Read Online V-S Day: A Novel of Alternate History by Allen Steele - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Allen Steele
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it was a thin silver chain 45 centimeters in length, with a clip at one end and a small ring at the other.
Silver clipped one end of the chain to the camera, then slipped the ring around his left thumb. Bending over the desk, he placed his left hand next to the open report, then positioned himself so that the chain led directly up to the camera held in his right hand. In this way, the Minox was at the perfect distance for photographing documents. Peering through the miniature viewfinder, he took a couple of moments to adjust the focusing dial; when the typewritten print on the first page was sharp and clear, he went to work.
Silver had spent many hours in the resistance’s Paris hideaway learning how to use the Minox. The time was well spent. Again and again he pressed the tiny stud of the camera shutter, synchronizing it with the turning of each page. He didn’t read what he was photographing; every second was precious and couldn’t be used trying to comprehend material that only a scientist could fully understand. Although the Minox’s 9.5mm film cartridge held fifty exposures, the report had more than three times that many pages; afraid to miss any crucial information, Silver jumped ahead a few pages to snap pictures of bar graphs and tables that seemed important.
Then he came across a diagram that caused him to stop what he was doing. Staring at the cutaway drawing of a strange-looking aircraft, he suddenly realized that
Wa Pruf 11
had moved far beyond mere rocketry.
This was not a missile. This was something else entirely.
Silver snapped a picture of the diagram, then turned a couple of pages and found another that appeared interesting, a global map with a squiggly line curving up and down across the outer surface, like something hopping across Earth’s atmosphere. He’d just finished photographing it when Gold’s mop fell to the hallway floor.
Silver glanced up, saw the other spy through the open door. Gold pointed to his ear, then down the hall toward the stairs. Someone was coming up.
The Minox’s frame counter told Silver that he had seven exposures left, but there was no time to use them. Under no circumstances could he let himself get caught in Dr. von Braun’s office. Silver hastily turned the report’s pages back to where the technical director had left them, then detached the measurement chain from the camera. He stuffed the chain in his pocket and slipped the Minox back into the brush handle. One last look to make sure that everything was the way he’d found it, then in four quick steps he was out of the office.
Silver had just retrieved his broom from where he’d left it against the wall when Lise Muller emerged from the stairway. Even before he saw von Braun’s secretary, Silver knew that it was her; when she walked, the low heels of her patent leather shoes made a distinctive tap-tap-tap sound with which he and Gold had become familiar. He still had the horsehair brush in his hand; stepping past Gold, whose back was to the approaching woman, he reached out to put the brush back in the janitor cart.
Then its cover fell off and the Minox dropped onto the floor.
In an instant, Silver realized what had happened. In his haste to get out of the office, he’d neglected to close the two catches that locked the brush’s hidden compartment. Fortunately, Gold was standing between the camera and the approaching secretary, but even as Silver squatted down to pick up the Minox, he knew that in another second she’d see . . .
“So what do you think of
Fraülein Muller
’s ass?” Gold said casually, speaking to Silver as if she weren’t there. “Wouldn’t you like to get your hands on that?”
Silver heard the secretary’s footsteps come to an abrupt halt. Glancing up to peer between Gold’s legs, he saw that Lise had half turned away, hands raised to her face to hide her embarrassment. Silver snatched up the Minox and stuffed it down the front of his coveralls. It had disappeared by
Silver clipped one end of the chain to the camera, then slipped the ring around his left thumb. Bending over the desk, he placed his left hand next to the open report, then positioned himself so that the chain led directly up to the camera held in his right hand. In this way, the Minox was at the perfect distance for photographing documents. Peering through the miniature viewfinder, he took a couple of moments to adjust the focusing dial; when the typewritten print on the first page was sharp and clear, he went to work.
Silver had spent many hours in the resistance’s Paris hideaway learning how to use the Minox. The time was well spent. Again and again he pressed the tiny stud of the camera shutter, synchronizing it with the turning of each page. He didn’t read what he was photographing; every second was precious and couldn’t be used trying to comprehend material that only a scientist could fully understand. Although the Minox’s 9.5mm film cartridge held fifty exposures, the report had more than three times that many pages; afraid to miss any crucial information, Silver jumped ahead a few pages to snap pictures of bar graphs and tables that seemed important.
Then he came across a diagram that caused him to stop what he was doing. Staring at the cutaway drawing of a strange-looking aircraft, he suddenly realized that
Wa Pruf 11
had moved far beyond mere rocketry.
This was not a missile. This was something else entirely.
Silver snapped a picture of the diagram, then turned a couple of pages and found another that appeared interesting, a global map with a squiggly line curving up and down across the outer surface, like something hopping across Earth’s atmosphere. He’d just finished photographing it when Gold’s mop fell to the hallway floor.
Silver glanced up, saw the other spy through the open door. Gold pointed to his ear, then down the hall toward the stairs. Someone was coming up.
The Minox’s frame counter told Silver that he had seven exposures left, but there was no time to use them. Under no circumstances could he let himself get caught in Dr. von Braun’s office. Silver hastily turned the report’s pages back to where the technical director had left them, then detached the measurement chain from the camera. He stuffed the chain in his pocket and slipped the Minox back into the brush handle. One last look to make sure that everything was the way he’d found it, then in four quick steps he was out of the office.
Silver had just retrieved his broom from where he’d left it against the wall when Lise Muller emerged from the stairway. Even before he saw von Braun’s secretary, Silver knew that it was her; when she walked, the low heels of her patent leather shoes made a distinctive tap-tap-tap sound with which he and Gold had become familiar. He still had the horsehair brush in his hand; stepping past Gold, whose back was to the approaching woman, he reached out to put the brush back in the janitor cart.
Then its cover fell off and the Minox dropped onto the floor.
In an instant, Silver realized what had happened. In his haste to get out of the office, he’d neglected to close the two catches that locked the brush’s hidden compartment. Fortunately, Gold was standing between the camera and the approaching secretary, but even as Silver squatted down to pick up the Minox, he knew that in another second she’d see . . .
“So what do you think of
Fraülein Muller
’s ass?” Gold said casually, speaking to Silver as if she weren’t there. “Wouldn’t you like to get your hands on that?”
Silver heard the secretary’s footsteps come to an abrupt halt. Glancing up to peer between Gold’s legs, he saw that Lise had half turned away, hands raised to her face to hide her embarrassment. Silver snatched up the Minox and stuffed it down the front of his coveralls. It had disappeared by
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