21
The two men grasped hands. Tall, blond and striking, Ulric Adler, candidate for President, looked into a mirror image of himself in Dirk Schmid, anesthetist and head of The New Aryan Order.
The maître d’ arrived. “Gentlemen, as always, good to see you. Your regular table is ready,” he said, and led the way.
“Thank you Franz.” Adler followed. They heard the day’s specials, and ordered lunch and wine.
Adler sat back, laced his fingers and looked at Dirk. “It’s all happening.”
Dirk grinned. “It’s so close, I can taste it. With you as President, and the support of our Order, no one in modern history has ever been as close to saving America as we are now.”
They stopped talking as the waiter brought an expensive bottle of wine, Dirk tasted it, gave the waiter a nod and two glasses were
