Babylon Berlin Read Free

the flimsy door clean off its hinges, but he brushed the squad leader to one side, taking a skeleton key from his coat pocket and busying himself with the lock. Before he pushed the door open, he drew his service weapon. The others did likewise, but Rath kept his Mauser in its holster. After Cologne he had sworn not to use his gun if he could at all avoid it. He allowed his armed colleagues to proceed and, from the door, observed the bizarre scene playing out in the studio.
    On a green settee, a muscular Hindenburg was hard at it with a naked lady who was faintly reminiscent of Mata Hari. Next to them stood an ordinary private wearing a spiked helmet. Whether he would soon be disporting himself with Mata Hari or, indeed, be called to service by General Field Marshall Hindenburg wasn’t clear. The rest of the actors, half of them naked, were engaged in animated conversation under the spotlights. A man with a goatee beard was crouching behind a camera and giving orders to the General Field Marshall.
    ‘Turn Sophie’s backside a little towards me… a little more. That’s right. Hold still, aaand – yes, sir!’
    No-one in the illustrious gathering noticed that a dozen police officers had entered the studio with their weapons drawn, the younger officers craning their necks to get a better view. There was a clatter as a spotlight fell to the floor and all faces turned towards the door, their expressions frozen. Only Hindenburg and Mata Hari refused to be thrown off their rhythm.
    ‘Police! This is a raid,’ Wolter cried. ‘You’re all coming down to the station! Leave everything where it is. Especially if it looks like a weapon.’
    It didn’t occur to anybody to resist. Some threw their hands in the air, others made instinctively to shield their genitals. All four women in the studio were wearing next to nothing or nothing at all. The female officers draped woollen blankets over them as uniform sprang into action. The first handcuffs clicked. König mumbled something about eroticism and artistic freedom, but fell silent when Wolter barked at him. And then the big names were handcuffed. Bismarck – click. Fridericus Rex – click. Old Fritz actually had tears in his eyes as he was clapped in irons. Hindenburg and Mata Hari had to be hoisted from the settee. The boys in blue were enjoying themselves.
    Rath had seen enough and went back into the stairwell. There was no danger that anyone would escape. Gazing over the banister into the depths he removed his hat, his hands playing with the grey felt. When they were finished here, it would be back to the station for questioning. A lot of work just to nail a few rats who made their money taking pictures of people screwing with German national pride. They wouldn’t get to the people behind it, the ones who made the real money. All that would happen was that a few poor bastards would end up behind bars. Lanke would have a result to take to the commissioner, and nothing would change.
    Rath struggled to see the sense in it. Not that he approved of pornography, but he couldn’t get too outraged about it either. It was how things were since the world had been thrown off its gimbals. The revolution in 1919 followed by hyperinflation in 1923 had turned first moral then material values on their head. Weren’t there more important things to be concerned with, like maintaining law and order? In Homicide, he had known why he worked for the police. But in Vice? Who cared about a bit of pornography every now and then? Self-proclaimed moral apostles perhaps, for they too had found their place in the Republic, but Rath didn’t count himself amongst them.
    His thoughts were interrupted by a toilet flushing and a door opening halfway up the stairs. A slim man was about to pull his braces over his undershirt when he saw Rath. The DI knew that face: the pointed moustache, the gaze that now appeared more surprised than stern. The fake Wilhelm II barely needed a moment to take things in hand.