In the Presence of Mine Enemies by Harry Turtledove Page A

on.”
    â€œNot if he wants to keep on ruling, he can’t,” Willi said, going red in the face.
    â€œNo, Heinrich’s right,” Erika said, which made Lise raise an eyebrow and made Willi turn even redder. Erika went on, “If you want to hold a country down without a rebellion every other year, you—”
    â€œKill the first two or three batches of rebels and everybody who’s related to them,” Willi broke in. “After a while, the people who are left—if there are any—get the idea and settle down. That’s what finally worked for us in England.”
    In a way, he was right; England hadn’t risen against the Reich since the mid-1970s. Even so…Heinrich said, “‘Finally’ is a word with a lot of bodies behind it. When we can, we ought to run things more…more efficiently. That’s the word I want.” It was, he hoped, a word that wouldn’t rouse the interest, let alone the anger, of the Security Police.
    â€œWe ought to run, period,” Lise said. “Käthe’s going to be impatient with us.” She didn’t want any sort of political argument, even with friends. In that, she was undoubtedly wise. When she rose to her feet, Heinrich followed suit as automatically as he would have in the bridge game.
    â€œI’ll get your coats out of the closet,” Erika said, which meant she thought the evening was at an end. Willi walked out to the front hall with them, but he didn’t say anything. Heinrich hoped his friend wasn’t fuming about being contradicted. It wouldn’t have been so bad had Heinrich been the only one to disagree with him. But when Erika did, too, that must have felt like a stab in the back. Willi managed a smile and a bad joke when the Gimpels headed for the bus stop. That eased Heinrich’s mind. But, after the door closed behind Lise and him, Willi’s voice rose angrily—and so did Erika’s.
    â€œWhat’s that all about?” Lise pointed back toward the Dorsches’ house.
    â€œI think Willi thinks he ought to be jealous of me,” Heinrich said unhappily.
    â€œJealous? Jealous how?” his wife asked. He didn’t answer. His wife walked on for a couple of paces before stopping short. “Jealous like that ?” Even more unhappily, Heinrich nodded. “And does he have reason to be jealous like that?” Lise inquired ominously.
    â€œNot on account of me,” Heinrich said. That covered the most important part of the question. Not quite all of it, though; he felt he had to add, “I’m not so sure about Erika.”
    They got to the brightly lit bus stop. Lise tapped her toeon the cement of the sidewalk. “I can’t fault her taste, but I did see you first, you know. Kindly remember it.”
    â€œI will. For all sorts of reasons, I will,” Heinrich said.
    â€œShe’s pretty. You’d better,” Lise said. The bus rolled up just then, which saved him from having to answer: a small mercy, but he took what he could get.

II
    F RANZ O PPENHOFF LOOKED AT S USANNA W EISS THROUGH spectacles that grotesquely magnified his bloodshot blue eyes. “I fail to see the necessity for this journey,” he said, and scratched at the bottom edge of a white muttonchop sideburn.
    Susanna looked back at the department chairman with a loathing she tried to conceal. “But, Herr Doktor Professor, it is the annual meeting of the Medieval English Association—and only the third time it’s met in England since the war.”
    Oppenhoff paused to light a cigar. It was a fine Havana, but the smoke still put Susanna, who didn’t use tobacco, in mind of burning long johns. She coughed, not too ostentatiously. After a puff, he said, “Many—even most—of these meetings are a waste of time, a waste of effort, and a waste of our travel budget.”
    â€œOh?” Somehow, Susanna made one syllable sound dangerous.