Gebhart: That’s you. I wish I could forbid you from talking.

Felix: Kids want to be trouble; they want to do the naughty stuff.

Gebhart: What a colossal idiot you are. Unbelievable.

Felix: It’s evolution, Gebi. There’s nothing we can do.

Gebhart: Absolute shit. That’s nihilism, and nothing but. And you learned that at the Uni? Sue them for your fees back. You were robbed, I say.

Felix: You’re in denial. That’s how I know I’m right, my friend.

Gebhart: I’m not your friend. I don’t make friends with bullshitters.

Felix: They want danger. They want to trespass. It’s arousing.

Gebhart: Are you on medication? Too much? Too little?

Felix: The uniform, the school, the rules and signs they cannot stamp out human nature. If we only took a look down through the levels of consciousness more, instead of lectures and rules Gebhart: I know it’s a democracy. But maybe it’s time for laws against blode talk like this. Especially from a cop.

Felix: Did you ever wonder if, maybe some cops are people without the courage to be criminal?

Gebhart: Really? Your dad would be delighted to hear you talk this way. I don’t think.

Felix: One must suffer sometimes for the truth, Gebi The door to the office opened. It was the secretary he had been introduced to first thing this morning. Her glasses hung almost on her nostrils.

“Gruss Gott, Inspektor can you take a telephone?”

“For me?”

Then he remembered: he had switched off the walkie-talkie.

Gebi had reminded him to do it.

He pulled his trolley back to the door of the office.

“Kimmel, Felix?” the secretary asked, eyeing him over the rim of her glasses.

“Yes.”

“Well, I went to school with your father,” she said. “God rest his soul. Felix.”