Read Online The Stolen by T. S. Learner - Free Book Online

sinking heart Matthias watched her sashay into the reception room; beautiful women terrified him, and it was still a surprise to him that he was attractive to women. As it was, his wife had originally seduced him, and in total, he’d only known a couple of women.
One like that would eat me for breakfast then spit me out for tea
, he concluded, determined not to be distracted. Through the half-open door he could see the rows of journalists, some seated already, dictaphones and notebooks at the ready. Now he felt the onset of stage fright. He glanced down at his presentation notes –
IBM can give them statistics, grind out the figures, but can they give them innovation?
No, Matthias reminded himself, beginning to pump up his confidence, Bern laboratories might present a good angle on the esoteric application of superconductivity, but when it came to commercial application… He tried to dismiss an intrusive sense of reality that threatened to undermine his bravado.
We will attract money but that might involve compromise and am I ready to compromise?
he wondered.
To sell out, to open Pandora’s box on the whole question of superconductive weapons, even if the future of the company is jeopardised?
    Just then Jannick hurried out, his pasty face framed by thinning white-blond hair, exuding a kind of uncoordinated anxiety.
    â€˜Is Rolls Royce here yet?’ he asked. ‘We can’t delay much longer – Schmidt from
Der
Stern
has begun to mutter about trumped-up theatrics.’ Arguably the most important guest of all, the rep from the aviation department of British Rolls Royce Group – superconductivity potentially having a direct impact on future aviation – hadn’t arrived yet. They were interrupted by the ping of an elevator. Both Matthias and Jannick swung round as a tall, extremely thin man in a Savile Row suit, swinging a briefcase, stepped out of the elevator and hurried into the conference room. He was followed by a sinewy, deeply tanned compact man – who paused, smiled at the two scientists then, after pointing at his nametag, joined the others waiting behind the door.
    Matthias swung back to Jannick. ‘Destin Viscon, International Alliance Industries? Never heard of him.’
    â€˜French, I’m guessing. Ready, Herr Professor?’
    â€˜As ready as I’ll ever be.’ He started towards the door but Jannick stopped him.
    â€˜Wait! The scarf…’ the Dane said. Reluctantly, Matthias pulled the ratty multi-coloured scarf off and handed it over.
    Â 

    Â 
    Klauser stared at the blank page he’d just inserted into his typewriter then at the window, the bottom of which was misting up with condensation – it had started snowing. Finally, with a sigh, he looked across at last year’s calendar that still hung on the back of the door – 1981. January was an impossibly buxom brunette posing on a sunlit beach in a purple bikini. There was something wholesomely old-fashioned about her allure that reminded him of his youth. Behind her an ocean wave about to crash hung suspended for all eternity.
That’s how summers used to feel – as if they were never going to end,
he thought.
    Also on the desk was a page of hand-scribbled notes: four names linked in a flow chart.
    The watch manufacturer – Christoph von Holindt
    The murdered gypsy –Yojo?
    The priest – Father Naverres
    The banker – Thomas Mueller
    The meeting in the graveyard?
    It read like some perverse shopping list, Klauser decided, as he got up and pulled out an old plastic yo-yo he’d inherited from his son after the divorce. Slipping the knot over his index finger, he started to play with it as he strolled round the room. It was his method of brainstorming. After five laps he realised he’d reached a mental impasse with the case. Reluctantly he wound the yo-yo back up. There was one thing, and one thing only, that would empty his mind enough for the next