“Okay, but let me know if you need anything. I will be in the kitchen.”
Back on his feet, he let the taps run, bathing his face and forehead with cold water. His head was pulsing now. Each throb caused him to narrow his eyes, fighting back the pain and nausea. He forced himself to remember. Somehow, remembering helped him to keep calm, to get more of a grip on the rebellion he felt. Then the pain struck again, throwing him to the ground. On all fours, both hands on the slate grey tiled floor, moving back and forth like an animal, he fought the pain with all his might. The gasp he had made had, fortunately, been masked by the sound of running water. Thankfully, the concerned voice from outside the door never came. Then yet another blast of pain and his body retched and contorted. Michael Jarvis opened his eyes and stared down at the mess on the floor. He had ridden the pain back into consciousness, used it to bully his way back into control. He had no idea how he had known to do this, but it seemed that on some level, nature was still on his side. Pulling himself to his feet, he staggered to the bathroom door, unlocking and pulling it open. Still not in complete control of his extremities, he tilted himself forward to get some momentum, bouncing off the walls and doors as he made his charge towards the kitchen. The pain helped him to keep charge of his insubordinate body, and he welcomed it as a necessary evil. Ricocheting off the hall wall into the living room, he destroyed a silver-coloured table lamp, sending it crashing onto the hardwood floor. The lampshade buckled on impact, detonating the lamp’s base. Alerted by the noise, Lisa rushed to her husband’s aid, just in time to watch a spectacular backward somersault over the black leather sofa, narrowly missing the glass coffee table. Michael came to rest wedged between the two.
“Darling, darling, what’s the matter?”
He could see her screaming the words out, her face wild with fear, but the sounds were muffled to his ears, his brain struggling to decipher the information.
“Help me! Help me, Lisa!”
Pulling the mobile from her pocket, she dialled 999, before realising the number would be of little help to her in Germany. Forcing herself to be calm, she redialled 112 and prayed the number was correct.
“It’s going to be okay, Michael, hang on. It’s going to be okay.”
Hoping she was right, she calmed herself again for the conversation with the paramedics. The efficient German emergency services answered on the third ring, switching immediately into the English language, after Lisa’s first rushed attempt to communicate their situation failed.
“Please keep calm and tell me the nature of your emergency.”
“It’s my husband—he needs an ambulance. He is suffering extreme headaches and losing his balance.”
“Very good, madam. Where is your husband now?”
“He’s in the living room, on the floor. But he can’t stand up!”
“Can you tell me if he is conscious, and breathing normally?”
“Yes, yes, please hurry up.”
“If you would give me your address, I will despatch an emergency vehicle immediately.”
“God, we’ve just moved in. I don’t know the address exactly. It’s in the Olympic Park.”
“Could you give me your phone number?”
“Yes, it’s 0797 5532348, but it’s an English phone. Just a minute.” Lisa spun around, remembering the flat papers she had put in a kitchen drawer. She rushed into the kitchen, her phone pressed against her right ear the whole time. Fumbling through the kitchen drawers, she pulled the papers out, and was relieved to see the flat’s address, printed in large dark letters on the front of the document.
“The address is Nadi Street 6, Olympic Park.”
“Excellent, well done, please stay on the line until the ambulance arrives, and inform me of any changes in your husband’s condition.”
Lisa pushed the coffee table to the side and placed a cushion under Michael’s head, in an attempt to make him more comfortable. When she was finished, she took his hand and tried to force a smile.
“Lisa, I can’t remember me!”
“What? Just relax, darling, the ambulance is on its way.”
“No, you don’t understand. I haven’t got much time. They drugged me.”
“Who? Who drugged you?”
She could tell that he must be in some pain. Michael’s eyes always became smaller when he was in pain. His pupils were tiny, and his face was pale, the colour washed out of it. But what he was saying was even more disturbing.
He had been acting strangely since returning from the club. Could they have given him something? Drugged him? But why?
“Who drugged you, Michael?”
He was losing control again. He could feel his dominance diminishing, his world slipping away. He felt himself falling, sliding into oblivion, a bottomless well, unable to halt his descent, the world’s lights and sounds becoming a distant pinpoint somewhere above him. The body’s pain abating, its muscles relaxing, Michael accepted defeat. All he could do now was prepare himself for the next opportunity, the next battle.
Hofmann squeezed the woman’s hand and sat up.
“No, Michael, lie down; they will be here any minute.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine, don’t fuss!”
He pushed her to the side as he stood up, and Lisa lost her balance, sitting down hard on the sofa. Staring up at her husband, who was now standing over her, her expression was a picture of shock and surprise.
“Michael, what are you doing?”
“I’m all right! I’m fine now. I just need a little time. Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you.”
They looked at one another, uncertain what to do or say. The doorbell saved them. Hofmann seized the opportunity, making his escape in the direction of the front door. Lisa remained on the sofa, unable to decide what had just happened.
What was the matter with her husband? She called after him, but he was already in conversation with the paramedics.
Was he ill? The drugs! Lisa was up and on her way to the door, the phone still clutched in her hand. The muffled voice of the operator was pleading to be heard. Michael was at the door, trying hard to persuade the paramedics that he was fine and didn’t need treatment.
“Wait, Michael, let them help you. They could do a blood test. Maybe they can tell if you have been drugged?”
The young paramedic had almost given up trying to persuade his belligerent patient to let him help, when he heard Lisa’s remarks.
“Drugs? What drugs, sir?”
“There are no drugs. I was having an episode. I didn’t know what I was saying.”
“You said you had been drugged,” Lisa interjected, hoping her reminder would help him see sense.
“I’m perfectly fine!”
“Sir, I am afraid I will have to insist. Either you come with us to the hospital or we will wait for the police to arrive, and they can decide.”
Hofmann scowled at Lisa.
“Okay, okay, I will go with you, but you stay here.” He turned and pointed a finger at Lisa that left her no less clear about his feelings at that moment than if he he had pointed a gun at her.
He might as well have shot her. The shock of that image physically rocked her. I was only trying to help! The tears welled in her eyes again.
“Please let me go with you. I want to be with you!”
He pulled his coat from the stand and stepped out of the door, without looking back.
“Let’s get this over with!” He gestured towards the paramedics and headed for the staircase.
It was a fifteen-minute drive to the nearest general infirmary, Rechts der Isar, even with the blue light and siren. The paramedics insisted on securing him to the gurney for the duration of the trip, which agitated Hofmann even more.