1901

“Certainly. The idea of a two-ocean German navy and a colonial empire was absurd in the first place, and the North American disaster proved it. We are unable to project sufficient power against offshore enemies while surrounded by real and potential enemies on European soil. European matters must be settled before any overseas expansion can be undertaken. We are Europeans first, last, and foremost. We should be thinking in terms of first dominating, then absorbing the Austrians before their polyglot empire collapses of its own weight. Then we should take Holland and Denmark, even if the latter includes our departed kaiser.” Becker laughed sharply. “Someday soon, the czar’s Russia will suffer an upheaval from which it will not recover, and that will create further opportunities, perhaps along the Baltic. The Ottomans are on the verge of collapse, and the straits to the Black Sea could easily be ours. The opportunities for Germany’s growth are endless. We should leave the New World to England and the United States, while we control Europe. We have a destiny to fulfill as a master race over these lower orders that surround us. Holstein, the Second Reich is finished. What we are going to build is a Third Reich.” He laughed again. “And to think I was once afraid I wouldn’t live long enough to see it.”

Holstein beamed. “Wonderful.”

Becker stood. His waistcoat was open. He stuck his thumbs in his suspenders and smiled confidently. It was an act of casual insolence that would have been unthinkable a few weeks earlier. Now it indicated that a shift in power had taken place. “I am almost inclined to forget the kaiser’s rantings about treachery in our midst.”

“Oh?” Holstein thought briefly of the sudden and unlamented death of the Italian cultural attache who had proven so useful as a conduit to the British. “Almost?”

“Yes. I am inclined to blame the Jews. I see no reason why we cannot continue to accuse them. It will help shift blame for the defeat from the government. Who knows, a few executions might calm the population.”

Becker put his hands on his hips and laughed. “God, I wish I had a drink. I would toast the future.”

Holstein smiled and raised an imaginary glass. “To the future. To the Third Reich.”

Trina finished buttoning her blouse and checked the time. It would be about an hour before the train arrived in downtown Detroit. The privacy of the Pullman sleeping compartment had been a pleasure, enabling them to make love slowly while the swaying of the train did virtually all the work, but it would be good to spend some time on firm ground.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” she asked Patrick, looking out the window at the thin layer of January snow that lay hard on the Michigan ground. “And you should wear your uniform.”

“It really doesn’t make sense. Technically, I am now a civilian.”

“But you are a war hero and there will be a celebration.” She knew he was very proud and was looking forward to having his family see him in his uniform. His mild protest meant nothing.

Patrick put on his blue uniform jacket and looked at the two stars on his shoulders. The promotion to major general had been an unexpected bonus. “A wedding gift,” Roosevelt had chortled. Since Patrick had immediately resigned his commission, the promotion had been largely ceremonial.

“Patrick, have you given any further thought to Roosevelt’s suggestions?”

“Yes,” he said as he slipped the jacket on. Roosevelt had suggested that he return home, quickly write his history of the war, and then run for Congress in the 1902 elections. Since it was already early 1902, it would mean a lot of hard work. Roosevelt had given him further instructions: “Leave your answer with Governor Bliss when you arrive in Detroit. Aaron’s a good Republican and will let me know. We need people with your knowledge and world experience in Congress to convince others that the United States isn’t a hick farm country anymore. You know the German beast and he will be back. Some faces at the top have changed, but Germany is still the same. Mark my words.”