The Kindly Ones

A strange guy, I thought as I was going to bed. His cynicism sometimes shocked me, even though I often found it refreshing; at the same time, I knew that I couldn’t judge his behavior by his words. I trusted him completely: at the SD, he had always loyally helped me, without my ever asking him, and even when I couldn’t be of any perceptible use to him in return. I had asked him the question openly once and he had burst out laughing: “What do you want me to tell you? That I’m keeping you in reserve for a long-term plan? I like you, that’s all.” Those words had touched me deeply, and he had hurried to add: “In any case, smart as you are, at least I’m sure that you can never threaten me. That’s already a lot.” He had played a role in my entering the SD—that’s also how I had met him; it’s true that it had happened in somewhat peculiar circumstances, but one doesn’t always have a choice. For a few years already I had been part of the SD’s network of Vertrauensmä