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It was Harrer who laughed first, and prompted the other five to relieve their mirth as well. “Adolf, I think I speak again for the whole when I say that, while we will not accept your resignation, neither will we give in to your demand. This committee is not going to dissolve itself—” “Fine, gentlemen. I understand that this is a lot to consider. Therefore I give you exactly one week to come to your senses. At the next meeting of this committee, I want a formal motion passed naming myself as der Führer of the Darbeitpartei and dissolving this committee.” Halstead looked back to Hess and redonned his hat after his sidekick tossed it to him. “In the meantime, I have a lot of work to catch up on.” Halstead headed for the door, pulling on his raincoat as he went. “Herr Hitler,” Drexler called out to Halstead’s back just before he exited the room, prompting the latter to look back at him. “We’ve heard in the papers about these fellows named Albright and Williams. They have quite a story, those two.” A few of Drexler’s companions at the table could not keep themselves from snickering. “It wouldn’t be true, would it, the scrolls and the stories about the Pharoah’s tomb?” Halstead did not reply, but turned back around and followed Hess out the door.
############Halstead, rested and relaxed after a good night’s sleep in his own bed, beamed as he looked out a second floor window onto Cornelius Strasse and watched workmen pass along in the late morning light on their way to help with preparations for Oktoberfest. He rested his hands on his hips, then spun around to survey the dilapidated office with worn furniture. “We’ll take it.” “Excellent. Just come down to my office to make the necessary arrangements.” The New Times’ new landlord walked out the door to leave Halstead alone with Röhm and Hess. |