“When they see the smashed glass, they’ll know someone broke in.”
“What do you care? You’re leaving tomorrow!”
“All right.”
They took off their shoes and crept out into the corridor. They went down the stairs silently and put their shoes back on when they reached the door. Then they stepped outside.
It was now after eleven, and night had fallen. At this hour, no one would normally be moving about the grounds, so they had to take care not to be seen from a window. Fortunately there was no moon. They hurried away from the Red House, their footsteps muffled by grass. As they reached the church Harald glanced back, and saw a light in one of the senior rooms. A figure crossed the window and paused. A split second later, Harald and Tik had turned the corner of the church.
“I think we might have been seen,” Harald whispered. “There’s a light on in the Red House.”
“Staff bedrooms all look out onto the back,” Tik pointed out. “If we were seen by someone, it must have been a boy. Nothing to worry about.”
Harald hoped he was right.
They circled the library and approached the science building from the rear. Although new, it had been designed to match the older structures around, so it had redbrick walls and composite casement windows each made up of six panes of glass.
Harald took off a shoe and tapped a window with its heel. It seemed quite strong. “When you’re playing football, glass is so fragile,” he murmured. He put his hand inside the shoe and hit the pane hard. It broke with a noise like the last trump. The two boys stood still, aghast at how loud it had been; but silence descended as if nothing had happened. There was no one in the nearby buildings-the church, the library, and the gymnasium-and, when Harald’s heartbeat quietened, he realized that the smash had gone unheard.
He used his shoe to knock out the jagged edges from the frame. They fell inside onto a laboratory bench. He put his arm through and unlatched the window. Still using the shoe to protect his hand from cuts, he reached inside and swept the shards to one side. Then he climbed in.
Tik followed, and they closed the window behind them.
They were in the chemistry lab. Astringent smells of acids and ammonia stung Harald’s nostrils. He could see almost nothing, but the room was familiar, and he made his way to the door without crashing into anything. He passed into the corridor and found the door to the darkroom.
Once they were both inside, Tik locked the door and switched on the light. Harald realized that, as no light could get into the darkroom, none could escape either.
Tik rolled up his sleeves and went to work. He ran warm water into a sink and busied himself with chemicals from a row of jars. He took the temperature of the water in the sink and added hot until he was satisfied. Harald understood the principles, but had never tried to do this himself, so he had to trust his friend.
What if something had gone wrong-the shutter had not operated properly, or the film had been fogged, or the image was blurred? The pictures would be useless. Did he have the nerve to try again? He would have to go back to Sande, climb that fence in the dark, sneak into the installation, wait for sunrise, take more pictures, then attempt to escape in daylight, all over again. He was not sure he could summon up the strength of will.
When all was ready, Tik set a timer and turned off the light. Harald sat patiently in the dark while Tik unrolled the exposed film and began the process that would develop the pictures-if there were any pictures. He explained that he was bathing the film first in pyrogallol, which would react with the silver salts to form a visible image. They sat and waited until the clockwork timer rang its bell, then Tik washed the film in acetic acid to stop the reaction. Finally he bathed it in hypo to fix the image.
At last he said, “That should do it.”
Harald held his breath.
Tik turned on the light. Harald was dazzled for a few moments, and could not see anything. When his vision cleared, he peered at the length of grayish film in Tik’s hands. Harald had risked his life for this. Tik held it up to the light. At first Harald could not make out any images, and he thought he would have to do it all again. Then he remembered he was looking at a negative, on which black appeared white and vice versa; and he began to make out the shapes. He saw a reverse image of the large rectangular aerial that had so intrigued him when he first saw it four weeks ago.
He had succeeded.
He looked along the row of images and recognized each one: the rotating base, the clustered cables, the grid taken from several angles, two smaller machines with their tilting aerials, and finally the last picture, a general view of all three structures, taken when he was on the edge of panic. “They came out!” he said triumphantly. “They’re great!”
Tik looked pale. “What are these pictures of?” he said in a frightened voice.
“Some new machinery the Germans have invented for detecting approaching aircraft.”
“I wish I hadn’t asked. Do you realize what the punishment is for what we’re doing?”
“I took the pictures.”
“And I developed the film. God in heaven, I could be hanged.”
“I told you it was this kind of thing.”
“I know, but I didn’t really think it through.”
“I’m sorry.”
Tik rolled the film and put it in its cylindrical container. “Here, take it,” he said. “I’m going back to bed to forget that this ever happened.”
Harald put the canister in his trousers pocket.
Then they heard voices.
Tik groaned.
Harald froze, listening. At first he could not make out the words, but he felt sure the sounds came from within the building, not outside. Then he heard the distinctive voice of Heis say, “There doesn’t seem to be anyone here.”
The next voice belonged to a boy. “They definitely came this way, sir.”
Harald frowned at Tik. “Who. .?”
Tik whispered, “It sounds like Woldemar Borr.”
“Of course,” Harald groaned. Borr was the school Nazi. It must have been he who saw them from the window. What bad luck-any other boy would have kept his mouth shut.
Then there was a third voice. “Look, there’s a broken pane in this window.” It was Mr. Moller. “This must be how they got in-whoever they are.”
“I’m sure Harald Olufsen was one of them, sir,” said Borr. He sounded pleased with himself.
Harald said to Tik, “Let’s get out of this darkroom. Maybe we can prevent their learning that we’ve been doing photography.” He flicked off the light, turned the key in the lock, and opened the door.
All the lights were on, and Heis was standing right outside.
“Oh, shit,” said Harald.
Heis was wearing a shirt without a collar: he had obviously been on his way to bed. He looked down his long nose. “So it is you, Olufsen.”
“Yes, sir.”
Borr and Mr. Moller appeared behind Heis.
“You’re no longer a pupil at this school, you know,” Heis went on. “It’s my duty to call the police and have you arrested for burglary.”
Harald suffered a moment of panic. If the police found the film in his pocket, he would be finished.
“And Duchwitz is with you-I might have known,” Heis added, seeing Tik behind Harald. “But what on earth are you doing?”
Harald had to persuade Heis not to call the police-but he could not explain in front of Borr. He said, “Sir, if I could speak to you alone?”
Heis hesitated.
Harald decided that if Heis refused, and called the police, he would not surrender gracefully. He would make a run for it. But how far would he get? “Please, sir,” he said. “Give me a chance to explain.”
“Very well,” Heis said reluctantly. “Borr, go back to bed. And you, Duchwitz. Mr. Moller, perhaps you’d better see them to their rooms.” They all departed.
Heis walked into the chemistry lab, sat on a stool, and took out his pipe. “All right, Olufsen,” he said. “What is it this time?”