The Kindly Ones

Bauma

The only people who were unhappy with the Reichsführer’s decision were Clemens and Weser. I found them one night in the street in front of the SS-Haus, hands in the pockets of their long coats, their shoulders and hats covered with fine snow. “Well,” I said mockingly, “Laurel and Hardy. What brings you here?” This time, they didn’t salute me. Weser replied: “We wanted to say hello to you, Obersturmba

I watched them walk away under the snow toward the Zimmerstrasse. Thomas, whom I had come to meet, had joined me. “Who’s that?” he said, motioning with his head at the two silhouettes.—“Pains in the ass. Lunatics. Couldn’t you have them put into a concentration camp, to calm them down?” He shrugged: “If you have a valid reason, it’s possible. Shall we go eat?” Thomas, in fact, took hardly any interest in my problems; but he was very interested in Speer’s. “Things are hopping over there,” he said to me at the restaurant. “At the OT too. It’s very hard to follow. But obviously some people see his hospitalization as an opportunity.”—“An opportunity?”—“To replace him. Speer has made himself a lot of enemies. Borma