The Method (18 page)

The Method, he says when he finally breaks the silence, is the country’s immune system. And the Method has identified the latest threat. The virus is being destroyed. No one can escape the ability of a healthy body to heal itself. Santé, and goodnight.

Already the sofa is empty and Kramer has left the
studio
. His exit conveys a message that everyone can read: words must be followed by deeds. The meaning of Kramer’s proclamation is clear to all. It marks the beginning of the end in the case of Mia Holl.

IT IS CRAMPED
inside Mia’s cell, as if the absence of furniture has shrunk the four walls. There are no chairs at the missing table. A lack of bed occupies the space beneath the window, and there isn’t a wardrobe to hide the absent shelves. The whole room is replete with clinical cleanliness.

After only four days Mia is ready to welcome anyone into her cell. She needs help in occupying a space that even the furniture has abandoned. Kramer suits this purpose perfectly. A room that Kramer enters isn’t empty. He brings the suggestion of furniture with him, or maybe he
is
the furniture, elegant but functional. Mia struggles to hide her excitement when he walks through the door.

‘And your theories,’ she says by way of a greeting, ‘are as colourless and odourless as you are. They remind me of filtered water.’

‘I’m glad you liked the programme – I specifically asked them to let you watch.’

‘Something tells me your proclamation didn’t achieve the same impact as mine.’

‘Which is why I’m here – the two of us need to make some progress, take a step in the right direction.’

‘The two of us?’ Mia can’t help laughing.

‘Why not? You allowed me in here: you seem perfectly willing to talk. Besides, isn’t there something glorious about the clash of our manifestos? You and I, warriors on opposing sides, visors lowered and weapons in our hands. Reason versus emotion. The rigour of my logic against the maelstrom of your feelings. The masculine versus the feminine, if you like.’

‘A primitive analogy, Kramer, and beneath your intelligence. Besides, I haven’t lowered my visor; I’ve opened it. And unless I’m much mistaken, the people are cheering me on.’

‘If only they would content themselves with cheering. You’ve heard the news, I assume? The PRI is threatening to kill innocent people if the Method doesn’t agree to your release.’

‘You can’t fool me that easily, Kramer. The innocent people you’re so afraid for: they’re cheering outside. I’ve got nothing to do with the PRI.’

‘Society will hold you responsible if the terrorists strike.’

Mia laughs again. ‘It’s funny, isn’t it? You want to paint me as the aggressor, and what happens? You cover me with blood. Just look at me, Kramer!’

‘Gladly. The split lip is rather fetching, by the way.’

Mia leans back against the wall and spreads out her arms; clad from head to toe in white she looks like a crucified angel.

‘
Your
suit is cut from the finest cloth,’ she says. ‘Mine is made of paper. I didn’t lock myself in this cell; I didn’t call for my arrest. All I did was make a pronouncement
that
you
chose to publish. You’ve got friends in high places. They let you stroll in here, while my lawyer speaks to me through a screen. Go ahead and hold me responsible, but maybe you should ask yourself who’s guiltier: the fly swatter or the fly.’

‘Isn’t it fascinating how Christian mythology continues to haunt our ideas? Weakness isn’t the same as innocence, yet humans persist in conflating the two. David takes a swipe at Goliath, and the rabble cheers for the underdog, as if its inferiority should be prized.’

‘If Goliath had some manners, he’d offer us a drink and somewhere to sit so we could have a civilised conversation. And besides, I’m hungry. Is deprivation supposed to change a person’s principles?’

‘I beg your pardon?’ says Kramer, confused. Looking around, he seems to notice for the first time that the room is unfurnished. He pushes off from the wall and disappears through the door. Mia, eyes closed and smiling, listens to the voices in the corridor, one of which, although muffled, is diabolically piercing. A moment later Kramer returns with two folding chairs.

‘I’m sorry, Frau Holl. If I were running this place, I’d dismiss those barbarians on the spot.’

‘Don’t apologise, Herr Kramer. They’re only doing their job.’

‘Sarcasm is the sign of a healthy mind; I’m glad you’re bearing up. Please, take a seat.’

Gallantly he pulls up a chair for Mia and sits across from her at a suitable distance. Once seated, Mia stretches her legs, draws them in again and crosses them at the ankles. Her hands are linked behind her chair.

‘You have to learn everything in here from the beginning, even how to sit. The alien sensation of brushing one’s teeth with a prison toothbrush, the awkwardness of peeing while standing, the science of putting on paper overalls … Even language, when seldom used, is a difficult dance.’

‘You dance extremely well,’ says Kramer steadily. ‘Now, if I could ask a few questions …’

‘Fire away.’

‘You told your lawyer that you’ve never felt so close to your brother.’

Mia raises her eyebrows. ‘Am I to understand that you’re bugging my conversations?’

‘Of course. You’re an enemy of the Method, hence the use of emergency powers.’

‘I’m not an enemy of the Method, I’m a suicide risk.’

‘It comes to the same thing.’

‘Of course,’ says Mia sagely.

‘I was wondering how you would describe your brother’s legacy – what did he leave to
you
personally?’

A guard appears at the door with a tray bearing two steaming cups and a couple of tubes of food. Kramer rises and relieves him of the tray.

‘Allow me.’ Respectfully he places the tubes in Mia’s lap. He puts the cup of hot water on the floor and adds some lemon – three drops, just as Mia likes it. She follows his movements greedily as if the ritual of being served could satisfy a hunger more overwhelming than her physical need.

‘Moritz didn’t leave me any material possessions, if that’s what you mean,’ she says at last. ‘But in spiritual terms, he gave me a lot.’

‘Would you say that you’re doing his will?’

Mia sips her water cautiously, puts down the cup and opens the first tube. ‘All his life he did his best to bring me round to his way of thinking.’

‘And he’s succeeded?’

‘I suppose so. Rather late in the day, you might say.’

The tube is unscrewed and Mia can’t control herself any longer. Kramer watches pityingly as she squeezes its contents into her mouth.

‘After his death, you went down to the river by yourself. You wanted to be close to him.’

‘We started going there as kids,’ says Mia through a mouthful of protein paste. ‘He liked to call it our cathedral.’

‘How touching.’ Kramer waves a hand, allowing Mia to keep the second protein tube. ‘Was anyone else involved?’

‘No one.’

‘Excellent, exactly as I thought! One last question. From our current perspective, Moritz is a kind of martyr, don’t you think?’

‘Well,’ says Mia, ‘it depends.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Kramer leans towards her. ‘I didn’t quite catch that. Could you possibly speak up?’

‘If it were to come to a coup,’ says Mia loudly, ‘Moritz would go down in history as a martyr. Which is a strange idea, by the way.’

‘Marvellous.’ Kramer produces a recording device from his inside pocket and switches it off. Then he sinks back in his chair, stretches his arms and checks his cuffs. ‘I think that’s just about everything. All I need is your signature.’

Mia stops chewing. ‘My signature?’

‘You need to sign your confession. You’ll appreciate that the Method is very sensitive about such things.’

‘My confession?’

‘I meant what I said about making some progress. In your situation, it’s undeniably for the best.’

‘Not like that, Kramer.
I
make the rules.’

‘Please, Frau Holl, there’s no need to get upset. If I can summarise the main points of our conversation, perhaps you’ll understand …’ He pauses, sipping his hot water unhurriedly and gazing into his cup. Then he changes his bearing and leans into an imaginary microphone. ‘Just moments ago, Method Defence confirmed that Moritz Holl has been identified as the former leader of a terrorist cell known as the Snails. The group met regularly in the woods to the south-east of the city, referred to by the Snails as the
cathedral
. Also part of the group was a certain Walter Hannemann, from whom Moritz received a bone marrow transplant and who was known to Moritz as the man who saved his life.’

Mia wrinkles her face as if she is about to burst out laughing. ‘You’re out of your mind!’

‘Are you aware,’ asks Kramer, ‘that Hannemann took his life? It’s tragic, really.’

‘You’ve got his death on your conscience as well.’

‘Hannemann is on your conscience, not mine.’ Kramer pulls out a piece of paper and unfolds it with a torturous lack of haste. He paces around the cell, deciding where to stand. ‘Are you listening, Frau Holl? It goes like this: “I, Mia Holl, worked with my brother to come up with the plan. It was simple yet ingenious. Hannemann was
to
murder Sibylle. As we anticipated, the crime was attributed to my brother, whose DNA was found on the deceased. The Snails regarded suicide as the apogee of personal freedom and Moritz was obsessed with the idea of martyring himself for the cause. After he was found guilty, he killed himself in prison with my help.”’ Kramer glances up and smiles at Mia. ‘We’ve got it on camera. The fishing twine, you know.’

He traces a movement in the air as if he were threading something long and thin through a tiny opening. When Mia tries to leap up, he raises his hand, stopping her with a priestly gesture.

‘One moment, please. I’m almost done. “The scheme was designed to provoke a legal scandal and shake the Method to its core. After Moritz’s death, I took over as leader of the Snails. It was Moritz’s will. The other members of the Snails are known to me only by their code names – their identities were kept secret for their own protection. My contact person was an operative known as
No one
.” That’s right, isn’t it?’ Kramer pauses. ‘Incidentally,
No one
is a code name for a younger colleague of mine, Herr Wörmer from
What We All Think
. Most regrettable.’

Mia is on her feet. She rushes at Kramer, but he leaps up and catches her fists. For a few seconds they wrestle in silence, then Mia surrenders and slumps against him. It is almost like a lovers’ embrace.

‘Sometimes you realise that the smell of another human being is a wonderful thing,’ she says softly.

‘You’re a good girl.’ Kramer strokes her hair gently. ‘A brave girl. A lonely girl.’

At that, Mia pushes him away with both hands and tugs wildly at her overalls. She smooths her hair. ‘You’ll never get away with it.’

Kramer shakes his head slightly as he reaches into his trouser pocket and pulls out a plastic bag, which he proceeds to pull over his right hand.

‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ he says. ‘Haven’t you ever wondered why Moritz was on a blind date with a woman who was murdered by his stem cell donor that very night?’

‘There’s such a thing as coincidence.’

‘Even for scientists?’

‘You know very well that it wasn’t a terrorist plot.’

‘Really? It fits together beautifully, don’t you think? Very convincing.’ Smiling, Kramer transfers the empty protein tubes to his plastic bag, carefully avoiding any contact with his skin. ‘Let the poison of doubt do its work. At least you’ll have something to think about in your spare time.’

‘You’re beasts!’ shrieks Mia. ‘You’re cold-blooded murderers!’ She points in what she thinks is the direction of the prison’s main door. ‘I’ll tell the people outside about your criminal system; they’ll smash down the doors!’

‘The people outside,’ says Kramer, pointing politely in the opposite direction, ‘will believe what they want to believe. So you’re determined not to sign, Frau Holl?’

‘I expected better of you, Kramer – more sophistication, fewer outright lies. It’s humiliating to be hitched to such a rickety wagon. You really
don’t
have a conscience at all.’

Kramer has placed the plastic package of tubes into
his
bag. He turns to look at Mia and smiles: his face shows no trace of satisfaction or scorn.

‘Why don’t we call it a sense of honour? Not so long ago you accused me of thinking that all political systems were essentially the same. Let’s assume you were right. Let’s also assume that we agree on this point. Whatever the system, everywhere in the world you see unhappy, unsmiling faces. In our system, there’s a respectable proportion of smiles. Isn’t that enough, Frau Holl?’

‘Moritz had to die for a smile?’ says Mia through gritted teeth. ‘Moritz and Hannemann – and whoever you’ve lined up next.’

Kramer ignores her objections. ‘Anyone with a talent for analytical thinking must resign himself to living in a vacuum – or choose a path. You made a choice, Frau Holl, but decisions are only real when you’re faced with their consequences. The consequences take hold of you, and they don’t let you go. The biggest danger is opportunism and the only defence is a sense of honour. I’m bound to my cause by my sense of honour and the same is true for you.’