White tablecloths, fine tea glasses, pastel cushions. The view across the dunes stretched far out over the Baltic Sea. Only a few meters away, gulls drifted above the glittering water. Early afternoon, the sun warm but never intrusive. Everything about this place spoke of luxury. And of discretion at the highest level.
Annika sat motionless, legs crossed, Versace sandals on her feet, a light silk dress of gold and cream with the matching jacket draped loosely over her shoulders. Her chestnut hair was pinned up, a single strand falling across her temple. Her sunglasses mirrored the sea, but her gaze went far beyond it.
Beside her, Lukas. Tailored linen trousers, pale shirt pressed to perfection, every button closed. A titanium wristwatch understated yet coveted among collectors. His posture appeared relaxed, almost lazy, but the eyes behind his tinted glasses registered every detail on the terrace.
Both wore wireless earpieces. From Annika’s iPhone a female voice, clear and precise:
“The examination in Stralsund is complete. Coding confirmed. Brain scan shows significant shifts in the temporal region, correlating with autobiographical memory and semantic matrix. Pattern corresponds to the established self-core. Stable.”
Lukas raised his glass casually. “She remembers?”
“Fragmented. Language, terms, spatial orientation. Neural patterns respond coherently.”
Annika arched a brow. “First fracture between residual self and host?”
“Not yet measurable. Coexistence remains unusually calm. Transfer proceeds.”
“And the serum?”
“Still active and detectable. Clinic reports a substance of unknown signature. Cannot be classified conventionally. No immune response. Stabilization of central vital parameters. Given the extent of organ damage, I give her two, at most three days. Then the serum is spent.”
Annika pushed her iced coffee aside. “Retrieval?”
“Under way. Lars and Felix on site tomorrow. Today: Usedom segment.”
“And Tiedemann?”
“Cleanup complete. Meike’s study empty. No witnesses, no digital traces. Contents secured in the bunker for destruction or archive.”
Annika twirled a strand of hair in feigned boredom. “The two officers. Intervene?”
“No. Not yet.”
“And Tiedemann? He looks unsteady.”
“He survived.”
“And if he starts asking the right questions? Or the officers?”
“Then someone higher up will stumble. And when a fall is deep enough, it sometimes breaks the neck.”
“Good. Further instructions will follow.”
A faint click. The line went dead.
Annika reached for her glass, her hair catching the sunlight. She smiled at Lukas. “To quiet exits.”
Lukas returned the smile. “And to expensive coffee at a safe distance.”