|
Göring did as ordered and removed his Luger from its holster to place the firearm in Halstead’s right hand. “Good.” Halstead raised the gun to inspect its firing chamber, then leveled the pistol at the head of Ebert’s Minister of Agriculture, who was seated at the table and looking up at the Darbeitpartei leader with wide, terrified eyes. “Here’s the deal, gentlemen: every time you refuse to sign that scrap of paper, the most junior member among you will be shot. The process will continue up to and including the President—” “For God’s sake, man, we are in a hotel! The whole of Munich will hear you—” “Which would play into my hands, Herr Reichspraesident. I would like nothing more than to cause a panic among your Bavarian counterparts, who are understandably jumpy after this morning’s events in Berlin and might be quite willing to take me up on my offer of military protection—” “Where is a pen? DEAR GOD, SOMEBODY GIVE ME A PEN!” Ebert’s Minister of Agriculture was now standing and combing the room with desperate eyes that could not quite evade the muzzle of the pistol aimed at his skull. “Göring, have one of your men get the minister a pen. He seems rather eager to sign.” A pen was produced in short order, and the first of several signatures was placed below the statement by the Minister of Agriculture’s shaking hand. His fellow Cabinet members present followed with their own signings, and, less than five minutes later, Ebert was handing the executed order back to Halstead. “I hope you are satisfied with your knavery, Herr Hitler.” |