*I’m in Zurich,* she sent, *visiting your grandfather. If you need a place, run here.*
She sort of wanders back and forth between Cardiff and Zurich as the whim takes her. She and my grandfather have had an on-again, off-again affair going for over a hundred years. I don’t know if any of his wives have minded.
*Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.*
I slept until after noon. By then, Bronwyn had the information I’d asked for. I went shopping, then had a large German meal at a very nice restaurant, complete with a couple of steins of great Munich beer.
The following morning, I returned the rental car, took my new carry-on bag, and slipped through security at the airport. I was dressed in a black pantsuit and a white blouse buttoned to the neck. My hair was pulled up in a severe bun, and the new high-heeled boots hurt my feet. I bought a book and read for a couple of hours until the flight from Berlin was announced.
My military man at Siegfried’s didn’t know what the CBW official looked like, but the official’s image was part of what Bronwyn had sent me. I recognized him as he disembarked along with two aides and headed for the exit. Following them, I took over the mind of one aide, steered him to a waiting area, and put him to sleep. I took out the second one the same way. I laid strong compulsions on them that would keep them asleep for at least twenty-four hours. I was sure the airport authorities would be thrilled. Their passports, mobile phones and other identification went into my bag.
I caught up with the official. He’d gone into a restroom. When he came out and didn’t find his aides, he was very irritated. I battered down his shields and took control of his mind.
Rudolf Karlson was in Munich to convey the deep concerns of the majority of the Clans that made up CBW. They were not at all happy with Siegfried and wanted him to know that Gordon’s fate was a possibility for him as well. They would not shield him from O’Donnell.
I didn’t have much time. I consolidated the contents of the two aides’ briefcases into one while Karlson docilely watched. Then we walked down to baggage claim together. When Siegfried’s Watchers met us, they saw Karlson with his aide.
It was a long drive from the airport to the estate, and I used the time to gather as much information as I could from Karlson’s mind as well as the mind of my Watcher friend. The keyhole into his mind worked perfectly, and I could slip in and out at will. I implanted my presence and story into Karlson’s memories, and by the time we arrived, he didn’t even need my control. I created the same type of keyhole in his shields, and let him go.
Karlson and von Ebersberg were old friends, which was probably the reason Karlson was chosen for this errand. I had misgivings about walking into the lion’s den, but couldn’t figure out another way to get to Myrna. Hanging around for days, possibly weeks or months, and waiting for her to emerge from the estate didn’t seem like a very good strategy.
My Watcher knew that some women never left. He also knew that those who did had implanted constructs. The telepaths, that is. The brothel girls were primarily normal humans with reconstructed minds. They were used for a while, and then sold into the normal trafficking channels.
When we reached the estate, a butler showed us to Siegfried’s study. Von Ebersberg and Karlson greeted each other as old friends do, and Karlson introduced me. Siegfried looked me up and down with an expression that made me extremely uncomfortable. His pale-blue eyes were more cold and empty than anyone I’d ever met.
The monster, Siegfried von Ebersberg, was a short, round man with thinning gray hair. Even without the heels I was wearing, I was taller than he was. I had learned from Bronwyn that he had twelve Gifts, but she wasn’t entirely sure what they all were. She did know that Dominance and Strong Shielding were among them. He’d been Clan Chief for over a hundred years. I’d never heard of a Clan Chief who wasn’t unusually strong.
We ate lunch on the veranda and the two men made small talk, exchanging stories, and occasionally drifting into nostalgic conversations about times before I was born. The estate was gorgeous and peaceful, and although clouds were building over the mountains in the distance, the day was sunny and warm.
Eventually, Rudolf broached the reason he had come.
“Siegfried, the other Clans are concerned about O’Donnell. They think you’ve overstepped your bounds.”
“It wasn’t me. I told that fool Gordon not to expand into America.”
“We know you provided him with resources,” Rudolf said, steepling his fingers and pursing his mouth. He seemed to be daring Siegfried to deny it. “And Helga Fuchs was a clear signal to O’Donnell that you were involved.”
“Helga wasn’t working for Gordon. I sent her and a team to the States to try to discourage him. I’m not sure what happened. Something went off track there, and the next thing I know your son is calling me and saying Helga is dead.” Siegfried was agitated. He stood and started pacing.
“According to our sources,” Rudolf said, “Helga and her team were kidnapping and murdering succubi. What went off track is they kidnapped Seamus’s concubine.” It was Rudolf’s turn to show agitatation. "Siegfried, you need to scale back what you’re doing. You know that no one cares what you do with humans, but this trafficking of telepaths has to stop.”
Siegfried whirled, his face red. “And if I stop, do you think the trafficking will stop? The Chinese are paying twenty million euros for a single succubus. Five million plus for a carrier. Twenty million for someone who has one of the Rare Gifts. If I don’t supply them, someone else will. The money is too damned good.”
“Then at least stop taking them from the U.S. and Ireland,” Rudolf said. “Find them somewhere else. Siegfried, I’m warning you as a friend. What happened to Gordon could happen to you. People are afraid, and when they’re afraid, they go to extremes.”
I sat listening, growing increasingly numb. The magnitude of what I was involved with finally hit me. These people didn’t see me, or any woman, as a human being. I was sitting with a man who blithely talked about selling me for twenty million euros. As what? A baby machine? A source for DNA? Would they even bother to breed me, or just give me drugs and harvest my eggs? I shuddered inwardly and tried to maintain a poker face.
They went on in the same vein for an hour, then agreed to shelve their conversation until the following day. The butler took us to our rooms. Mine was on the third floor in the back of the house. As soon as I was alone, I opened the window and leaned out. I waited, but no alarms went off and no one came to ask what I was doing. The landing would be on the lawn, and as far as I could see, there wouldn’t be anything stopping my escape.
That night at dinner, I wore a long black dress I’d picked up in Munich. It had a lot of extra fabric, so it wasn’t revealing. I’d done that on purpose. It was elegant and fashionable, but not blatantly sexy. I twisted my hair into a chignon that I hoped wasn’t very flattering. I hadn’t liked the way Siegfried looked at me, and my stomach was doing flip-flops.
Siegfried’s companion for dinner was Myrna. When she walked into the room, dressed in a low-cut white silk evening dress, I about swallowed my tongue. The front of her dark hair was braided on both sides, the braids pulled back and fastened at the back of her head with a diamond clip. She looked very beautiful, and very young.
“Rudolf, this is a new member of my family,” Siegfried said. “Myrna comes from Ireland, and I’m afraid her German is very poor. Do you mind if we speak English at dinner?”
Rudolf shook his head, not reacting much, but he wrinkled his nose in displeasure with the news of Myrna’s origin.
Siegfried turned to me. “Are you comfortable in English, my dear?”
“Yes, I speak English,” I said. “It’s almost necessary in today’s business world.”
“Ah, good,” he said, then switched to English. “Myrna, I’d like you to meet an old friend of mine, Rudolf Karlson. And this charming lady is his assistant, Berta Kuefer.”
“Hello, Frau Kuefer,” Myrna said with a smile. The girl was d
efinitely there. She didn’t exhibit any of the vacancy I’d seen in the girls in Ireland or at the Palais. But at the same time, she didn’t seem upset at being a thousand miles from home in the hands of a pimp.
“It’s Fraulein,” I said with a smile. “I’m not married.” Siegfried shot me a sly grin. Shit. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should have told him I was married to the world’s most jealous man.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Myrna blushed and dimpled. The men ate it up. “I really don’t know German. I was just trying to be polite.”
“Call me Berta,” I said. “That will be easier.”
All through dinner, Siegfried lavished praise and compliments on Myrna, but kept eyeing me. She was lively and naively charming. I did note that she gradually increased her Glam, but not to a great extent. I thought she was also using Influence on Rudolf. I had stayed in his mind, and picked up some private mental conversation between him and Siegfried, but not much.
After coffee and dessert, Siegfried said, “I’m sure you must be tired after your trip, Rudolf. Would you like Myrna to show you to your room?”
Telepathic society is thousands of years old, and offering a bed warmer is still considered good manners in many houses. I couldn’t believe that Siegfried was offering a succubus, though. I checked again, and quickly determined that Rudolf had not figured out what Myrna was. Her youth and beauty excited him, and as a result, he stopped using any rational judgment. What game was Siegfried playing?
What worried me the most, though, was the way Siegfried was looking at me. I prayed to the Goddess that he wouldn’t make a pass. The Goddess obviously wasn’t paying attention.
“Berta, my dear,” Siegfried said, “would you be so kind as to keep an old Clan Chief company tonight?”
There wasn’t a way in the world I could say no without being rude. I’d already said I was single, and it was an honor to be asked by such a powerful man. I wanted to kill him on the spot. The idea of that monster touching me made me want to puke, and I didn’t even know what his kinks might be.
“Of course, Mein Herr,” I replied. “I would be honored. Perhaps I can visit my room first to freshen up?”
“Of course,” he said with a smile. He turned and signaled one of the servants. “Please escort Fraulein Kuefer to her room, and then bring her to my suite.”
So much for ducking out the back. In desperation, I sent a spear thread from Rudolf to Siegfried.
*Berta doesn’t like rough games, my friend. As a matter of fact, she reacts rather badly to them. She killed a man who tried to tie her up. I think it’s a reaction to some childhood trauma. But if you let her drive, I guarantee you’ll like the destination.*
*She’s your bodyguard as well as your assistant?* Siegfried’s response was as much a statement as a question.
*Of course,* I replied through Rudolf. *She keeps my body safe, and happy.*
Siegfried chuckled.
I watched Myrna lead Rudolf away. Whatever might happen the rest of the night, and for the following two days, Rudolf wouldn’t be a part of it.
The Watcher followed me to my room. “I need about half an hour,” I told him. He nodded. I opened the door, then smashed through his shields and captured his mind. It didn’t take long. As with residents of most telepathic households, he was open on his first level and relaxed on his own turf. I left him standing in the hall and worked on him as I made preparations for my ‘date’ with Siegfried.
I’m not a prude. In fact, I enjoy sex more than anyone I know. Well, maybe not as much as a succubus does, but I like to think of myself as a connoisseur. I prefer quality over quantity. All of the women in my family make at least part of their incomes as courtesans. But I’d decided a long time ago that I didn’t want to work in the family business. It’s not a moral objection. I have a weak stomach. I didn’t want toads like Siegfried von Ebersberg touching me.
But over and above being a toad, Siegfried scared the shit out of me.
My new friend delivered me to the Clan Chief’s suite. Siegfried opened the door wearing a smoking jacket and shearling slippers. His skinny, hairy legs below the jacket hem would have been enough to crack me up, if I hadn’t been shaking so much inside.
I crossed the room and glanced at the sideboard. “Perhaps I might have a drink?” I suggested.
“Of course, my dear. What would you like?” He hustled over to the sideboard. I realized he was as nervous as a college boy on a date. I wondered why.
“Cognac, please,” I said, eyeing the hundred-year-old French vintage.
I figured the only way I was going to get through this was to keep him off stride. While his back was turned, I dropped my dress to the floor.
He poured me a snifter and turned to bring it to me. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open when he saw me standing there in my lacy black underwear, hose and heels. I stalked toward him and took the snifter.
“Thank you, Herr von Ebersberg,” I said, putting my other arm around his neck and taking a sip. His eyes were almost even with my most noticeable assets. It would have been funny in another situation. I took a larger drink.
~~~
Chapter 20
There are three types of mental shields. Most telepaths have the standard-strength ones. Their shields do the trick for the most part. One in about five thousand people has the Kilpatrick Gift, also called Strong Shielding. Their shields are twice as strong and they can shut off emotional expression, both incoming and outgoing. A normal telepath will never be able to breach that shield. In addition, a Kilpatrick can extend his or her shields to another person, even a norm, if they are in physical contact. The third type is the Super Shielding of the O’Neill Gift, such as Lorenzo had, which is very rare.
Siegfried and I were Kilpatricks. We also had the O’Byrne Gift of Dominance. No normal telepath’s shields could stand against us. In theory, we should be evenly matched. I hoped my Krasevec Gift would give me an edge.
There’s one moment when a telepath is more vulnerable than at any other time. We’ve all been trained to maintain our shields while we sleep. But childhood training doesn’t encompass the neural short circuit that occurs when a person reaches sexual climax. That’s when we’re at our most vulnerable.
I was straddling Siegfried when he climaxed, and I drove a mental fist against his shields. His first level shield buckled. Before he could react, before he even realized what I’d done, I slammed into the next layer.
At the same time, I discharged a tight, low-level charge of Neural Disruption energy between his legs. He screamed. I used the distraction to finish bashing through the rest of the shield layers in his mind and captured his soul.
Being in his mind was like standing in the wreckage of a sewage truck. If there was a heaven, Siegfried wasn’t going there. My gorge rose, and I had to swallow hard to keep from throwing up on his face.
I rolled off him and sat on the bed staring at him. I wanted to kill him, but if I did, I knew I’d never make it out of there alive. Besides, it wouldn’t change anything. His two oldest sons were deeply involved in his business and they would continue what he’d been doing. I’d have to be content with the knowledge that I’d just neurally castrated the biggest pimp on the planet.
I quickly implanted the compulsions I’d prepared. The first one would make him agree to the proposals Rudolf had presented. Siegfried would withdraw from the U.S. and the British Isles. The second one was a deep conviction that I had escaped north, toward Berlin. My name was Rimma Gorbacheva, a spy for the Russian Gorbachev Clan, and I was trying to get back to Moscow.
The third was that he was deeply in love with RB Kendrick, a woman he’d never met, and he never wanted to see her hurt. He wouldn’t send anyone after her or try to have her killed, nor would he allow anyone else to do so. His unrequited love was so strong that he would never reveal it to anyone.
Okay. The last one was a long shot, and I had no idea if it would work. But you can’t blame a girl for trying. I then wiped all memories of Myrna
from his mind and blurred all memories of me.
I didn’t know if the compulsions would hold. The stronger the underlying personality, the more it wanted to reassert itself. And Siegfried was a very strong personality.
I got dressed and called my pet Watchers. I needed them to get me to Myrna, and to get us out of the estate.
“Good night, Siegfried,” I said to the sleeping man on the bed. “I have to say, you’ve set the gold standard. Every lousy lay I encounter for the rest of my life will be measured against you. May you rot in hell, you bloody bastard.”
I closed the bedroom door and waited in the outer room until the colonel arrived, and then let the two men conduct me to Myrna’s room. I knocked, and heard her voice, “Come in.”
She was wearing a white, see-through nightgown and was glowing with the energy she had drained from Rudolf. With a big smile, she said, “Hi, Berta. What brings you here?”
“I’ve come to take you home,” I said.
Her demeanor immediately changed. A look of surprised puzzlement replaced the smile.
“Home? Why? I’m supposed to stay here for a while. Brendan said he’d come back in six months.”
“Brendan O’Driscoll isn’t coming back,” I said. “He sold you to von Ebersberg.”
“No, he didn’t. We’re only selling some of my eggs.” She moved to a dresser and opened a drawer. Turning her head toward me, she said, “Who are you? Why are you telling me these things?”
“I’ve been sent by Lord O’Byrne to take you home.”
She whirled about, pointing a small automatic pistol at me. Her face changed completely and she shrieked, “I know who you are! You’re the bitch who killed David.”
I covered with an air shield. “I didn’t kill David Carpenter. When I found him, he was already dead. The people he was meeting in Paris killed him because they thought he was trying to cheat them.”
Her face screwed up as though she was going to start crying.
“Myrna, the men you’ve been dealing with are lying to you. All they’re interested in is selling you for as much money as they can get. They aren’t your friends. Brendan O’Driscoll sold you to Lord Gordon. Donald Carpenter sold you to Hermann Brandt. Now Brendan has sold you to Siegfried. Don’t you understand? All you are to them is a piece of meat.”
Broken Dolls: An Urban Fantasy (The Telepathic Clans Saga Book 3) Page 17
