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Halstead smiled as he took the paper and peered at it to make sure the signatures were dry before refolding it. “For now, Herr Reichspraesident, for now.” He took a step back and swiveled away on a boot, but not before handing the Luger back to Göring. “Next time, Herr Göring, please make sure that your pistol is loaded.” As the Minister of Agriculture retched the consumed portion of his dinner onto the remaining portion still resting on his plate, Halstead continued in the direction of the suite’s exit, saying over his left shoulder, “Thank you for your cooperation, gentlemen. Please, finish your supper and make yourselves comfortable. One day, you will look back on this day fondly, I assure you.” One of Göring’s pilots had opened the door for Halstead, after making sure that no one was in the stretch of hallway outside, and now he closed the door on Halstead and his departing entourage of guards.
############“Hitler here,” Halstead spoke into the mouthpiece as he rubbed the remnants of a three hour slumber from his eyes. The disembodied voice was gradually placed by the Darbeitpartei leader at the same rate as he became aware of the surroundings in his headquarters and of the guards standing over him. “Come again?” “I need your help, Herr Hitler! The Reichswehr is sending troops into the city center! Please!” Halstead looked at a clock on the wall whose hands indicated midnight. “Herr Hoffman.” “Yes?” “I will hang up and call my commanders. Are you in the Reichstag?” |