Meyer-Hofmann AG

27

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.

“This is not happening. I will not allow it.” He watched the words form and leave his mouth. But he heard Jarvis’s voice. The image in the mirror changed rapidly, from a laughing man to one filled with angst. There was no conviction in his voice, and he had to look on as the mirror image changed again, and Jarvis manifested himself.

“You fucking arsehole. Didn’t you have your fill of misery and pain the first time around?” Michael spoke as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. “You and your friends are finished, I will see to that!”

Hofmann was reeling; he had no idea how to deal with this.

I can hardly strike out without hurting myself. The man is angry and aggressive. I must try to calm him down, before I send him back where he belongs, Hofmann thought, in an attempt to steady himself. I must alert Ecker of the situation.

“Michael, it’s not what you think. This is an incredible opportunity, for us both!” His voice was pleading, and he knew before the sentence was finished that it was wasted breath. Without waiting for an answer, he continued. “You are in a very privileged position. You can play a part in the salvation of humanity!”

“Salvation? You are a destroyer, Hofmann, not a saviour.”

“Wake up, Michael. Look at the world that you live in. You think you are in control of your life, that you can make choices. You are wrong. Every moment of your life is decided by others, for their convenience. You, and millions like you, prostitute yourselves every day, for the sake of a few baubles and possessions. We are here to save you from them, to give the power back to people like you.”

“You can’t possibly believe that propaganda nonsense will work with me, Hofmann. For God’s sake, I know what you are thinking, what you are planning. You want to murder and kill. Save the people—what people are you going to save?”

“People like you and I, Michael. People who deserve a chance in life, who were born for better things, but are downtrodden by the evil entities and sub-human creatures wandering this world. This is our destiny. That is why we were put on this Earth. To clean house!”

“Another Holocaust. More exterminations?”

“Michael, you must understand. The Aryan race gives us a perfect basis, on which we are duty-bound to build. The world cannot support all the parasites who live on it, sucking the life blood out of the planet and the good people on this Earth. Big business and politicians are carving up the world’s wealth, and you are letting them. It has been the same for generations. Mankind has got to stop being kind and start defending itself!”

“That is your justification for genocide?”

“What gives an ex-bedouin tribesman the right to call the world’s oil reserves his own, and hold the world to ransom? Look at the Russians’ gas supplies. Europe is at their beck and call. The Bolsheviks have been a thorn in Europe’s side for generations.”

“So you would annihilate them and put yourself in control?”

“I would put the people in control!” Hofmann was getting up a head of steam. He felt the old passion growing in him.

“Have you never heard of democracy?”

“It doesn’t work, Michael. Look at the British, the oldest democracy in the world, and a pale imitation of a once-great nation. Walk through their capital, and you will hardly see a white face. Where are the Englishmen?”

“On the contrary. They are the living example that a democracy works.”

“Have you seen their immigration policies? It is a country of bleeding hearts. Its doors are open to every antisocial individual on the planet. The country is so politically correct, it has become a joke! They might as well make a big sign ‘Miscreants Welcome’.” Hofmann waved his arms and hands around, animatedly framing the sign in the air.

“You are looking at the world from the same sick, bigoted place that led us into the last world war. Your strategies will always sway world opinion against you and your blinkered beliefs. Fortunately, the vast majority of the people live by a higher moral code.”

“Listen to yourself, bleating on about morality. People look after themselves, Michael, always have and always will. If you don’t show strength, you will be used by your neighbour, not helped by him.”

The debate was going nowhere, and both men knew it. Hofmann had hoped he might be able to convince Jarvis of their vision, but now he knew he had to get rid of him.

I have to wipe every last trace of this man from my mind. Expel this weakness from my consciousness. Now, I know the source of the weakness I found in my board. It was the cosseted upbringing and indoctrination of their hosts.

Michael saw himself in the mirror thinking those words, believing those words. He had to stop this man, at all costs.

Suddenly, sounds came from the hallway, and within seconds, the door was open, and a guard and Dr Ecker were in the room. Ecker had a syringe in his hand and was staring into Michaels’s eyes, unsure of what he or whom he was seeing. He sank the needle deep into Michael’s right arm, catching him as he fell, still looking, still searching. For Michael, the lights went out.

It was mid-afternoon, and the spring sunshine was blazing through the windows of the club. Heinz Hofmann had the board back at the table, and he was not a happy man. The fight with Jarvis was taking its toll and leaving his nerves raw. Dr Ecker had again tried to play the patience card, but Hofmann was having none of it. On top of that, he had now finished his appraisal of Meyer-Hofmann AG, and the litany of errors he had uncovered infuriated him.

“Gentlemen, I am not going to beat around the bush here. You are a pale imitation of your forefathers. I have spent the last two weeks studying what you have done with my company. Only to come to the conclusion that you have all lost sight of our original goal. Gentlemen, it is not our job to make money—we have always had money. It is our responsibility to create change, to change the world for the benefit of our countrymen. To rid it of weakness, corruption, and the insidious influences.”

Grunts and coughs filled the room, as the men at the table digested the accusations. All were stung by the criticism, but none were able or willing to contradict it. Only Von Klitzing seemed unaffected by the insults. He had been trying to take a more aggressive stance for years, only to be blocked by Reichard.

Maybe Hofmann’s return would change things, maybe this was exactly what the company needed.

Reichard, on the other hand, was not impressed. He had devoted his life to the company, achieving success as a global influence.

“Michael, you don’t understand.”

“Michael? Michael! My name is Heinz Hofmann, and you will address me as such!” Hofmann boomed at Reichard, enraged.

“You men have lost sight of who you really are. Despite all your work, Hitler’s vision is a million light years away. You have allowed yourselves to be corrupted by the very forces we are here to stamp out. It is abhorrent to me!” His eyes went back to Reichard. “And you. You are Hans Bremen, my friend, my confidant, my right hand. Have you forgotten who you are?”

Reichard stared up at Hofmann sheepishly. He was about to mouth an answer when Hofmann continued.

“I need strength and commitment around me. I need total commitment to the cause. We will use the rebirth technique as it was intended to be used, to start a Fourth Reich! It is time for the next generation. If you can’t deliver, then your sons will have to do it for you! Dr Ecker, start immediately?”

Ecker too was in shock, taking a while to respond. He was well aware that this was always the intent.

“But, Herr Hofmann, not all of us have male offspring.” He had hoped that they could find a plan B and spare their sons this step.

“What? You morons couldn’t even get that right!”

“Herr Reichard, Herr Von Klitzing, and myself have all fathered sons, Herr Hofmann. We can start the process at any time. But are you sure? Is it necessary?”

“Necessary? I will tell you what is necessary. I need my board. I need their strength and conviction. You lot are a disgrace!”

“We will start immediately. We can have the boys here by the end of the week.”

That seemed to pacify Hofmann.

“Good. We need to be proactive. I want to see this country on a different path within the year. We have the power and the influence; we only lack the courage and conviction. But not anymore!”

Ecker was still on his feet, but his mind was puzzling through his options.

Why stop the procedure? By helping each generation to remember its path, its history, they could extend their influence indefinitely. Hofmann was right, Germany had become soft and impotent, as much a slave to the corporations as any other nation. They were a corporation, a big corporation, one with the power to make a difference.

“I will have my son here tomorrow and start the work.”

Each of the board members now looked at one another and wondered what this could mean for their futures. Von Klitzing, Reichard, and Dr Ecker were all well aware what it would mean. Their sons would undergo a metamorphosis, before replacing their fathers. This was their initial design, their eternal protection, and most probably the reason for their personal extinction.

“I have also been looking at the command structures of our companies. Herr Von Klitzing has been doing a splendid job of eradicating the disruptive forces in our midst, but he has not gone far enough, or quickly enough. Herr Von Klitzing, I want you to double your efforts.”

“With the greatest respect, Herr Hofmann, we are moving as fast as we can without raising suspicion in the law enforcement community.”

“I have no interest in their suspicions—get it done!” That is foolish, Von Klitzing thought, shocked.

He watched Hofmann more intensely. Hofmann worried him.

We cannot ignore the world around us. This is not 1939. Things have to be handled differently now.

“Furthermore, I want more political involvement, in Germany and abroad. We can only influence the people by empowering them. What steps have been taken?”

At this, Fredrik took to his feet.

“Herr Hofmann, we have influence in all political parties in Germany, with the exception of the Green Party. Both the SPD and CSU could be influenced to move our candidates up the Party hierarchy.”

“Good, see to it! What influence do we have in other countries?”

“Wherever there is greed, we have candidates. America and Russia are well infiltrated, the United Kingdom and France are our primary targets outside Germany in Europe. We could have the entire Italian Parliament for a euro if we wanted it, but they hold no real influence in world politics.”

“Nonsense, the Italians understand us; they will be our allies again. I will make funds available immediately. Europe is screaming out for some leadership. If we offer people an alternative to the greed and nepotism of their governments, they will bite our hands off.”

“And how do you suggest we do this?”

“Simple, we make the funds available. There is more than enough money in the world’s companies to solve all of Europe’s problems. We just have to encourage them to give it away.”

Hofmann smiled at his own remark.

“Germany must be seen to be Europe’s saviour, not its financial auditor. Give the likes of Greece, Portugal, Spain our support and they will rise up with us. Their youth have been given no hope of a better life. We will change that. I want a plan in place within the month. Anyone who cannot see the vision, can be bought. Those who cannot be bought, will be terminated. Herr Von Klitzing, what is our strength at the moment?”

Von Klitzing rose slowly. This had been a lot to take in.

“We have a little over a 500 strong battalion, consisting of three companies. Approximately half are available for active service, and the rest could be made ready within a year.”

“Where are they? I want to see them.”

Hofmann had always loved the military. His service career had been limited to a brief tour of duty during World War I. He had missed the bloodshed, working in the supply units of the German Army. His business acumen had been recognised by the higher ranks and got him transferred from the front line, rising to the rank of captain. This had never been easy for him to accept; as a staunch nationalist, he wanted to fight for his country. He was one of many in the German Military who found defeat hard to stomach. He was sure that, had he been able to play a bigger part, he may have made a difference. That conviction had driven him to train extensively with paramilitary units between the world wars, convinced that the German Army could and would have won the first world war with better leadership. When Hitler persuaded him to take a back seat for World War II as well, it was with great reluctance that he did so. If he had anything to say about it, this time around, he would be on the front line.

“They are in Austria. We could go down there on Monday. I will make arrangements for the mobilisation of our assets. Have you made a decision about Jarvis’s wife?”

“I still haven’t decided. She is a problem. What would you recommend I do with her?”

“We need to get rid of her. Wives are a complication. The simplest way is to divorce her.”

“On what grounds?”

“Adultery is the quickest way. Either you have to sleep with somebody and let her find out, or we set her up as the adulteress.”

“I really don’t have time for this, but set up both.”