Jonathan Taylor - Meyer-Hofmann AG

He handed her a thick manila file.

“When do you need them?”

“End of next week would be good. Think you can manage that?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem, but I will let you know for sure after I have looked over them.”

Steve turned and left her to get on with it, strutting away like the lord of the manor.

HLH, I have heard that company name before, I’m sure.

Leaning over the desk without taking her seat, she swiped the wireless mouse across the mouse pad. That brought her computer screen back to life, and she quickly tapped ‘HLH’ into Google. The second listing was a New York Times article on the tragic death of the HLH CEO and his family.

Oh my God!

Singh had been somewhat of a guru on the financial markets. Browsing the books Steve had given her, the bottom line didn’t look bad either. Year-end profits would be in the eight-figure range before tax. Most of which she intended to avoid.

He had had so much to live for. It was such a shame.

Lisa moved into her chair and took stock.

Really, I have a lot to be grateful for. That poor family is dead, and just last week, the CEO from Portland Investment took his own life. I need to count my blessings and lighten up! Maybe an evening out is just what I need. When Michael gets back, we will have a long talk and sort things out.

The rest of the day flew by, and it was not long before she was sat next to Sophie at the Brenner Grill. The Brenner is one of a host of funky restaurants in Munich. Just off the wealthy Maximilian Street, it served all types of grilled dishes directly from a large open grill, built into the middle of the restaurant.

The evening had been very pleasant. Sophie was clearly smitten. Lisa had spent most of the night on the receiving end of a minute-by-minute description of her life with the new boyfriend. How they met, fell head over heels in love, and moved in together, all in the course of a week. Apparently, this was not the first time Sophie had had a whirlwind romance. Lisa had been offered the chance to take part in an office pool on how long it would last. The secretaries on their floor were running a book, and as of this afternoon, the longest guess was a month.

Sophie usually got bored, is what they had said, but Lisa had declined to take part in the bet. Preferring to cross her fingers for her friend, she decided she had better things to do than take part in the cheap joke.

When it came time to go, Steve passed around glasses of champagne before paying the complete bill.

“I can’t, I’m driving,” Lisa said, putting up her hand.

“One glass is okay, Lis,” he insisted, handing her the glass anyway.

“Now let’s drink to Sophie and Frank.” He raised his glass, and they all toasted the couple, making Sophie blush.

“To Sophie and Frank,” everyone said together.

“We must do this more often, team. I will pay,” Steve announced.

“I will drink to that,” Sophie said with a chuckle.

Leaving the restaurant, a photographer appeared from behind the bar, and the group posed for a photo. Steve made a point of standing next to Lisa. Then, slowly, everybody went their separate ways. Lisa had followed Steve from work, both parking in the underground garage at the end of Maximilian Street, opposite the Theatre of the State Opera. They had hardly swapped a word over dinner, and Steve was all business on the short walk. Only when Lisa stopped to look in the window of Louis Vuitton did he change.

“You deserve beautiful things.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Steve. But these beautiful things are out of my league.”

“They are not in your league, Lisa. You are a beautiful woman, and you should have beautiful things.”

Lisa knew she should be running in the direction of the car, but the champagne and a genuine need for a little affection made her stay.

“Steve, don’t be naughty; you know I’m married.”

“Of course, I do, and he is a very lucky man. Where is he, by the way? If you were mine, I would never leave you alone.”

He moved closer, invading her space. It felt dangerous, and at the same time, a little exciting. He was an extremely handsome man. His Bulgari aftershave filled her nose, and she had to admit that his Australian charm was difficult to resist.

“Come back to my place, just a nightcap,” he implored.

“No, that is not a good idea.” She made to break contact, but he caught her arm and went for the kiss.

It shouldn’t have surprised her, in retrospect, but surprise her it did. More surprising was that she found herself briefly kissing him back. Maybe it was his attitude towards her over the past two weeks. She loved a man’s attention, and although she had no desire to do anything about it, she had to admit to herself that Steve’s attention was very flattering.

Kissing him is wrong; what do you think you are doing? she chastised herself. If Michael ever found out, he would be devastated! On the other hand, she insisted to herself: It was only a kiss. Plus, Michael is partly to blame; he has treated me like shit for the past month. Her emotions swinging back and forth erratically, she instantly reprimanded herself again: It is no excuse .

Somehow, getting angry at Michael and his treatment of her helped her to stop feeling so bad for a minute, but she knew she had broken Michael’s trust.

“Whoa, look, Steve that was not a good idea, I’m sorry. Our relationship can never be anything more than work.”

“I know, I know, Lisa, but you can’t blame a guy for trying.” His boyish grin lightened the situation a little.

“I hope that this will not go any further?”

Now Steve looked hurt.

“Give me some credit, I am not about to tell anyone about this, Lisa. You have nothing to worry about.”

“I’m sorry, Steve. Goodnight.”

Lisa looked down at her feet in the hope the pavement would open up and swallow her. It didn’t; she would have to live with it. A deep breath and a forced smile, and she took off in the direction of the car, chastising herself as she went. She left Steve standing alone on the pavement. He watched her go, and then casually bent as if to tie a shoelace, looking over his shoulder. On the opposite side of the road, the photographer nodded before looking back at the camera to admire his work. The picture could not have been better. Her eyes were closed, and her arms were around Walker’s neck. They looked like a couple in love, kissing openly on a busy Munich street.

Heinz Hofmann was rarely scared of anything, but the thought of returning home to Jarvis’s wife filled him with a feeling he could not describe any other way. Jarvis had been making his life hell over the last two weeks. After the first incident, he had been forced to give orders that he should be restrained, were he to try to leave the club for any reason. That had happened on eight different occasions and put two guards in the hospital. Hofmann knew that Jarvis was now aware of his situation. He was also sure that Jarvis was in possession of his entire life history, at least as good as he could remember it himself. It infuriated Hofmann that his own flesh and blood could not understand and would not appreciate the opportunity he had been given. The Führer’s vision had been Hofmann’s life. It was a vision that had mobilised a nation—surely an IT manager from Yorkshire could be persuaded of its merits. Jarvis had become a constant presence, a shadow in the back of his mind, a misty figure in the room where he slept, watching him one moment and fighting him the next. Not since the speech in Marienplatz had he felt in control of this body. He had tried to make direct contact, submitting to Dr Ecker’s best effort at hypnotism in an attempt to reason with the man. He had hoped he may be able to communicate with him and persuade him of the cause. But Jarvis was having none of it. Since realising he could not escape Hofmann, he had taken to destroying Hofmann’s work. The job descriptions Hofmann had worked on all day for his new board members were gone in an instant. He was confined to the shadows to watch them go up in smoke. Hofmann was the one who must now adapt, learn the modern ways, use Jarvis’s knowledge to preserve his work in the future.