Frankfurt am MainApril 25
“Martin, Martin, what are you doing to me? Haven’t you reconsidered yet?” Slowly but surely, the fake-friendly voice of Michal Sykora, the lobbyist, was starting to get on Martin’s nerves. Now, wrinkling his nose, he put the cell phone as far as possible away from his ear, holding it in two fingers as if his hand had possession of a particularly repulsive toad, all the while gesturing at his wife to turn down the noise emanating from her laptop. Helena ignored him.
“And how come you just now thought of me all of a sudden? If I remember correctly, it’s been at least … a month and a half since we last spoke. So you still haven’t found some dumb ox to do that job you were offering me so vehemently?”
That got Helena’s attention. She cut off Motorhead’s energetic Ac
