors, preferring a wet shave. Looking briefly at the confused and disorientated face of Jarvis, he turned back to face the bed.

“Where are you?” He screamed it out loud, his eyes wild with fear and confusion.

Callous laughter filled the room.

“You fucking moron. Where do you think I am?”

Swinging round, he was convinced his tormentor was behind him. He looked back into the laughing face of Michael Jarvis, staring back at him out of the mirror.