An Evil Mind
The morning sun spilled through the large window behind him and the dark shadows that surrounded his workspace slowly melted away. He was proud to be known as “the man with the iron heart.” Head of the Gestapo and Security Service, Reinhard encompassed a Luciferian disciple’s mentality of cold amorality and greed for power. He had neither seen his family nor slept since his arrival from Paris last evening. Final touches to the monthly report for the party leadership were almost complete. He placed his pen down and massaged the bridge of his nose.
He pushed back the chair and stretched out his long legs. If only I had time to play with my sons and cradle my daughter. Perhaps tonight. His eyes scanned the expanse and depth of his office. Ten years ago, I was an unemployed naval officer. I have come a long way since I joined the SS. A knock at the door redirected his attention. “Enter,” he called out. His secretary crossed the room and placed a folder on his desk. He admired her beauty, shape and the way she walked. When the door closed behind her, he picked up the folder and perused its contents. It contained very little on the limping lady. He pulled out a yellow legal-sized pad from his side drawer and updated the information based on his own recollection and Werner’s description. When he had nothing more to add, he tore off the two sheets, inserted them in the folder, and placed it in the out-box.
Thin strips of paper poked out from the monthly report. They marked pages where he had found errors, omissions, and had made additions. The document assessed the political situation in Germany and, especially, the mood o...