Jonathan Taylor - Meyer-Hofmann AG

Better safe than sorry, Eva thought, downing the glass of wine in her hand in one, before gesturing to the bartender for a refill.

A second visit to the hairdresser had returned her hair colour back to brunette. Hair extensions completed the transformation. Dark red lipstick made her lips fuller and contrasted against her brilliant white bleached smile. Müller scanned the room, noticing the woman’s evasive reaction. Intrigued, he made a beeline for her, only to be headed off by an officious-looking man.

“How can I help you?” Von Klitzing put himself between the intruder and his daughter.

“Oh, excuse me, I was just looking around. I thought I recognised the young lady behind you.”

“I am afraid these rooms are off-limits to non-members.”

“I will be gone in just a moment. Young Lady!” Müller called in Eva’s direction.

She was unsure what to do, but it would have looked suspicious had she not turned around.

“Excuse me, do I know you?”Günther was good at faces. Her hair colour and makeup had changed, but her name was Britt Peterson, last time they had met.

“I am sorry, I was mistaken. I thought you were Britt Peterson, maybe you know her?”

“Yes, of course, she is the wife of one of Meyer-Hofmann’s board members. My name is Eva Von Klitzing. I didn’t catch yours.” Eva’s stomach was tight with fear, but she managed to give the policeman a confident greeting.

“Günther Müller, nice to meet you.” Günther shook her hand before offering his to Von Klitzing.

“And you are?”

“Von Klitzing. I am afraid you will have to leave. As I said, these rooms are private.”

“Yes, of course, I am sorry. It is a remarkable resemblance.”

“People say so. Now, you must leave!”Müller turned and headed for the door, his stomach basking in the glory of another successful assumption. He could feel the eyes of the room on his back as he considered the consequences of his find.

Leaving the room, he made his way quickly back to the restaurant. Monika could tell the moment she saw him that she would not get to enjoy a quiet lunch. Standing, she anticipated his gesture and pulled her purse from her handbag. Waving to their ever-present waiter, she thrust a twenty-euro note into his hand, and they left the club at a canter.

Once back on the Munich streets, Monika did not have to wait long for an explanation.

“Britt Peterson was an imposter. I just met the woman who impersonated her upstairs, and she is the daughter of one of the board members’.”

“You are kidding! How do you know?”

“It was her. It is too much of a coincidence. She recognised me straightaway when I entered the room.”

“Then where is the real Mrs Peterson?”

“That is what we have to find out, and quickly. I have a bad feeling.”

“Do you think she is dead?”

“There is no other reason for them impersonating her.”

“So what is our next move?”

“We invite them all back to our place. I want to know what they are up to. Monika, I need all the videotapes of the Petersen interview.”

“No problem, Boss!”

Lisa had arrived at work before 6:00 am, surprised by how many of her colleagues were already at their places at that time of day. Flexible work patterns allowed the staff to come and go as they pleased, a simple system on each desktop computer tracking their weekly hours. Lisa’s plan was to get Steve Walker’s password to the PricewaterhouseCoopers intranet and find out as much as she could before he got to the building. He was rarely in the office before midday, preferring to do the late shift than be the first through the door. Whether she would find the password would be the plan’s main stumbling block. His office was locked, but she knew the cleaners had keys to all the offices, and their store room on the ground floor was never locked. She went directly to the cleaners’ office, arriving just as a Turkish woman was leaving.

“You couldn’t help me, could you? I have forgotten my key.” She had given the woman one of her most painful looks, a cross between Bambi and an injured kitten.

“Which room you need?” The woman’s heavy accent made her German more difficult to understand, but Lisa guessed what she said.

“Three hundred and twelve.”

“Is manager.”

“Yes, yes, I am new here.”

“Yes, you wait.”

The woman had disappeared back into the room before returning with a small bundle of keys.

“Is one of these, I not know which.”

“Oh, thank you. I will bring them straight back.”

Lisa smiled and headed off to the lift before the cleaner could change her mind. Waiting until she was out of sight, she doubled back to the car park and made a quick trip to “Mr Mint”. Copying the whole key ring took over forty-five minutes, and she was starting to get anxious, but with both sets carefully zipped into her handbag, she returned to the building. Lisa found her friendly cleaning lady after a door-to-door search of the offices, returning the originals, along with a ten-euro tip.

Theoretically, she could have accessed all the information she needed from her office workstation, using her own password. But she was worried that the company may have some tracking software that would lead them back to her, should anyone become suspicious. It was also likely that Steve would have a higher security clearance level, and therefore, access to data she did not. Standing in front of Steve’s office door, she said a quick prayer before thrusting one key after another into the locking mechanism, hoping she would get in before anyone noticed. The third of the copied keys rewarded her with an audible click, and a quick twist of the polished handle allowed her access to Steve’s inner sanctum. Stepping quickly inside and pressing the door quietly shut with the palm of her hand, she turned and looked around the room. It was large but spartan; a steel and glass table stood in the centre, supporting an iMac and keyboard. With exception of a few files and a mouse pad, the table top was empty. Lisa had hoped for an obvious hiding place for the password, desk drawers or filing cabinets. A small cabinet on wheels under the desk offered little hope, holding just a collection of pens and office regalia in one drawer and useless files in the others. As she rifled through the bottom drawer of the cabinet, the sound of voices at the door caused her heart to make a brief attempt to escape her chest. There was nothing she could do, nothing but freeze and stare guiltily in the direction of the door.

No, please. Don’t open! she prayed.

One of the voices was Sophie’s, the others were male colleagues she didn’t recognise.

“Look, I’m sure he will understand when we explain what happened,” Sophie was saying in a half-whispered voice.

“I’m not so sure, now shush!” Lisa could imagine the man holding a finger up to his lips, asking Sophie to be quiet.

The knock reverberated from the door to Lisa’s teeth and down to her toes.

God, please don’t let them try the door, she prayed again.

She had forgotten to lock the door after she had entered.

They could just walk in. I will be caught red-handed.

A second knock had less conviction. More of a we-are-still-here knock than an are-you-there kind of knock. Go away. Lisa had to stop herself saying the words out loud.

“Come on, we’ll have to come back later.” Sophie’s voice confirmed the group’s departure, and Lisa sat down on Steve’s office chair with a sigh of relief.

Swivelling around to face the large panorama windows, she had a clear view of the building’s entrance. There was still little activity in the street below, and the multiple railway lines of the Munich City Station saw only the shunting of locomotives into position before their journeys up to the north of the country. Looking back into the room, she saw that one of the office walls housed the obligatory book shelves. Steve had not got round to filling it, and more than half of the shelf space was empty. The opposite wall incorporated a small bar with a Jura coffee machine and fridge. Finding his password had always been an outside chance, and Lisa satisfied herself with a rummage through the books and the bar. Only as she was about to give up and leave did she think to start up the computer. Like all the computers in the firm, it was left on all night in idle. A touch of the space bar woke the Mac, and she dialled straight into the company intranet. The customary password box appeared, and she considered a pot luck entry.