Meyer-Hofmann AG

47

Michael and Lisa were back in a Munich hotel room. It was nothing like the Bayerische Hof; but the Mercure Hotel offered them a clean, homely alternative, as well as a certain amount of anonymity. The brown speckled carpet in the bedroom had seen better days, and there were visible tracks where countless suitcases had been pushed and pulled to their respective beds. Opening the thick burgundy curtains, Michael had to smile at the empty streets that greeted him. It had been a spontaneous decision to switch hotels, moving from the respectable Four Seasons on Maximilian Street to the Mercure Hotel next to Munich’s main train station, but it was not one they had regretted. Despite the worn surfaces, the pair felt safer here than anywhere they had been since arriving in Germany. Hounded by the press and the establishment in equal measure since Michael had left the hospital, there was little they could do but play innocent. Günther Müller had been able to assure them they would not be arrested in the next few days. They were both suspected of being involved in the deaths of the men in Starnberg and Gallery street. He couldn’t give them any guarantees for the future.

Lisa sat on the side of the bed, finishing the crossword in a Times newspaper she had picked up from the station newsstand.

“Darling, don’t you want to sit down?” she asked.

“I have spent enough time sitting down or lying on my back recently.”

“Do you want to talk?”

“What is there to talk about? It feels like a dream to me, Lisa.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just can’t comprehend what happened to me, and I am shit scared that it may start all over again.”

“I thought you said it was over? That you had beaten him? That he couldn’t come back? Michael!”

“I did. I mean, it is. That doesn’t change the fact that I can still remember him. Who he was, what he believed, what he felt. Lisa, I am afraid that I could become more like him.”

“No, darling. Don’t worry, I know you. That is why he failed. You are a good man.”

“Thanks.” Michael’s voice was wistful.

Lisa walked over to the window and stood behind him. There was no great view, just a damp Munich side street and city traffic. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she squeezed him tightly, pressing the side of her face against his back.

“It is going to be all right, Michael. I promise!”