Meyer-Hofmann AG

46

Günther Müller had found the same files on an SD card in one of Britt Peterson’s Nikon cameras as had been found on the Swarovski USB stick.

Britt was a very clever lady, he thought as he scrolled through the card’s contents on his computer screen. Without her, the world would have been in a real mess right now.

It read like something from a science fiction movie. Britt had put together a comprehensive piece of work. Starting with a detailed history of Meyer-Hofmann’s creation at the end of the second world war. The file had been put together chronologically, starting with Professor Furtner’s original notes and a description of the ‘resurrection process’. Then came a list of the young women from the insemination program, accompanied by medical records and Furtner’s scribbled notes next to each mother’s name. That had all taken place at an Army Hospital close to Nuremberg in Southern Germany, and it was there that the children came into the world. The first two years of their lives had been catalogued in detail. Blood types, hair colour, physical markings, and even a rudimentary DNA test had been run on the children. Furtner had even attempted to describe how the children may look in five, ten, and fifteen years. The foster families were spread around the world and rarely in allied countries. From South America to Asia, it must have been a massive logistical problem at a time of war. Even more amazing was the network of safe houses, sleepers, and spies they had used to move the children.

If the allies had got their hands on this at the time…

The report ended with their reworked agenda and plans for a Fourth Reich. She had pieced together their influence in leading companies, as well as their broad recruitment of public figures.

Each member of the board had a personal family tree, linking them to their father or grandfather in the Third Reich. It tracked the Meyer-Hofmann children’s journey across the world as well as their indubitable return to the Fatherland.

You have to marvel at human ingenuity, he thought, shaking his head.

Meyer-Hofmann had seen itself as above the law, and its list of offences covered all serious crimes. Rape, murder, bribery, embezzlement, kidnapping, tax evasion, fraud, burglary, obstruction of justice, and, of course, treason at the top of the list.

What greater crime could you commit against your country than these men had committed? Twice!

Britt Petersen had documented them all. It had not taken long after the contents of the USB stick were passed to Interpol for the world to react. Meyer-Hofmann’s assets had been frozen, and their management taken into custody. Many, including Fredrik Petersen, were now being held in prison cells around the globe. He was, however, one of the few board members who would spend any time behind bars. The clean up job had caused the death of many of the others. It had been an amazing feat, to convince and coordinate a response from Governments as diverse as Israel and Iran. The assaults had been simultaneous and global. As the offices of HRH were being searched in New York, the Austrian Army was assaulting Meyer-Hofmann’s headquarters in Ellmau. Iranian forces had taken out all Meyer-Hofmann units on their territory and local militia carried out the clean up in Syria, Egypt, and the Lebanon. Snipers and their spotters were arrested in London, Berlin, Rome, and Paris. Over two hundred politicians had been taken into custody. More than five hundred people in public service would be questioned in the coming weeks and months. The majority lived and worked in Europe, and it was a sad indictment of a proud Europe’s true morality.

The only loose note was the disappearance of Dr Ecker and his son, both of whom had evaded the forces in Austria. Günther was sure that it was only a matter of time before they were captured, but they were an unwanted loose end after an otherwise successful operation.

Their trial will be a doozy, he thought.

Monika Keller entered her boss’s office without knocking. She had two paper cups full of steaming hot coffee.

“Well, Boss, is it over?”

“I am afraid, my dear Monika, our work has just begun. We are still looking for the doctor and his son. They escaped with about ten second-generation clones and the entire third generation.”

“Where do you think they are?”

“Probably still in Austria. I think there is another facility somewhere near Vienna.”

“And then?”

“Wait until we can see what is hidden under the Odeonsplatz buildings. That alone should keep us busy for the rest of our careers.”

“They arrested Steve Walker this morning. It took them five hours to empty his offices of all the paperwork and computers,” Monika added.

“Yes, I know, and don’t forget the mayor’s connections to Meyer-Hofmann. He doesn’t seem to have paid for a meal on his credit card since he came to power!”

They both laughed.

“We shouldn’t laugh, Monika. We both helped to elect him!”

“Not me, I voted for the other guy!”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what they will all say.”

Günther leant back in his chair and took a long slurp of the hot coffee, wincing as it scalded the roof of his mouth.

“You know, it’s sad, Monika,” he said, spluttering. “This country was doing so well, and now we are going to have to spend another fifty years apologising for the same madmen.”

“Do you think so?”

“I am afraid I do.”