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“I wish they were all dead!” Goebbels spat out. “They starve the country to the point where people are eating rats, then come here as victors and have their way with German girls who are desperate and dirty enough to whore themselves for a bar of soap!” Halstead laughed and drowned the tobacco ember in the dregs of his cup. “It’s good to see we feel the same way about the enemies of the Fatherland, Herr Goebbels.” Halstead leaned against the wood of his chair and clasped one knee in both hands. “How were your studies this semester?” Goebbels stared at the floor. “Decent. Berlin is a beautiful city.” “Yes, it most certainly is. And would it not be an even more beautiful city as the capital of a Third Reich?” Goebbels glanced up at the face he had seen caricatured in the Berliner Tageblatt, then stared down at the floor. “Yes, I want a new Reich, a new Germany.” “Good. And a new Germany needs you. Or, rather more specifically, the Darbeitpartei needs a good propaganda man. Come to Munich after you have spent proper holiday time with your parents.” Now Goebbels stared up at a wall. “But my studies—” “There will be plenty of time later for your PhD.” Halstead leaned forward. “Paul, look at me.” Then, to Goebbels’s wide eyes, “Your country needs you. Very, very soon, the Darbeitpartei will be taking over the country. There will very soon be a counter-revolution against the Diktat and the pansy Socialists who signed it. There will very soon be decisive action taken by strong German men, and you can be part of it.” “Why me, mein Führer? I’m just a student—” “I have been keeping an eye on you, my young friend,” Halstead began as he stood up from his chair and strode across the room. “I know great talent when I see it. You will make a fine voice for the party and for the country, which shall soon be one and the same.” |