A couple of minutes passed, but then Nabestemm holstered his pistol, took off a handglove and genuflected to stroke the flat weirdness. Wiselmann looked on. Nabestemm then gasped as he felt the object wasn't smooth, but flat nonetheless.
"It does feel like compressed steel," he observed:
"You mean, sir?" Wiselmann tapped on the thing with his foot.
"Well, it is definitely steel, judging by these oxidation marks...or rather: a mixture of different metallic materials." He used his gloved hand to indicate the rusted spots.
"It isn't smooth, but rather rough, which is why I believe it was some kind of object that has been compressed into a plate."
Wiselmann walked across the plate, dragging his feet as though he wanted to feel it through the rubber of his boots. "But what kind of an object, then?"
E.D.
12-03-2014 om 15:53
geschreven door E.D. 
Categorie:Novel extracts
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