With the arrival of Inselheim and his menacing companions, the team gradually stopped what they were doing and took notice. Brunswick approached Inselheim while Vidrik and the rest were busy studying the place.
“Can we talk in private?” she whispered.
Inselheim noticed Vidrik’s attention was elsewhere. He nodded and followed Brunswick to her office.
“You want to tell me what the hell is going on, Michael?” she asked, closing the door and leaning against it with her arms crossed.
Inselheim sighed and rubbed his eyes, unsure where to begin. When he was away, in Berlin or elsewhere, Brunswick ran the show. Inselheim had known her since university, so he trusted her unconditionally, and she was the most capable person he knew. Still, how was he going to break this to her? He was numb, and still reeling from his ordeal. After he was released from lockup, his leg was treated by one of Kalakia’s private doctors. He was allowed half a day at home under supervision to sleep and prepare for the flight. With Kalakia’s men standing by, Inselheim made the call to Brunswick to meet them at the airport but was forbidden to divulge anything else. Later they reached Shymkent Airport where Brunswick was waiting without a clue why. She had waited long enough.
“Those are Kalakia’s men. It’s over,” he said with a flat voice. “They know everything.”
“Oh no,” said Brunswick, cupping her hand over her mouth. She looked at the floor and hesitated in her speech, letting out a quiet, muffled groan then putting her fingertips to her lips. “How did this happen?” she asked.
“They were tracking me.”
“Shit.”
“Ja. Shit.”
“Did they hurt you? I noticed you limping.”
Inselheim lowered his gaze to the floor while recalling what Vidrik did to him. Tears glazed his eyes. He nodded.
“Oh, Michael,” said Brunswick, walking forward and placing a hand on his shoulder.
Inselheim wiped his eyes and collapsed onto the sofa behind him along the wall. With pouted lips, he looked up at the ceiling to avoid Brunswick’s gaze.
“I’ve never seen you like this,” said Brunswick.
“We were so close,” said Inselheim. “So damn close.”
“What do they have planned?”
“I don’t know,” said Inselheim, throwing up his hands. “Obviously they’re taking over.”
“Bastards,” said Brunswick with a sharp voice. “No,” she added, shaking her head defiantly. “Not going to happen. We’ve worked too hard for this.”
Inselheim sighed.
“It’s over, Kimberley. They have us. We give them what they want, or they kill us.”
Brunswick gazed into space and ran her tongue side to side over her bottom lip, the way she did when she was thinking hard. Inselheim had already predicted her reaction. First, she would resist the news outright. Then she would carefully measure the situation including all facts and possibilities. Finally, she would enforce her will. One way or another.
Inselheim had spent the flight over contemplating the mammoth task of talking Brunswick out of doing anything crazy. He had known Brunswick for over thirty years, and their relationship was as strong as it was complex. He learnt of her true nature the day they met at a mutual friend’s dinner party, during their university days in Bavaria in the mid-80s. Their group was discussing the state of East Germany when Brunswick chimed in. The communist regime would not last into the next century, she declared. Inselheim snickered at the petite brunette with the short fringe, who until then had barely registered on his radar. The deathly stare she shot him vaporised his smugness. After a brief sexual affair, their intellectual discussions overshadowed their desire to go to bed together. Inselheim joined his father at the company soon after meeting Brunswick and was adamant that she should come along. Brunswick understood politics and human nature better than anyone, as well as how to wage war in the boardroom. During Brunswick’s rise in the company, Inselheim had never seen her back away from a fight.
“Mass production is going to take time,” said Brunswick, turning her attention toward Inselheim. “And there’s still hypersonic missile testing. I can reach out to our contacts in the federal government and have them establish a production factory. If we move quic—“
“Kimberley, stop,” said Inselheim. “Please. These guys have eyes and ears everywhere. Everywhere. They’ll find out. And when they do, we’re dead.”
“Are we?” said Brunswick with a raised eyebrow.
Inselheim noticed her stare sharpen beyond the point of negotiation and his despair gave way to dread.
“Since when does Michael Inselheim give up so easily?” she asked. “Hmm? Where’s Mr. Risk Taker?”
“You don’t know what they’re capable of,” said Inselheim, his lips pressed together. “They broke me.”
“So we’ll glue you back together. We’ve been here before. How many hostile governments have we dealt with? How many violent rebel-fighters?”
“This isn’t some militia group, Kimberley. Even they know their limits. These people don’t have any.”
Inselheim turned his ears toward a series of approaching footsteps. The door swung open violently and Vidrik stepped through. The sound of shuffles and men shouting outside came through the door, as well as yells of distress.
“Everyone to the back!” yelled a man outside. “Move!”
“There you are,” said Vidrik, closing the door behind him. “Slippery fish. Did I say you could leave?”
Inselheim’s body tensed up and his mind went blank at the sight of his tormentor. Brunswick crossed her arms.
“What’s going on outside?” she asked, raising her chin and peering toward the door.
“If you hadn’t slithered away, you would know,” said Vidrik.
“This is our company. Why do we need permission to speak to each other?” she said.
Vidrik tilted his head and his gaze turned blank. He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a silver pistol, flicked the safety and pointed the gun at Brunswick’s head. She flinched and her eyes widened. She slowly uncrossed her arms and lifted her shoulders. Inselheim sat
