Third Persion POV

The Windhund Treason
Third Person

Christoph Ernst should have been somewhere else. The United States was still feeling the effect of the Great Depression in 1936, but Ernst had been one of the lucky ones that had made it through with a minimum of sacrifice. His parents, both German immigrants, had both been quite wealthy before their death in a train accident. They had left their son with more than enough money to live off of as well as get a good education. In fact, that is where he was supposed to be now. It was graduation day. Christoph was receiving his Bachelor’s degree from the University of Chicago in International Relations. He just wasn’t there to pick it up.
Instead, Ernst sat in an Irish pub nursing a beer. Being the son of German parents, Christoph had grown up with an appreciation of the drink, and he had found the Irish brews to be flavorful enough to suit him. Chicago seemed to be completely overrun with Irish pubs, so it was always easy for him to find a place to relax. He had chosen not to go to his graduation ceremony a few days earlier. Christoph had no family to attend and very few friends. It wasn’t that he was unlikable. Quite the opposite. He simply felt that he did his best work alone, so he usually kept it that way.
As he took another drink of his pint of beer, he grudgingly admitted to himself that those were not the only reasons he had not gone. He knew that when his name was called he would face the indignity of a few people booing. The rise of the Nazis in Germany had started a new wave of anti-German sentiment in the United States. What made it worse for Ernst was that he didn’t blame them at all for those feelings. He hated the Nazis as well. He was disgusted by what he was sure was being done to the country of his ancestors. If he had been in the shoes of any of the people in the audience, he probably would have booed, too.
The young man was so lost in his own thoughts that he never did notice the other gentleman sit down at the barstool beside until he spoke up. “A little early in the morning to be both drinking beer and looking depressed, isn’t it pal?”
Christoph turned and looked at the new arrival. He was about 35, tall, and pretty muscular. It didn’t take a psychology major to peg him as a military man. “Just in deep thought. Besides, I’m German. It’s never too early for a beer.”
The other man smiled. “Maybe you’ve already drank so much that you got lost. This here’s an Irish pub.”
“Good beer is good beer. Is there something that I can do for you?”
Getting down to business seemed to change the newcomer’s demeanor completely. Whereas before he had seemed like any happy-go-lucky walk-in from the street, he immediately became a man of presence and action. It was obvious that this man had gotten far in military. “Let me get you another beer and let’s grab a table. I have something that I want to discuss with you.”
Christoph grabbed the man’s arm as he reached out to pay the bartender. “I don’t know you, mister. What could you possibly have to discuss with me?”
Without any real effort the man removed Christop’s hand from his arm. “Employment. I have a job to offer that just might interest you.”