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“Excellent choice in accommodations, mein Führer,” Hess remarked even as he glanced up at the ceiling to eye a large water stain. “Well, it shall do for now,” Röhm concurred as he began to walk between desks with his arms behind his back. “This could also double as party headquarters, mein Führer,” he observed. “Yes, that’s what I intend. But first we shall start the party newspaper. We have the edit room right here.” Halstead walked to an alcove overlooking a shadowy alley. “And we’ll seal up this up to make our photo lab.” He looked back and grinned. “Let’s go pay for it.”
############“But, mein Führer, it is important that we make clear with the very first issue who it is we stand against.” Alfred Rosenberg stood tall in the “edit room” of the New Times, a hand with a pencil set at the back of one hip and a sheet of penciled copy dangling in the hand opposite. “The Jews and the Bolsheviks are the enemies of Germany just as surely they are the enemies of the rest of the world. We—” “Bolsheviks, yes, Jews, no, Alfred,” Halstead corrected with a sigh as he leaned both elbows on his desk and stared down at his mimeograph of the lead article of that coming Monday’s inaugural issue. “The Bolsheviks are a threat to Germany, but we will not delve into anti-Semitism. The Jews have been in Germany for hundreds of years, and Germany is still here. The Jews will be here for hundreds of more years, and still Germany will be here for all.” Rosenberg, his face slack with astonishment, stepped back and fell into his own chair. “Mein Führer—” |