Page 25 of Beehive
Arty pointed to the one with the most dots, the hottest and largest blaze. “Kulturhistorisches Museum Viktoria, one of the last surviving imperial museums in Germany.”
“It’s massive.” Will grabbed the page out of my hand and stared closely at the complex that spread across two entire blocks. “How did something that large make it through all the bombing runs?”
Manakin grunted. “Good luck, we suppose. As you can see, most of the surrounding buildings were devastated.”
Now it was my turn to lean across Arty and point at the page Will held. “What about these smaller clusters? There’s four—no, five where the Soviets conducted ten or more actions last week.”
Will’s eyes widened. “They’re art galleries. I know that one. It housed some of Germany’s rising artists’ works. And that one, there. It’s—”
“They’re all art houses,” Loon cut in. “Get on with it, please.”
Will lowered the page. We both stared at the sour woman. Her lips were more puckered than a duck’s ass.
“You see our dilemma?” Manakin said. “We believe whatever the Soviets are looking for is related to art somehow. Perhaps there is a recipe for some chemical weapon Hitler was working on taped onto the back of a painting. What if nuclear secrets were sealed in a concrete slab made to look like a King’s tomb? We have no idea—and having no idea worries Washington more than if we knew they’d designed a new type of submarine and were sailing toward San Diego.”
“That would be something,” Will muttered.
Arty elbowed him.
Loon rolled her eyes.
“All right,” I said, trying to keep us on track. “We go in using the artsy cover. Our German is solid, but Russian? I’m all right. Will couldn’t order vodka in a bar.”
“Hey!”
I reached across Arty again and patted Will’s arm. “Sorry, it’s true, comrade.”
Loon’s whole forehead shot upward as she looked from Will to me then down at my hand on his arm. “Are you two—”
“Longtime OSS partners, yes,” Manakin cut her off, shooting me a meaningful glare.
Damn if the man didn’t know all our secrets despite being separated by an ocean and a war for half a decade. “This is going to be dangerous. The Soviets are ruthless and not afraid to use locals to get what they want. Their agents areeverywhere, and they’ve bugged every hotel room in the sector. Hell, they’ve probably bugged every hotel in all the sectors by now. You will need to assume you are being watched and listened to every moment of every day.”
“They can’t be more brutal than the Nazis,” Will said.
“They’re different but no less brutal. They’revengeful.” Manakin grimaced. “This is where Stork comes in. He has a few things for you that should help even the odds a bit.”
Will and I turned to face Arty.
Rather than shrink beneath our scrutiny like he did back in college, he seemed to grow larger and sit up straighter under the weight of our gazes. Without acknowledging our stares, he reached under the table and produced a wooden box the size of several loaves of bread. Removing a key from a chain about his neck, he unlocked the box and lifted the lid.
“You remember my job before you left for the war, what I was doing at Harvard?” he asked looking between us like an unfortunate tennis fan seated on the center line.
“Yeah,” Will answered. “Researching better bombs and shit.”
“And shit.That’s accurate, if a bit vague.” Arty chuckled. “My job shifted after you left. Lizzy—sorry, Elizabeth continued working on weapons. She now works in a highly classified section a thousand miles above your pay grades. I, on the other hand, moved into a more specialized group helping arm our intelligence community with more effective tools for, um, more delicate work.”
“Arty, it feels like we’re back on campus,” I said. “I still have no idea what you’re saying.”
He grinned. “I make gadgets even you two can’t screw up.”
9
Will
“Weren’t you making gadgets before?” I asked. “I mean, you did give Thomas that really cool garrote thingy, though I suspect he might’ve preferred non-lethal gifts for Christmas.”
Arty chuckled. “I’m Jewish, remember? What do I know about shopping for a spy’s Christmas presents?”
