Eighth Day [antikvár]

Germany 194.5They moved like shadows and killed in silence, the garrotte and blade their chosen weapons, striking in darkness near the heart of the enemy whilst invasion forces launched their attack on his armoured flanks.'What'11 we find when we get in there?' murmured their young commander, his blackened face close to the civilian beside him.'Horror,' came the taut reply. 'And knowledge. Years of research. They've had the time, the freédom, and the means.''So your ends justify their means?'Tm not here to judge - just to appropriate.''Will it be worth thehuman cost?'A black-clad figure emerged from the darkness and slumped before them, rank vomit on his breath and staining his tunic. 'Secured,' he gasped, turned away and retched drily.The civilian turned to the commander. 'You signed away your right of protest. Officially, you, your men, I, were never here. What we take out never existed. Neither history nor the British government will ever record any of it. Forget it all.''And what about the future?''The future is why we're here,' said the civilian and started forward.Their presence was a feeling thing. Watching them was all mind. She, the part of her which was female, shrieked at her eyes to open, wanting sight, desperate for hope, thrilling at their English voices, raging in the madness which lay in