Jonathan Taylor - Meyer-Hofmann AG

Whoever did this was an amateur, Günther thought.

The Doc Marten boots and black sweater the dead man was wearing were standard issue for paramilitary organisations, from security firms to right-wing radicals.

When he arrived at the car, he quickly made the decision that he was dealing with two killers. Peering down into the car’s interior, using his left hand to shield his eyes from the bright arc lighting that had been set up around the scene, he vocalised his thoughts.

“Anyone capable of making the shot that killed this woman would not have moved the other body so carelessly.”

“I’m sorry, sir, were you talking to me?” Monika asked from behind him.

Turning, he smiled.

“No, I’m sorry, I was talking to myself, but you might as well have heard it.”

“I agree, sir.”

“If this had anything to do with the Petersens break-in—and my guts are telling me it did—Family Jarvis may well have had some serious trouble this evening. Come on, we better get over there.”

The house looked as if a bomb had hit it. But on closer examination, Günther decided there was too little blood for this to be the scene of another gun crime. Someone had obviously had a serious fall on the stairs, where there were bloodstains and a sizeable hole in the staircase wall, but apart from that, the rest of the damage was superficial. Only the small office on the ground floor showed any signs of a robbery. Bare cables testified to the absence of a desktop computer and printer. The room had also been nuked, with pictures ripped from the walls, chairs and tables smashed, and diamante crystals of all shapes and sizes littering the floor. It was impossible to move without the crunch of the small stones grinding themselves into the laminate flooring.

“What a mess!” Monika said.

“Yes, but I would guess we are dealing with an abduction rather than a murder here, Monika. There is too little blood and no bodies. Whoever hit the wall out there is going to have a hell of a headache, let’s just hope it was not Mrs Jarvis!”

“What happened in here?”

“No idea. They obviously took the computer, but why they trashed the place is anyone’s guess. Trying to make it look like a break-in, maybe.”

“You don’t think it was?”

“Do you?”

“No. Where do you think they have taken her?”

“Who knows, but I am not sure she was alone. I think maybe her husband was here as well.”

“What makes you think that?”

“The scene on the road, the hole in the wall. Remember what her husband did to those kids in the Underground? I can’t believe Mrs Jarvis is capable of shooting someone in cold blood. But maybe her husband is.”

The pair left the room and moved into the lounge. The bay windows were shattered, and glass covered the floor. There were countless scratches in the parquet where feet had slipped and trampled the glass into the wood.

“Another scuffle here!” Günther said in Monika’s direction.

“Inspector Müller, sir, can you take a look at this, please.”

A young officer in a white suit approached the pair.

Günther turned to see something glittering in his gloved right hand.

“Sir, it’s a USB stick.”Günther pulled a rubber glove from his right jacket pocket and snapped it onto his hand, taking the stick from the forensic officer. He turned it over and took a closer look. One end of the device was covered in small crystals shaped as diamonds, the other was a classic USB plug with the word ‘Swarovski’ embossed in the metal. Günther remembered buying an old girlfriend a piece of ‘Swarovski’ jewellery, which he remembered she had hated.

Why would anyone buy a piece of bling like this?

Monika watched her boss’s face take on a puzzled look.

“Günther?”

He stepped cautiously over the broken glass and went back to the office. Taking another rubber glove from his pocket, he pulled it on and knelt down next to a large dark brown wooden frame in the middle of the room. Turning it over, it revealed the garden collage. The right side of the garden scene had taken the brunt of the impact with the floor. The right rim hung loose from the frame’s main body, and the top right corner was missing. Most of the crystals had broken free of their glued mounting, revealing a penciled drawing of the house’s back garden. The left side of the picture was more or less intact. It depicted the garden hedge and border, as well as the small pond and bridge. Blue and green crystals had been used to make the water and the lily pads floating on the pond. Clear crystals gave the effect of reflected sunlight on the water. A number of these crystals were missing in the middle of the water, where a small recess had been chiselled into the frame’s wooden back. Günther took the USB stick and slotted it into the recess. It was a perfect fit. He turned to look at Monika, who was staring down at him, fascinated .

“I need to see what has been saved on this, now!”

He handed the USB stick back to the white-suited officer.

“First thing in the morning, Moni, I want a search warrant for all of Meyer-Hofmann’s premises in Munich. If that is what I think it is, we will have more than enough evidence to get a warrant.

Lisa was cold, wet, and felt very vulnerable. She had awoken briefly in the car as one of her assailants had pushed a needle into her arm, and then again as a blast of ice-cold water battered her back into consciousness. She was strapped, naked, into a hard wooden chair and could feel her bottom hanging through the chair’s seat rim. The wood was biting into her bum cheeks and thighs, and she was shaking from the cold. Her throat felt sore and bruised, and there were large blue marks on her right thigh and arm. She struggled against straps restraining her, only to feel herself sink deeper into the chair’s missing seat.

“That won’t work, Mrs Jarvis.”

She recognised the voice immediately. Von Klitzing emerged from the room’s shadows, pushing a small trolley in front of him. He had been in the room for some time, watching her, mulling over his options.

Theoretically, he had the whole day at his disposal.

He had been relieved of his responsibilities by Anton Brandt, once known as Peter Von Klitzing. A wry smile crossed his face as he wondered how close his son’s incarnation of Anton would resemble his own.

“Let me go; what are you doing? You can’t do this!”

“Oh, can’t I? It would seem I can.” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I haven’t done anything. You have to let me go! Michael will kill you!”

“Well, we will see if that happens, Mrs Jarvis, but it is not something that you will witness.”

He smiled widely at her.

“What are you going to do?”

He held a cup of hot tea under her nose.

“I’m not drinking that! Are you mad!” Unable to move her head because of the restraints, Lisa pushed back and spat a volley of phlegm into Von Klitzing’s face.

“As you will.” Von Klitzing tilted the cup slightly towards her and threw the scalding liquid into her face.

Lisa screamed as the skin on her face and chest blistered and reddened on contact with the hot tea. Some of the tea had entered her mouth, and she coughed and spat to get it out.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Mrs Jarvis. It is your decision.”

As the pain subsided, Lisa struggled to calm herself. She didn’t think she was badly burnt, but she couldn’t really tell. It was, however, clear to her who had the upper hand, and that her only hope would be to somehow get out of the chair.

“Look, I’m sorry. I just don’t understand; there is no need for this. I will tell you what you want to know.”

“Of course you will.”