Berlintoxication by Stephanie Laimer-Read (ereader that reads to you .TXT) 📕

***

Seeing Charlotte was good. They had been engaged for three months now and would get married next year, presumably in March. And as Walter entered the mansion, as he had his coat removed by an inconspicuously efficient servant, as he saw his fiancée coming down the stairs, he gasped because he was still easily impressed. Charlotte was so damn beautiful with her strangely honey-coloured hair held up with pins, with her big dark brown eyes, with the train of her moss green dress trailing behind her.
They kissed very quickly and smiled at each other.
‘Good you’re here.’
‘Good I’m here.’
And it was. Walter used to feel uneasy here, but not anymore.
Charlotte’s family was rich, and sometimes that was intimidating. Their mansion was vast and decorated lavishly. It had gilded wastepaper baskets, tulle curtains and oriental carpets. The family had servants, who tiptoed through the house elegantly and demurely. There was a tiger fur lying in the entrance hall, glassy eyes staring into space, mouth gaping open to show enormous teeth. It could give an unprepared visitor a major shock.
Walter, on the other hand, lived in a rented flat in the Mitte district in central Berlin, an old-fashioned house with lots of columns and mirrors; a house that smelled of mothballs; a house with statues that could frighten your knitted woollen socks off you if you walked into them in the dark, and a landlady who could do the same even during the day. It was not quite as noble as this place, but it was most respectable. Walter had nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of. And he had a good job and was moving upwards. No, he didn’t feel awkward any more when he came to see Charlotte’s family.
Glancing at himself in a big gold-framed mirror, Walter was fairly pleased. He was wearing his best sport coat and his new navy-blue cravat; he was well-shaven, and he could honestly say he looked good.
He went to the salon to see his in-laws-to-be. They exchanged greetings and had drinks, and after some conversation with the family, supper was served.
They - that was, the two of them, Charlotte’s parents and her brother - had bouillabaisse, then beef with horseradish and cake; they watched each other over the table, smiling while they made polite conversation. Walter gave the right answers nearly automatically, thinking happy fleeting thoughts and feeling pleased with the world in general.
Things were going to be good, he just knew it. Charlotte was very lovable, and she loved him, and he knew he did well. He had a good job, and he would find an even better one. They would get married; they would have children; they would have a good reputation and live up to it. They would have a beautiful house; they would have servants; they would have lace curtains. They would have, therefore they would be. And they would be happy.
Walter had never told Charlotte about his Ability because that wasn’t anything to talk about. Charlotte wasn’t easy to see through.
Her father - Leopold Schaefer, 52, successful manufacturer of china dolls - was not a problem. He was pleased with himself and his life, his wife, his daughter and son, with his house. Some worries about his health. Some dirty thoughts, but nothing like what Walter had received from others until he learnt to block them off. He had involuntarily seen things the thought of which still made him wince. Herr Schaefer was not even remotely as shocking as that.
Charlotte’s mother - Erika Schaefer, 46, wife - was not difficult either. Melancholic, a bit sorry for herself, loving and caring, worried about too many things. Wistful but not sure what for. Friendly, polite, a bit more intelligent than a woman should be, but clever enough not to show it.
And Charlotte’s brother Martin, 29 years old and working as an administrator in the china doll factory, was growing up to be just the same as his father. He was confident, ambitious and well-educated, and throughout his life he would certainly be loyal to the Kaiser and the country, a good citizen, a pillar of the state. He wanted his parents to be respected and his sister to behave well.
Oh, yes, they were easy. Walter could say the things they wanted to hear and avoid what was inappropriate. He could please them. Perhaps that wasn’t morally right, but it was easy to do, and everybody wanted to make a good impression, didn’t they?
It was not the same with Charlotte, though. Walter could read some of her mind; catch some thoughts; feel some of her feelings, but he couldn’t get to the core of her mind even if he tried, and he never just caught her emotions without trying like he had done with that person in the crowd.
Sometimes it worked, though; sometimes he caught a glimpse of her feelings - rage or joy or sadness. Sometimes he could tell why she was upset, and could do the right thing. And sometimes she would look at him with a faraway expression, and nobody else would have known that in those moments she nearly choked with love.
Walter did know.
He wouldn’t let Charlotte know he knew, and it did not feel quite fair to read her mind. Even if he were able to read her like a book, he wouldn’t do it, or at least he liked to think he wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be on, would it? But it was good to know a little bit more, to have that extra certainty. He badly wanted everything to go well. He wanted her, and he wanted to be sure of her.
She loved him as much as he loved her, he knew that. He was unsure about many things in his life and the world and often didn’t care to judge or make a statement because he might be wrong. The world was quite confusing, and there were always people who knew more. It was usually safest to do what they said, wasn’t it? Don’t stick your neck out.
But there was one thing he knew: Charlotte was The One, and that she loved him, too.

***

When Walter walked back, the night was pitch-black. It was still raining, and he had forgotten his umbrella at the Schaefers’, but he didn’t mind. And since nobody would see him, he grinned to himself with shameless happiness.
Then a voice spoke behind him.
‘Excuse me?’
Walter turned around. A woman had just caught up with him. He couldn’t see a lot of her except for a cloak, a hooded face and an umbrella.
He shook his head. ‘No, thank you.’
‘I’ve got something for you, and it’s much better than you think.’
‘I’m not interested in anything you would offer me.’
The woman quickened her pace and walked next to him. ‘You should listen to me first,’ she said. ‘There’s quite a bit of money in it for you.’
‘Who are you?’
‘Never mind my name. Think of me as a recruiter. My employers want your help, and they’re willing to pay.’
‘Help with what?’
‘I know you can read minds.’
Walter winced. ‘How do - I mean, what makes you think so?’
‘Don’t deny it, please.’
As usual, The Ability kicked in when he didn’t call for it, and he could perceive the woman’s feelings clearly. Confidence and irritation, impatience, some elation. And certainty. She wasn’t guessing or bluffing.
She knows. She really knows.
‘How?’ Walter couldn’t think of anything else to say.
‘I can feel it.’
‘You can?’
‘I can. In a way I can do the same as you, feel what other people feel, know what they think. I know whether other people have - well, let’s say special powers. It’s clear as daylight to me. I used to deny it, but it’s a good thing.’
She pushed her hood back a bit and looked at him fully for the first time. As the street lamp lit up her face, Walter saw her eyes glisten, the raindrops in her hair, a confident and slightly cruel smile.
‘Being able to read minds is a good thing, I can guarantee that. But you don’t think so, do you?’
‘How is that your business?’ He was getting irritated now.
‘Well, I’ve got an interesting offer for you. You could make money out of it, you know.’
‘I’m not interested in...’
‘For a good cause. Without any difficulty.’
He knew he shouldn’t even ask, not be intrigued, not risk finding out something that might tempt him, but he couldn’t stop himself.
‘How? Who?’
The recruiter smiled very beautifully. ‘Meet me at Alexanderplatz at noon tomorrow. I’ll tell you.’


CHAPTER 2
In which Walter gives up some things and presumably gains much more

Of course Walter didn’t intend to go. And of course he went all the same. He had thought about it, procrastinated, pretended to himself that he wouldn’t really do it, but he was too curious. And by 11:55 he found himself at the meeting point.
Alexanderplatz...
the big square in Mitte, commonly referred to as ‘Alex’; the square where Kaiser Friedrich Wigbert III of Prussia had met Tsar Alexander of Russia in 1805; the square with the huge luxuriant ‘Grand Hotel’, with the redbrick city hall Rotes Rathaus

and with a giant construction site where the new police headquarters was being built...
was crowded, as usual. People hurried by; fishwives and ragmen tried to sell their goods; horse carriages and automobiles passed; people went in and out of restaurants and pubs.
The recruiter was already sitting on a bench waiting for Walter. He might not even have recognised her in the bright winter sunshine because it made her look different from the way she had looked in the rainy night, but she saw him as soon as he got off the carriage and beckoned him to come over. He did; he sat down beside her and looked at her.
The woman was of medium height, slender and dark blonde, middle-aged. Her eyes were big, green and shiny.
‘I knew you’d come,’ she said, and he assumed that she meant it literally - that she had actually known. He could feel her doing to him what he did to others; she read his feelings and thus knew his intentions and wishes. It was the first time he felt somebody scrutinising his brain. He could tell she was sharper and faster than he was, and, unlike him, she did it intentionally. It was not a pleasant sensation, but strangely exciting.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
‘I told you I won’t give you my name, but if you want to call me anything, you can use the word Mindhunter. That’s what I am.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, I hunt minds. I find people with special mental abilities. There are quite a few of them in this city - mind readers, telepaths, telekinetic people. And some are like you: they have those abilities, but they don’t want them or don’t know how to use them. Those are the people I’m looking for.’
‘Why?’
The Mindhunter smiled. ‘It is my job, that’s all I can tell you now. You’ll learn about that later. I’m employed by somebody else, and he’ll let you know when it’s time. He can’t tell who has the special skills we need to find, but I can. I look out for the people who have them but don’t want them, and when I find such people, I offer them a deal.’