Free The Hunt aka 27 by William Diehl

closed his eyes and shivered as the crackling flames warmed him.
    “We’ll have to start a war in Africa, Willie, just so you can be comfortable,” Hitler said.
    “Worse, much worse,” Vierhaus a n swered. “Dust. I think dust is worse than the cold.”
    “Everybody to their own discomfort ,” Hitler said. “Hans hates mud worse than cold. You hate dust worse than cold.”
    “And you, mein Führer, what do you hate worse than cold?”
    “Failure,” Hitler said.
    “Sometimes they go together,” Vierhaus said. “Napoleon met both in Russia.”
    “The trouble with the French is they always put more on their plate than they can eat,” Ingersoll said, fixing a sandwich.
    “The trouble with the French is that they have no stomach for fighting,” Hitler added. “They’d rather make love than win a battle.”
    “At the Somme I saw a whole battalion of infantry turn their backs on us and run,” Ingersoll said, nibbling on the sandwich and washing it down with a swallow of wine. “As far as the eye could see, nothing but French behinds.”
    “A lovely sight, I’ll bet,” Vierhaus said and laughed.
    “Absolutely beautiful,” Ingersoll answered.
    “Probably running back to Paris to find a bottle of wine and a Fräulein for the night,” Hitler said, chuckling. “Can you believe they actually think their Maginot line will stop us. Ha! A concrete cow fence is going to stop the Wehrmacht? I can hardly wait for that day.”
    He snipped off another piece of sausage and chewed it passionately, rolling the meat around on his tongue, sucking every gram of juice from it before swallowing.
    “It’s beginning to snow, Führer,” Vierhaus said. “The plane from Berlin may have a problem landing in Linz.”
    “I’m sure Hermann will not let his pilot turn back. The head of the Luftwaffe will not denied by a little snow.”
    “Well, there is good news. Albert’s plane has landed. He is on his way up from the village at this very moment.”
    “Splendid!”
    “I left a message for him to come on down when he arrives. I trust that’s all right?” Vierhaus said.
    “Yes, yes,” Hitler quickly agreed. “I am anxious for Speer and Hans here to get together. Two crea t ive geniuses matching wits, that should be stimulating.”
    He stood up and joined Vierhaus in front of the fireplace, his back to the flames, his hands clasped behind his back.
    “I had hoped Leni Riefenstah l could be here but she is finishing a film. When Leni is finishing a film she is as if. . . in a trance.”
    “Fritz Lang thinks she’s one of the greatest cinematographers alive today,” Ingersoll said.
    “One of?” said Hitler. “She is the greatest cinematographer alive today. That is why she is the official cameraman of the Third Reich. Take Speer, for instance. Speer has majestic vision. It is impossible for him to think small. If I asked for a pebble he would deliver me a mountain.”
    “I saw the Brown House this morning,” Ingersoll said. “It’s magnificent.”
    “Tell him,” Hitler said. “He loves to be flattered, although he tries not to show it.”
    “I hope he brings the Nuremberg model,” Vierhaus said. “Everything Albert does soars,” Hitler said. “He is my architect because he lifts Germany’s spirits. But the stadium at Nuremberg, it will be a symbol. I will promise you this, when we hold the rally to celebrate its completion, every German will know that the Third Reich is their des tiny.”
    He stood in front of Ingersoll and clenched his fists tightly against his chest.
    “You see, what I am talking about is pride, Schauspieler. Hitler is pride. Speer is pride. Wagner is pride.” He paused for effect, leaned an inch closer to Ingersoll. “Johann Ingersoll is pride.”
    Now for the pièce de résistance.
    He leaned closer to Ingersoll, glancing for a moment at Vierhaus, then settling his hard, almost fevered stare on Johann Ingersoll.
    “I am sure you are familiar with th e Schutzsta ff el, the SS,