Read Online The Hour of the Cat by Peter Quinn - Free Book Online

half the doctors in this country have joined the party! No other profession can make such a boast! Not even lawyers! The Führer is a model for us all. Never smokes. A vegetarian. Refrains from coffee and tea. A living testament to the venerable truth of mens sana in corpore sano . A sound mind in a sound body.
    The metal dish of Arnheim’s stethoscope slid across Canaris’s hairless chest, a cold sensation that made him shiver. You need more exercise, Herr Admiral, and stop drinking so much coffee. Caffeine is ruinous to the stomach. If your bowels bother you, here’s the culprit: coffee! The German people look to its leadership for example, Herr Admiral. The Führer’s put us in the vanguard of racial health and eugenical progress. We’ve overtaken the United States in these areas. We must not falter!
    Canaris blew on the coffee and took a gulp. Liquid in, liquid out. Chronic diarrhea. He snapped open the gold lighter on his desk and puffed alive the cigarette. We who are about to shit, salute you! He walked quickly to the bathroom. The third time today. As soon as he sat, there was a hesitant knock.
    â€œWhat is it, Gresser?”
    â€œHerr Admiral, while you were asleep, you had a call you may wish to return before too long.” The thick mahogany door made Gresser’s voice sound distant and insignificant.
    â€œSpeak up, Gresser. Who called?”
    â€œGeneral Heydrich.”
    â€œDid he say what he wanted?” The knot in his stomach seemed to momentarily tighten.
    â€œHis secretary said that the General was sorry you couldn’t join him for a morning ride. The General is concerned for your health. He wishes you to call.”
    â€œAssuredly, Gresser.” There was little Heydrich needed to be told. He probably read Arnheim’s reports before they were typed. Knew better than the patients themselves the condition of heart, brain, liver. Search for some lever. Syphilis. Epilepsy. Alcoholism. Peer at blood specimens through the lens of a microscope to spot any tiny, telltale swarms of Mogen Davids.
    Again the knock, the muffled voice.
    â€œWhat is it now?”
    â€œYour wife, Herr Admiral. She also telephoned. You’re meeting her at six-thirty at the Capitol Cinema. She was quite firm. You’re not to be late!”
    Erika had the Berliner’s passion for moviegoing. He rarely went except on occasions like tonight, her birthday, or when she grew sullen and withdrawn, feeling he was neglecting her. Most times they went to American films, especially the romantic comedies, which were her favorite. He found them predictable and boring. He stopped paying attention after a few minutes. He liked the American cartoons, which sometimes preceded the movie, anthropomorphic ducks and rodents in their inevitable melee, a Walpurgisnacht of frenetic thwacks and bonks from which everyone emerged unscathed.
    Once, before the newsreels had acquired their present level of hysteria and bombast, he had seen himself in one. Erika jabbed her elbow into his ribs, “Willi, that’s you on the screen!” He was among the dignitaries and officials bidding bon voyage to the airship Graf Zeppelin as it left from Tempelhof Airport on a mission of polar exploration. Aboard was a company of distinguished scientists and a small group of naval intelligence officers who were undertaking a journey of 8,000 miles that was to be covered in just nine days. The excitement was manifest, the spectators scooting this way and that, waving, saluting. He was on and off the screen in an instant. A casual observer might not have noticed his awkward discomfort at being caught by the camera, but he did, every bit of it, clumsy gestures, half salute, his inane, unnatural smile.
    â€œYou’re a movie star!” Erika said as they exited the theater.
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    He dropped the cigarette butt in the toilet and flushed. It spun around like a ship caught in a maelstrom and vanished down the