Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt

by The Aquitaine Progression [lit]

  looked at Joel.

  It had been the most difficult decision Peter Stone

  had made in all his years of agonising decisions. To

  make the wrong move to telegraph the incursion into

  the complex at Scharho'rn~ould result in its

  destruction by the setting off of explosivesall over the

  communica*ons renter. There would be nothing left of

  the old U-boat station but shattered concrete and

  twisted equipment. Stone had gone by instincts honed

  over a life*me in the shadow world There could be no

  elite commando units, no official specialforces ordered

  up Moran extraordinary assignment, for there was no

  telling who

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 679

  within the various government forces could be a

  member, an of finer of Aquitaine. Such a man could

  make a telephone call and the complex at Scharhorn

  would be blown up. Therefore the incursion had to be

  made by rogue elements, men hired by outlaws who

  had no allegiance to anyone or anything but money

  and their immediate employers. Nothing was a secret

  any longer without the master list of Aquitaine. The

  President of the United States gave Stone twelve hours,

  after which he said he would convene an emergency

  session of the Security Council of the United Nations.

  Peter Stone could hardly believe he had replied to the

  most powerful man in the free world with the words:

  "That's meaningless. It would be too late. "

  The Rebel finished his briefing, his flashlight still

  shining on the map spread over the hood of the

  Mercedes. "As I told you, this is the original layout

  we got from the Zoning Commission in Cuxhaven.

  Those Nazis sure were particular when it came to

  specifics I figure everyone was justifyin' a salary or

  a rank. We get over the ocean radar and head to the

  old strip that was used for supplies, then do our

  number. Now, mind you, there are still a lot of lights

  out there, still a lot of people, but a hell of a lot less

  than there were two days ago. There are some walls,

  but we got grappling hooks and a few boys who

  know how to use them."

  "Who are they?" asked Converse.

  'No one you'd ask into your mother's parlor, my

  friend, but five of the meanest hornets you could

  find. I tell you they have absolutely no redeeming

  social qualities. They're perfect."

  "What's the aircraft?"

  "The best Petey could get, and it's the best. A

  Fairchild Scout. It holds nine people."

  "With a glide ratio of eight to one at four

  thousand feet," said Joel. "I'm flying."

  41

  Converse inched the half-wheel forward as he

  cut the engines and entered a left-bank glide over

  the small airstrip 2,400 feet below. It was erratically

  visible through the tails of low-flying North Sea

  clouds, but Joel guessed it could be seen clearly at

  500 feet. He would then start his final circle for the

  short approach, his touchdown heading away from

  the old U-boat base, minimising sound the outsized

  balloon tires made while braking. The maneuver

  itself was the nearest thing to a carrier landing he

  could imagine, and he noted with satisfaction that

  his hands were as steady as his concentration. The

  fear he was afraid of did not materialise; it was

  strangely absent. The anxiety and the anger were

  another matter.

  Valerie and Lefevre over the Frenchman's

  strenuous objections remained behind on a

  deserted pier in Cuxhaven where Johnny Reb had

  managed to install a primitive but functional relay

  station. It was Val's job to stay in radio contact with

  the team either the Rebel or Converse operating

  the powerful handheld equipment on

  Scharhorn and the former sergeant from Algiers

  was to stand guard, letting no one on that pier. The

  five "recruits"Johnny Reb had hired for apparently

  large amounts of money were difficult to appraise,

  for they said very little and wore dark wool-knit

  caps pulled down above their eyes and black

  turtleneck sweaters pulled up around their throats.

  The same clothing was provided for Joel and the

  British computer expert, Geoffrey Larson; the Rebel

  had his in the Mercedes. Each man, except Larson,

  carried a pistol with an attached silencer that was

  held firmly in an extended holster strapped to his

  waist. On the left side of the black leather belt was

  a long-bladed hunting knife, and beside it a coil of

  thin wire. Situated in back, above the kidneys, and

  held in place by clips, were two canisters of a

  Mace-like gas that rendered their victims helpless

  and silent.

  680

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 681

  The fact that each, including the aging Johnny Reb,

  wore his eqt~ipment with such casual authority

  made Converse feel out of place, but the degree of

  concentration they gave to the installation's plans

  and the curt suggestions they had for gaining entry

  and subsequent explorations also made him feel that

  the Rebel had hired well.

  Joel circled slowly, delicately into his final

  approach, silently gliding over the darkened U-boat

  base, his eyes on both the strip ahead and the

  instrument-guidance altimeter. He struck the flaps

  and dropped; the heavy tires absorbed the jarring

  shock of contact. Touchdown.

  ' We're down," said Johnny Reb into the radio.

  And with a little luck we'll stop, won't we, son?"

  "We'll stop," said Converse. They did, no more

  than forty feet from the end of the airstrip. Joel

  removed the knit hat, breathing deeply; his hairline

  and forehead were drenched with sweat.

  "We're going out." The Rebel snapped off the

  radio and pressed it into the front of his chest; it

  stayed in place. "Oh," he added, seeing that Converse

  was watching him. 1 forgot to mention it. There's

  heavy-duty Velcro around the case and on your

  sweater."

  'You're full of surprises."

  "You had a fair share yourself during the past

  few weeks. Let's go catfishin', boy." Johnny Reb

  opened his door; Joel did the same, and they

  climbed out, followed-by Larson and the five men,

  three of them carrying rubberized grappling hooks

  attached to coils of rope.

  The second man who had said nothing during the

  strategy session stood before Converse and spoke

  quietly, startling Joel with his American accent. ' I'm

  a pilot, mister, and that was supposed to be part of

  my job. I'm glad it wasn't. You'r? good, man."

  "Where did you fly? With whom?"

  ' Let's say a new kind of Peruvian airline. The

  scenic Florida run."

  "Come onI" The Rebel ordered, starting for the

  overgrown borders of the airstrip.

  They approached the high walls of the old

  U-boat base, all crouching in the tall grass, studying

  what was be
fore them. Converse was struck by the

  sheer immensity of the unending thick concrete. It

  was like a fortress with no fort inside, no treasured

  structure that warranted the protection of the mas

  682 ROBERT LUDLUM

  sive walls. The only break was over on the left, in a

  section that faced the airstrip. A pair of steel double

  doors layered with plates of bolted, reinforced iron

  stood ominously in the erratic moonlight. They were

  impenetrable.

  "This place has quite a history," whispered

  Johnny Reb beside Joel. "Half the German High

  Command had no idea it was here and the Allies

  never got a smell of it. It was Doenitz's private base.

  Some said he was going to use it as a threat if

  Hitler didn t turn things over to him. '

  "It was also going to be used for something else,'

  said Converse, remembering Leifhelm's incredible

  story of the rising of the Fourth Reich a generation

  after the war. Operation Sonnenkinder.

  One of the men with a grappling hook crawled

  over and spoke to the Rebel in German. The

  Southerner replied angrily, looking pained, but

  finally nodded as the man crawled away. He turned

  to Joel.

  "Son of a no-account hound dog hitch!" he

  exclaimed under his breath. "He stole me blind! He

  said he'd make the first assault on the east

  flank which you know damn well that mother

  studied if I guaranteed him an additional five

  thousand American!"

  "And you'll pay, of course."

  "Of course. We're honorable men. If he's killed,

  every penny goes to his wife and children. I know

  the lad; we took a building once with the Meinhof

  inside. He scaled eight stories, dropped down

  through an elevator shaft, kicked a door open and

  shot the bastards cold with his Uzi on rapid fire.

  "I don t believe all this,' whispered Converse.

  "Believe, ~ said the Rebel softly as he looked at

  Joel. "We do it because no one else will. And

  somebody has to do it. We may be rogues, son, but

  there are times we're on the side of the angels for

  a price.

  The muted sound of the rubberized grappling

  hook taking hold on top of the wall split the air; the

  rope stretched taut. In seconds the black-clothed

  man could be seen climbing hand over hand, racing

  up the dark concrete. He reached the ledge, his left

  hand disappearing over the top, his right leg

  swinging up as he vaulted into a prone position, his

  body level with the ledge of concrete. Suddenly he

  held out his left arm waving it back and forth twice,

  a signal. Then bracing himself he reached for his

  holstered weapon with his right hand and pulled it

  out slowly.

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 683

  A single spit was heard, and once more there was

  silence as the man's left arm shot out. A second

  signal.

  The two other men with grappling hooks raced

  out of the grass; flanking the first man, they swung

  their hooks in circles and heaved them up, each

  accurately as the ropes were yanked taut, and then

  began scaling the wall. Joel knew it was his turn; it

  was part of the plan if he was up to it and he was

  determined to be. He rose and joined the remaining

  two men hired by the Rebel; the American pilot who

  had spoken to him pointed to the center rope. He

  gripped it and started the painful climb to the top of

  the wall.

  Only in the last extremity were the elderly Johnny

  Reb and the slender, professorial Geoffrey Larson

  expected to use the ropes. By his own admission the

  Southerner might not be capable, and the risk of

  injury to the computer expert was unacceptable.

  Arms and legs aching, Converse was hauled up

  the final inches by his German companion. "Pull up

  the rope!" ordered the man in a heavily accented

  whisper. "Drop it slowly down the other side and

  reverse the hooks."

  Joel did as he was told, and saw for the first time

  the interior of the strange fortress and a uniformed

  man below on the ground, dead, blood trickling down

  the center of his forehead from the incredibly

  accurate shot. In the intermittent moonlight he could

  make out a series of huge watery slips in the distance

  broken up by concrete piers on which were giant

  winches, black wheels of immense machinery, long

  out of use, relics of a violent past. In a semicircle

  facing the U-boat docks and the sea were five low

  concrete one-story buildings with 'small windows, the

  first two dimly lit inside. The buildings were joined

  by cement walkways, wide steps where they were

  necessary, as the central structures were higher off

  the ground; these no doubt had once been the

  officers' quarters, commanders of the behemoths that

  prowled the deep waters of the Atlantic, killers for

  an abominable cause.

  Directly below the wall where the three ropes

  now dangled were more wide steps that led up both

  sides of what appeared to be a concrete podium or

  platform, the area in front some kind of courtyard,

  perhaps two hundred feet wide, that led to the rear

  of the buildings facing the U-boat slips. A parade

  ground, thought Converse, visualising rows of subma-

  rine crews standing at attention, receiving orders and

  listen

  684 ROBERT LUDLUM

  ing to the exhortations of their of fleers as they

  prepared once more to enter the deep in search of

  tonnage and carnage.

  "Follow me!" said the German, tapping Joel's

  shoulder and grabbing the rope as he slid over the

  wall and lowered himself onto the concrete platform

  beneath. On both sides the four men were on their

  way down, one after the other. Converse, less

  gingerly than the professionals, rolled over the

  ledge, his hands gripping the rope, and slid to the

  ground.

  The two men on Joel's left raced silently across

  the platform and down the steps toward the huge

  steel doors. The two men on his right, as if by

  instinct, ran down the opposite steps, returning

  below to crouch in front of the platform, their

  weapons drawn. Converse, following the German,

  swiftly joined the pair at the doors. Both men were

  studying the bolts and the layers of plating and the

  complicated lock with tiny flashlights.

  "Fuse it and blow it," said the American.

  "There's no alarm."

  "Are you sure?" asked Joel. "From what I

  gathered, this whole place is wired."

  'The trips are down there," explained the other

  pilot pointing toward the three-foot-high concrete

  wall on each side of the parade ground.

  "Trips?"

  "Trip lights. Intersechng beams."

  "Which means there are no animals," said the

  German, nodding. "Keine Hunde. Sehr gut!"

  The fourth man had finished stuffing wads of a

  so
ft, puttylike substance into the lock mechanism,

  using his knife to finish the job. He then took out a

  small circular device no larger than a fifty-cent coin

  from his pocket, layered another mound of the

  substance directly over the lock and plunged the

  coin into it. "Move back," he ordered.

  Converse watched, mesmerised. There was no

  explosion, no detonation whatsoever, but there was

  intense heat and a glowing blue-white flame that

  literally melted the steel. Then a series of clicks

  could be heard, and the American quickly slid back

  the triple bolts. He pushed the right door open and

  blinked his flashlight outside. Moments later Johnny

  Reb and Geoffrey Larson walked through the door

  into the strange compound.

  "Trips," repeated the American to the Rebel.

  "They're all along those two walls," he said, pointing.

  "See them?"

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 685

  "I can," replied the Southerner. "And that means

  there'll be a few shooting straight up on top for

  tiptoeing feet. All right, boys, let's do a little

  crawling. Bellies down with knees and asses

  wiggling." The six at the door joined the two

  crouched in front of the platform. Johnny whispered

  in German, then turned to Larson. "My English

  friend, I want you to stay right here until us

  old-timers give you the high sign to catch up with

  us." He looked at Joel. "Sure you want to come?"

  "I won't bother to answer that. Let's go.'

  One by one, with the German who was $5,000

  richer in the lead, the seven men snaked their way

  across the old parade ground. Barely breathing,

  trousers torn, knees and hands scraped by the rough,

  cracked concrete. The German headed for the break