designed to inflame the small crowd even more.
Thomas stared at the floor the whole time and squeezed his father’swrist, trying to calm him down, but his father took no notice.
‘Those rich guys have no shame,’ a young woman called out, cuddling her little boy.
‘No shame,’ his father roared.
In the expansive boardroom Thomas sank sweating into his regular chair, which was a bit higher than the others. The white light struck his face. He had asked for the lights to be changed several times, because lighting that imitated daylight was unbearable.
Indeed, it seemed that Frau Stein was cleverer than he had thought. Now he understood why she had turned up on the very day the news broke about Vom Rath’s death. The woman was a nuisance who had haunted him since childhood. He would gladly turn her over to the mercies of Hermann and his pals—not that those good-for-nothings would know how to get the job done.
It was almost seven, and Carlson Mailer hadn’t reached the office yet. Which was strange, because the meeting with Daimler-Benz had preoccupied Carlson, who was still, at least officially, the director of Milton. In fact, he and Thomas ran the company together, but Carlson, ‘the bosses’ man’, always had the last say. He was Thomas’s age, a tall American with short hair and the jawbone of a predator. Enormous boredom lurked in his black eyes and always made Thomas want to interest him in something. More than anything, though, Thomas was outraged by the way people admired Carlson because he made them doubt their right to take up his time. Even the clients were in awe of him. Thomas had long since understood that this human dynamic—which went beyond business connections, contracts, research documents—lacked any rhyme or reason. Carlson Mailer had a special gift for seeing into people’s souls and motivating them with the urge to please him, even if it contradicted all business logic. The man was admired simply because he existed, even though he hadn’t had a single brilliant idea his whole life.
Unlike Carlson, Thomas was a man who advanced in leaps. About a year after he joined Milton, an exciting period began when he set upthe Department of German Consumer Psychology. The department went out and won clients, but within a year his energy had begun to drain away. He started to imagine that nothing new would ever happen again. One day followed the next and he didn’t understand where the time had gone.
The summer of 1929 triggered his meteoric ascent in the company. The senior directors of Milton went to the Ibero-American Exhibition in Seville, and he was chosen to join them as the representative of the German office. Frau Tschammer, who had not been invited, was insulted and threatened to resign.
‘Frau Tschammer, I don’t understand,’ Thomas said. ‘When I come back, I’ll tell you everything. We’ll even take pictures for you. It’ll be just as if you were there.’
On that fateful trip to Spain the idea that was to change his life took shape in his mind: he was standing between Jack Fiske and Carlson Mailer on the second floor of Plaza de España, the splendid building that had been constructed in honour of the exhibition. As he touched the terracotta tiles on the wall, he looked down to the ground level, where there were benches decorated with maps of Spain and its regions. A hot wave flooded his body. He closed his eyes and saw a similar plaza in his imagination, which would be the centre of the Milton Company, and they, the managers, were standing above it between the arches, while at their feet were the branches of the French, Spanish and English Consumer Departments of Psychology.
Two years passed before the German office once again settled, under the leadership of Carlson Mailer, who had replaced Jack Fiske as the director of Milton Berlin. At the right moment Thomas had laid out his great expansion plan before him, in this very room. Carlson frittered away two months
Thomas stared at the floor the whole time and squeezed his father’swrist, trying to calm him down, but his father took no notice.
‘Those rich guys have no shame,’ a young woman called out, cuddling her little boy.
‘No shame,’ his father roared.
In the expansive boardroom Thomas sank sweating into his regular chair, which was a bit higher than the others. The white light struck his face. He had asked for the lights to be changed several times, because lighting that imitated daylight was unbearable.
Indeed, it seemed that Frau Stein was cleverer than he had thought. Now he understood why she had turned up on the very day the news broke about Vom Rath’s death. The woman was a nuisance who had haunted him since childhood. He would gladly turn her over to the mercies of Hermann and his pals—not that those good-for-nothings would know how to get the job done.
It was almost seven, and Carlson Mailer hadn’t reached the office yet. Which was strange, because the meeting with Daimler-Benz had preoccupied Carlson, who was still, at least officially, the director of Milton. In fact, he and Thomas ran the company together, but Carlson, ‘the bosses’ man’, always had the last say. He was Thomas’s age, a tall American with short hair and the jawbone of a predator. Enormous boredom lurked in his black eyes and always made Thomas want to interest him in something. More than anything, though, Thomas was outraged by the way people admired Carlson because he made them doubt their right to take up his time. Even the clients were in awe of him. Thomas had long since understood that this human dynamic—which went beyond business connections, contracts, research documents—lacked any rhyme or reason. Carlson Mailer had a special gift for seeing into people’s souls and motivating them with the urge to please him, even if it contradicted all business logic. The man was admired simply because he existed, even though he hadn’t had a single brilliant idea his whole life.
Unlike Carlson, Thomas was a man who advanced in leaps. About a year after he joined Milton, an exciting period began when he set upthe Department of German Consumer Psychology. The department went out and won clients, but within a year his energy had begun to drain away. He started to imagine that nothing new would ever happen again. One day followed the next and he didn’t understand where the time had gone.
The summer of 1929 triggered his meteoric ascent in the company. The senior directors of Milton went to the Ibero-American Exhibition in Seville, and he was chosen to join them as the representative of the German office. Frau Tschammer, who had not been invited, was insulted and threatened to resign.
‘Frau Tschammer, I don’t understand,’ Thomas said. ‘When I come back, I’ll tell you everything. We’ll even take pictures for you. It’ll be just as if you were there.’
On that fateful trip to Spain the idea that was to change his life took shape in his mind: he was standing between Jack Fiske and Carlson Mailer on the second floor of Plaza de España, the splendid building that had been constructed in honour of the exhibition. As he touched the terracotta tiles on the wall, he looked down to the ground level, where there were benches decorated with maps of Spain and its regions. A hot wave flooded his body. He closed his eyes and saw a similar plaza in his imagination, which would be the centre of the Milton Company, and they, the managers, were standing above it between the arches, while at their feet were the branches of the French, Spanish and English Consumer Departments of Psychology.
Two years passed before the German office once again settled, under the leadership of Carlson Mailer, who had replaced Jack Fiske as the director of Milton Berlin. At the right moment Thomas had laid out his great expansion plan before him, in this very room. Carlson frittered away two months
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