Meyer-Hofmann AG

19

The call came at 6:00 am. Reichard reached over for his mobile on the bedside cabinet. His hand groped the cabinet top, searching in vain for the device. The ringtone continued in ever-increasing volume and tempo, dragging him out of his semi-conscious state. Swearing under his breath, he opened his eyes and propped himself up on his right arm, spying the phone, hidden behind the base of the bedside light. He had been long convinced that small devils lurked in these devices, and delighted in these annoying games. Hiding keys, twisting cables, and helping delicate items crash to the floor.

“Reichard,” he announced.

Von Klitzing was on the other end.

“Turn on the news.”

“What has happened?”

Von Klitzing knew not to bother Reichard unless it was important. Opening the bedside cabinet drawer, he pulled the television controls out and stabbed them in the direction of the television opposite his bed.

“What channel?” he demanded.

He need not have asked. The morning news show was reporting live from the entrance to the Underground at Prince Regent Place. A half-frozen reporter, holding her scarf and coat tightly under her chin, was reporting on another disturbance in the Munich Underground.

“Police are, this morning, blaming right wing factions for another attack on passengers of the Munich underground service. Last night, shortly before 11:30 pm, a group of youths known to the police assaulted a young woman waiting to board the train at the Prince Regent Place Station. Despite her boyfriend’s attempts to protect her, it appears she received several lacerations to her arms and legs. Were it not for the heroism of a passer-by, an Englishman called Michael Jarvis, there could have been a very different ending to this story.”

Michael’s picture was being shown in the bottom left-hand corner of the screen. Reichard ran his fingers through his hair, and let out a large sigh.

“Has he been hurt?”

“Our sources say he had an episode at the station, but refused hospital treatment.”

“Thank God for that! Where is he now?”

“He’s back at the apartment with his wife. They have not had breakfast yet, but he is moving around the apartment. Probably having problems sleeping. Should I go up?”

“Are you at the apartment building?”

“Of course I am!”

Reichard’s tone became concerned.

“We do not know how he will react to the recollection process. This action was totally out of character for him, but completely in character for Hofmann. Hofmann is starting to break into his consciousness. The first few weeks are always unstable, until the old memory starts to dominate. He should be given the next session as soon as possible.”

“Nobody has ever done this before.”

“I know, but he is a second-generation candidate; his own persona is far stronger than ours were. The host memories are buried deeper. Get him to the office as soon as possible. Maybe Ecker can treat him today?”

“I will keep you informed.”

With that, Von Klitzing rang off. Reichard stared at the television as pictures of the suspects were put on the screen. Then the reporter summarised:

“Our gratitude goes out to Mr Jarvis; his civil courage distinguishes him as a role model. Would more people stand up to these hooligans, our city would be a safer place. We are expecting a comment from the mayor’s office within the hour. Until then, this is Karen Weger, ARD News.”

Reichard picked up the phone and dialled Dr Ecker’s number.