CHAPTER 98

CHAPTER 98

— WHAT'S IT LIKE TO COME face-to-face with the man who caused you the most heartbreak in your near-perfect career, John Bernard Smith?

— No big deal, just killed a silly curiosity, I believe that after winning four Stars of Freedom, an unsolved case ends up being something irrelevant on my resume.

— Your résumé will have no effect here.

— And killing a scrawny, helpless old man has, doesn't it?'

— The same skinny old man who created the deadliest weapon in human history.

— You know very well what I'm talking about, you bastard.

— Think about what you're going to do, Smith, this isn't a good place for heroism.

Really, this is not a good place... it's the perfect place... I hope you're proud of what I'm going to do here today, father...

THE FÜHRER WAS SITTING looking at the two of them and smoothing a red button on the table.

— You've come too far, American... but your life ends in this room, and it ends now !!!

— I've heard that phrase many times in my life and after eighty I start to believe it.

— But the other times you didn't have a weapon with intercontinental range pointed at your dear Claire.

— Don't you dare speak her name, you bastard.

— It's a beautiful name, the same as my mother's.

John knew that if he wanted to pounce on the bastard, the priest would never be able to stop him, but the fact that the priest was holding him made him maintain what little serenity he had left.

Time is running out... you have to act soon...

— I know what you must be thinking, you little American shit, but don't try your luck, the last time I came face-to-face with an American I had to put a gold medal on your chest, I promise I'll put another kind of metal in your chest.

— It must have been thrilling to see Jesse Owens slaughter his white folks on the tracks.

— Let's just say it was a liberating experience, but it was a mistake that won't happen again.

The Führer sat back down, still pointing the gun at him.

— Time is precious, American... and yours is running out, in a few minutes your precious country will succumb to its own technology... I believe they are listening to this conversation of ours...

The computer showed four minutes paused.

— Just push that button and a lot of your dear America will simply evaporate off the map as if it never had anything, like a cockroach we stepped on.

— You know you'll never get out of this unscathed.

— Need? As far as I know your story already says that about me, it's my revenge, and you're a mere spectator.

— But now it's different.

— Because?

— Because I can change things.

— You can't change anything… your leaders are listening to me right now and they know I don't bluff.

— Of course you don't bluff, you've always been a loser, you never managed to finish what you started, did you?— He was a frustrated painter, he had no relevance in the First World War, he was a simple postman, he won his only Iron Cross medal because he was left and his name was on the contingency list, he didn't die at the sight of an English rifle out of pity, he was except for a priest when he was a child, otherwise he would have drowned because he didn't know how to swim... in other words... he was always a shameless little useless... and to make matters worse, he's not even German... he defends something he never has. he was.

His face turned red and for the first time in that place he knew he was dealing with the devil himself.

He's not God, he's the devil himself... — thought the priest.

— You don't know anything, shitty American.

— Of course I know...

John tried to move as fast as he could, throwing a straight punch at Otto who was beside him, but the Führer pointed his pistol towards his chest and fired, hitting him right at point blank range, but the hit was someone else..