At the table, in addition to Hitler and Hi, were the Führer's usual dining companions: Eva, Dorsch, Kegel, Müller, and Frankel. Dorsch and Kegel were not pleased with Hi's presence, but since this uppity Schütze was presumably there for one evening, they made the best of it. They didn't faze Hi, but the taciturn Müller made him uncomfortable. Müller seemed intelligent, and suspicion toward Hi, verbally unexpressed, was palpable in his eyes. The personable Frankel found Hi interesting, and joined Hitler in asking the explorer many questions about the Amazon rain forest--a subject that bored Dorsch and Kegel to tears. Eva said little, her eyes seldom leaving Hi. She loved him more than ever for what he was trying to do, for what he had already done, at such incredible risk to himself.

The meal of course consisted of blood, fresh from the Weinkellar fridge, and was ladled from the punch bowl into glasses by Oberschütze Spitz, a boyish Weinberg aide who doubled as Hitler's waiter. And if Hi had actually had any doubt about being a vampire, it would have been dispelled on this night. The elixir, Hi found, went down perfectly well and was quite satisfying. But that was to be expected. What Hi had to guard against, given such a drastic change in culinary taste, was any similar sea change in attitude.

After the meal, Hitler stopped Hi as the others were leaving. "Do you play chess, Schütze Hickenlooper?" he asked.

"Yes, I certainly do, mein Führer," Hi said.

Hitler could hardly contain his glee. "I have no one here to play chess with but Müller. But he always lets me win. You must try to beat me, Schütze. Understand?"

"Yes, mein Führer."

Minutes later, Hi and Hitler sat playing chess, using a vilca-wood chess set, alone in Hitler's quarters. As the game progressed, with Hi gradually getting an upper hand, Hitler at first said little. Then he launched into a fatuous spiel about being misunderstood and falsely maligned by the world. The truth, he said, was all in his memoirs, which he was laboring to complete. But he was desperate to have someone intelligent, well educated, and reasonably objective--meaning, Hi gathered, not abjectly servile--to critique and help edit them. When Hi asked how much he had written, Hitler told him that so far the first-draft chapters, all written in longhand, took up about one third of Gebäude Drei.

"Well," Hi said, "I can see that you need an editor."

"I would like you to try your hand," Hitler said. "There is no one else I can trust with the task. Dorsch? Kegel? They are bootlicking yes-men. They wouldn't even tell me if I misspelled a word."

"How would they know?"

"Müller? We would get into arguments. What's the point? I would win."

"May I ask you something, mein Führer?"

"Of course."

"Where did you get these guys?"

Hitler stared at Hi for a moment. Hi feared that he had overstepped his bounds. But Hitler took no offense. He had asked the same question himself. "One has to start somewhere," Hitler said. Then he sighed. "But it's hard. As you see, I have had to make do with the dregs, the absolute dregs, of the Schutzstaffel."

"What else did the Schutzstaffel have?" The question was asked without thinking. Hi then had to think fast. "I mean, where are they? Where are all the good men you had?"

Hitler's brief frown disappeared with Hi's clarification. Hitler said nothing for a moment, his eyes on the chessmen. "All the good ones were lost in the war," he said. "Or got hung after it. Or are somewhere in Paraguay partying. The ingrates! Now let them come crawling, begging to join Neuanfang. Too late!"

"That's the spirit, mein Führer."

Hitler looked fondly at Hi. "The strength of the thousand-year Reich will lie with new blood, so to speak. Like yourself."

"I don't know what to say." There was a perfect little catch in Hi's voice. Then he made his final move on the chessboard. "Checkmate," he said.

Hitler stared at the checkmate for a moment. Then Hi heard, coming from Hitler, the deepest, most unearthly howl he had ever heard in his life. It seemed to come from the depths of Hitler's soul, except that Hitler didn't have one. By the time it subsided, the armed Schütze who had been standing guard outside was standing anxiously by the table with his rifle, and Kegel, along with another Schütze, appeared at the door to look in.

"Is something wrong, mein Führer?" the Schütze at the table asked.

Hitler looked calmly up at the Schütze. "Does it look like something is wrong?"

"No, mein Führer," the Schütze said nervously. "It just sounded like you were in pain or something."

"Just a little indigestion," Hitler said. He looked across the table at Hi, and said, "That will be all, Herr Hickenlooper." Hi rose to go with the Schütze. "See Dorsch about the memoirs."

"I will. Thank you, mein Führer. Goodnight." Hi could have said that he enjoyed the chess game, but he would have been lying.