Meyer-Hofmann AG

18

The house looked like nothing from the outside. Painted white, with a flat roof, it was difficult to get an idea of its size. Petersen had greeted them at the front door, with a handshake and a Scandinavian accent that Lisa loved. He was about Michael’s age, tall with short blond hair and a muscular physique, but despite his good looks and his artful manipulation of the English language, there was something cold about him. He was aloof, avoiding any questions not directly concerning the house.

Maybe he was still suffering after the breakup from his wife, Lisa wondered.

As Petersen led them through the house, both men could see that Lisa was blown away.

“Do you like it?” Petersen asked.

“Like it? It’s beautiful. Who did the decoration?”

Lisa regretted the words before they left her mouth.

“My wife. She has a thing for interior design.”

“Oh, me too.”

The men looked at one another, swapping a knowing look.

The large entrance had a dark wooden floor, pale cream walls, and an antique table sat by the wall in front of a tall free-standing mirror in a silver frame. On the table was a large glass vase, with the most gorgeous imitation flowers. Tree branches formed the backbone of the decoration supporting the delicate stems. Sastre crisscrossed six pear boughs and weaved in hydrangea and lisianthus, as well as lady’s mantle. The colours complemented one another perfectly, while contrasting the subdued colours of the entrance. The flowers’ stems seemed to be bathed in water, but at closer inspection, Lisa could see that this was a trick. The vase had been painted on the inside to give the water effect. The lounge had a pale carpet and large bay windows leading out into the generous garden. Two large, dark brown leather sofas were positioned around an open fireplace, next to which an antique cabinet held the television behind closed doors. More flowers decorated the dining table, matching the colours of the wallpaper that covered just the main wall, which stretched from the door to the entrance hall, all the way to the windows. The other walls had been left white, showing off large original landscapes, framed in gold and hung under individual copper spotlights.

“It is beautiful. And the furnishings are just lovely.”

“I am glad you like it. I have been living in Munich since my separation. You are very welcome to stay here, if you wish?”

“I beg your pardon, move in now?”

Lisa’s eyes shot to Michael.

“This is all a bit quick,” Michael said. “I will need time to think about it before I make any commitments.”

“No, no, you misunderstand, you are welcome to stay here while you’re deciding. For a modest rent, of course. It would be infinitely more comfortable than the company flat. If you decide to take it, great, if not, that is also okay.”

“Well, that’s very generous of you, Mr Petersen. We will certainly consider it.”

“Oh, come on, Michael, what have we got to lose?”

Michael smiled at her, and Lisa knew he would relent.

“After all, I am making a lot of sacrifices for this move!”

The Munich motorway from Starnberg was almost free of traffic, demonstrating another virtue of the Petersen Property. They were back in the city apartment within thirty minutes of leaving the house. The viewing had taken longer than expected, and it didn’t leave them much time to make their next appointment. They had been invited to dinner with Lisa’s new boss, Steve Walker.

They were supposed to meet at an upmarket restaurant named Käfer in the south of the city. It was just a short distance from the underground station, so they decided to leave the car and take the train. Hurriedly, they washed and changed, scattering the temporary bedroom with clothes and towels. Excited by the day’s events, they chatted all the way to the restaurant. Lisa was keen to keep up the pressure on Michael, and by the time they arrived at the restaurant, it had been agreed that they would move into the Starnberg House. Their furniture would go into storage until their final decision, but Lisa was already thinking of making the Petersens an offer for some of their furniture. Although she had not shared this titbit of information with Michael yet.

Michael’s first impression of Lisa’s new boss was not a good one. For some reason, he openly flirted with Lisa all night, despite having a very attractive date of his own at the table. He spent his time showering her with compliments about her clothes, looks, and work record. Walker practically ignored both Michael and his own girlfriend, leaving them to make conversation by themselves, whilst he monopolised Lisa. Michael was not the jealous type, but he felt himself becoming angrier as the night went on. Fortunately, Lisa was aware of the problem and her husband’s discomfort, and she focused on keeping Steve at arm’s length whenever possible. Walker, on the other hand, was revelling in his task. She was a beautiful woman, and he knew that he was not bad-looking himself. His instructions had been to make it obvious to Jarvis that he was interested. He decided to see how much he could wind him up before the evening was over. By the time the bill arrived, the atmosphere, along with Michael’s patience, had worn paper-thin. Letting Walker pay, he retrieved their coats from the concierge and made it obvious there would be no nightcap. Walker didn’t let this bother him in the slightest, stopping to kiss Lisa’s hand, like some fairy-tale prince, before the couple could escape onto the Munich streets.

“Mr Walker, thank you for dinner.”

“Are you sure you would not like a nightcap?”

“Sure. I have to work tomorrow.”

It was a lie, but Michael had had enough, and just wanted to get out of there. Taking Lisa’s hand, he pulled her in the direction of the Underground.

“Michael, Michael, slow down.”

“What a pillock!”

Striding towards the Undergrounds steps, Lisa stumbling to keep up, Michael made no attempt to disguise his feelings.

“How the hell are you going to work with that twat?”

Lisa was also somewhat perturbed by the evening. It was always nice to know that the boss had a soft spot for you, but this seemed like something else, and could very well prove a bit more difficult to handle.

“It was nothing, darling. Steve had too much to drink, that’s all.”

“He was all over you like a rash!”

“He was just trying to be nice, to make me feel like I am needed at the company.”

“Well, whatever he was doing, be careful with that one; he’s bad news.”

The rest of the way to the train, they both tried to calm down. Michael put his arm around his wife’s shoulder, and she pressed into him, her arm around his waist.

“There is no need to worry, you know. I’m a big girl, and I am not going anywhere.”

“I know, darling; he is just such a smarmy git.”

Munich’s underground system is still relatively new. Built in 1972 for the Olympic games, it is kept in pristine condition. But like any major European city, Munich is not without its dangers. Groups of youths regularly collected on the stairs and platforms of the stations. Their favourite pastime was intimidating innocent passers-by, using the underground network. As the couple descended the escalator to their underground line, it was clear that there was trouble ahead. The raised voices of young men could be clearly heard above the background hum of the station. Lisa pulled at Michael’s arm, ushering him back to the exit.

“Come on, we can get a taxi,” she urged.

Usually, that is exactly what he would do, but tonight, he found himself angered by the inconvenience.

I have had to put up with one prick all night. I am not going to let some louts get in my way, or change my plans, he complained to himself.

The group of four large teenagers were taking turns pushing and shoving a young man, who was trying desperately to protect his even younger girlfriend. Michael shrugged Lisa off and made a beeline for the trouble, leaving her watching, open-mouthed, as he sped off in the direction of the group. The youths were using the obligatory taunts and profanities.

“Is she a good fuck?” One of the group gestured with his hips. “You probably can’t satisfy her. She looks like a dirty little bitch to me,” he continued. “You need to try a real man, baby.” He grabbed his crotch.

Then their prey tried to make a break for it. Pushing the smallest member of the group to his knees, the boyfriend slung his girlfriend through the new gap, as if throwing a hammer expertly, letting her weight pull him free of the hateful mob. The bemused tormentors immediately sprang to life, chasing the fleeing pair, teeth bared, eyes wild. The gang hurled themselves into the hunt with shouts of laughter and a plethora of aggressive taunts.

“Get the bastards!”

“Get the little whore!”

The crowd rushed toward Michael, giving him little time to decide on a strategy. Letting the fleeing pair past him, a well-placed foot took the first of the gang members out, launching him into the air, his skull cracking hard against one of the Underground’s supporting pillars. The second didn’t fare much better; a straight left arm caught him full in the neck, Michael’s wrist crushed into the youth’s laryngeal prominence, better known as his Adam’s apple. The thyroid cartilage surrounding the youth’s larynx hammered into his neck, sending him into the foetal position, gasping for air. The largest member of the gang was able to stop his forward momentum before reaching Michael. The flash of a blade in his hand caused Lisa to scream Michael’s name.

“MICHAEL, look out!”

From her standpoint, she thought the youth had landed a blow. Michael sank back onto his right leg, and, bringing both arms up to form a cross, he blocked the swing of his attacker’s arm expertly. Trapping the knife hand, he pushed himself back upright, pressing the youth back and bringing his right knee up forcefully into his attacker’s groin. The youth let out a guttural cry, as Michael grasped his wrist. Twisting and ducking under his arm, the youth performed a forty-five degree fouetté, before landing hard on his back. Michael had the knife and sent it spinning onto the nearby tracks, before landing a precise punch to his victim’s solar plexus. Finished, the yob rolled up into a ball, the air lost from his lungs together with any last bit of fight he may have had. The final gang member watched all of this, aghast, unable to believe the speed and brutality of his friends’ demise, searching quickly for an escape route before taking flight down the platform. Michael stood for a second, assessing the situation. The bloodlust rose in him like a fury, and he was about to take up the pursuit when a uniformed guard flew past him. Lisa was at his side, her mouth working frantically to get him to answer her questions. Watching her curiously, he was able to hear her words, but totally unable to understand them. It was as if she were speaking a foreign language. The girl and her boyfriend were also back, together with more uniforms. But all this escaped him as Michael struggled to get a grip. He found himself stranded, unable to communicate with the people around him, rooted to the spot.

Perhaps one of the gang did land a blow, and he is hurt? Lisa worried.

Guiding him to a bench, she made him sit. His eyes were still staring straight out of the centre of his head, looking down the platform at something invisible to the rest of them.

“He is probably in shock,” the boyfriend offered by way of explanation.

A policeman appeared and knelt down in front of him, looking deep into Michael’s eyes. Gripping both his arms, he gave him a small shake.

“Hello, sir, are you all right? Have you been hurt?”

He searched Michael for wounds, but the gang had been no match. Michael watched the people milling around him, detached, separate—it felt like an out-of-body experience. As the fight began, something had taken over. An instinct inside him had guided his actions, and that was still in control.

“We should take him to Hospital,” the policeman said in Lisa’s direction.

“No!” Michael was back.

Still unsure of himself, he was certain of just one thing. No hospitals.