The Aquaintaine Progession

by Ludlum, Robert

  The non sequitur momentarily threw JohnnyReb, who could only utter “Sorry about that” as helooked at Joel.

  It had been the most difficult decision Peter Stonehad made in all his years of agonising decisions. Tomake the wrong move to telegraph the incursion intothe complex at Scharho’rn"ould result in itsdestruction by the setting off of explosivesall over thecommunica*ons renter. There would be nothing left ofthe old U-boat station but shattered concrete andtwisted equipment. Stone had gone by instincts honedover a life*me in the shadow world There could be noelite commando units, no official specialforces orderedup Moran extraordinary assignment, for there was notelling who

  within the various government forces could be amember, an of finer of Aquitaine. Such a man couldmake a telephone call and the complex at Scharhornwould be blown up. Therefore the incursion had to bemade by rogue elements, men hired by outlaws whohad no allegiance to anyone or anything but moneyand their immediate employers. Nothing was a secretany longer without the master list of Aquitaine. ThePresident of the United States gave Stone twelve hours,after which he said he would convene an emergencysession of the Security Council of the United Nations.Peter Stone could hardly believe he had replied to themost powerful man in the free world with the words:“That’s meaningless. It would be too late. “

  The Rebel finished his briefing, his flashlight stillshining on the map spread over the hood of theMercedes. “As I told you, this is the original layoutwe got from the Zoning Commission in Cuxhaven.Those Nazis sure were particular when it came tospecifics I figure everyone was justifyin’ a salary ora rank. We get over the ocean radar and head to theold strip that was used for supplies, then do ournumber. Now, mind you, there are still a lot of lightsout there, still a lot of people, but a hell of a lot lessthan there were two days ago. There are some walls,but we got grappling hooks and a few boys whoknow how to use them.”

  “Who are they?” asked Converse.

  "No one you’d ask into your mother’s parlor, myfriend, but five of the meanest hornets you couldfind. I tell you they have absolutely no redeemingsocial qualities. They’re perfect.”

  “What’s the aircraft?”

  “The best Petey could get, and it’s the best. AFairchild Scout. It holds nine people.”

  “With a glide ratio of eight to one at fourthousand feet,” said Joel. “I’m flying.”

  Converse inched the half-wheel forward as hecut the engines and entered a left-bank glide overthe small airstrip 2,400 feet below. It was erraticallyvisible through the tails of low-flying North Seaclouds, but Joel guessed it could be seen clearly at500 feet. He would then start his final circle for theshort approach, his touchdown heading away fromthe old U-boat base, minimising sound the outsizedballoon tires made while braking. The maneuveritself was the nearest thing to a carrier landing hecould imagine, and he noted with satisfaction thathis hands were as steady as his concentration. Thefear he was afraid of did not materialise; it wasstrangely absent. The anxiety and the anger wereanother matter.

  Valerie and Lefevre over the Frenchman’sstrenuous objections remained behind on adeserted pier in Cuxhaven where Johnny Reb hadmanaged to install a primitive but functional relaystation. It was Val’s job to stay in radio contact withthe team either the Rebel or Converse operatingthe powerful handheld equipment onScharhorn and the former sergeant from Algierswas to stand guard, letting no one on that pier. Thefive “recruits”Johnny Reb had hired for apparentlylarge amounts of money were difficult to appraise,for they said very little and wore dark wool-knitcaps pulled down above their eyes and blackturtleneck sweaters pulled up around their throats.The same clothing was provided for Joel and theBritish computer expert, Geoffrey Larson; the Rebelhad his in the Mercedes. Each man, except Larson,carried a pistol with an attached silencer that washeld firmly in an extended holster strapped to hiswaist. On the left side of the black leather belt wasa long-bladed hunting knife, and beside it a coil ofthin wire. Situated in back, above the kidneys, andheld in place by clips, were two canisters of aMace-like gas that rendered their victims helplessand silent.

  The fact that each, including the aging Johnny Reb,wore his eqt"ipment with such casual authoritymade Converse feel out of place, but the degree ofconcentration they gave to the installation’s plansand the curt suggestions they had for gaining entryand subsequent explorations also made him feel thatthe Rebel had hired well.

  Joel circled slowly, delicately into his finalapproach, silently gliding over the darkened U-boatbase, his eyes on both the strip ahead and theinstrument-guidance altimeter. He struck the flapsand dropped; the heavy tires absorbed the jarringshock 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 morethan forty feet from the end of the airstrip. Joelremoved the knit hat, breathing deeply; his hairlineand forehead were drenched with sweat.

  “We’re going out.” The Rebel snapped off theradio and pressed it into the front of his chest; itstayed in place. “Oh,” he added, seeing that Conversewas watching him. I forgot to mention it. There’sheavy-duty Velcro around the case and on yoursweater.”

  "You’re full of surprises.”

  “You had a fair share yourself during the pastfew weeks. Let’s go catfishin’, boy.” Johnny Rebopened his door; Joel did the same, and theyclimbed out, followed-by Larson and the five men,three of them carrying rubberized grappling hooksattached to coils of rope.

  The second man who had said nothing during thestrategy session stood before Converse and spokequietly, startling Joel with his American accent. " I’ma pilot, mister, and that was supposed to be part ofmy 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. Thescenic Florida run.”

  “Come onI” The Rebel ordered, starting for theovergrown borders of the airstrip.

  They approached the high walls of the oldU-boat base, all crouching in the tall grass, studyingwhat was before them. Converse was struck by thesheer immensity of the unending thick concrete. Itwas like a fortress with no fort inside, no treasuredstructure that warranted the protection of the mas

  sive walls. The only break was over on the left, in asection that faced the airstrip. A pair of steel doubledoors layered with plates of bolted, reinforced ironstood ominously in the erratic moonlight. They wereimpenetrable.

  “This place has quite a history,” whisperedJohnny Reb beside Joel. “Half the German HighCommand had no idea it was here and the Alliesnever got a smell of it. It was Doenitz’s private base.Some said he was going to use it as a threat ifHitler didn t turn things over to him. "

  “It was also going to be used for something else,’said Converse, remembering Leifhelm’s incrediblestory of the rising of the Fourth Reich a generationafter the war. Operation Sonnenkinder.

  One of the men with a grappling hook crawledover and spoke to the Rebel in German. TheSoutherner replied angrily, looking pained, butfinally nodded as the man crawled away. He turnedto Joel.

  “Son of a no-account hound dog hitch!” heexclaimed under his breath. “He stole me blind! Hesaid he’d make the first assault on the eastflank which you know damn well that motherstudied if I guaranteed him an additional fivethousand 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 knowthe lad; we took a building once with the Meinhofinside. He scaled eight stories, dropped downthrough an elevator shaft, kicked a door open andshot 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 atJoel. “We do it because no one else will. Andsomebody has to do it. We may be rogues, son, butthere are times we’re on the side of the angels fora price.

  The muted sound of the rubberized grappling
hook taking hold on top of the wall split the air; therope stretched taut. In seconds the black-clothedman could be seen climbing hand over hand, racingup the dark concrete. He reached the ledge, his lefthand disappearing over the top, his right legswinging up as he vaulted into a prone position, hisbody level with the ledge of concrete. Suddenly heheld out his left arm waving it back and forth twice,a signal. Then bracing himself he reached for hisholstered weapon with his right hand and pulled itout slowly.

  A single spit was heard, and once more there wassilence as the man’s left arm shot out. A secondsignal.

  The two other men with grappling hooks racedout of the grass; flanking the first man, they swungtheir hooks in circles and heaved them up, eachaccurately as the ropes were yanked taut, and thenbegan scaling the wall. Joel knew it was his turn; itwas part of the plan if he was up to it and he wasdetermined to be. He rose and joined the remainingtwo men hired by the Rebel; the American pilot whohad spoken to him pointed to the center rope. Hegripped it and started the painful climb to the top ofthe wall.

  Only in the last extremity were the elderly JohnnyReb and the slender, professorial Geoffrey Larsonexpected to use the ropes. By his own admission theSoutherner might not be capable, and the risk ofinjury to the computer expert was unacceptable.

  Arms and legs aching, Converse was hauled upthe final inches by his German companion. “Pull upthe rope!” ordered the man in a heavily accentedwhisper. “Drop it slowly down the other side andreverse the hooks.”

  Joel did as he was told, and saw for the first timethe interior of the strange fortress and a uniformedman below on the ground, dead, blood trickling downthe center of his forehead from the incrediblyaccurate shot. In the intermittent moonlight he couldmake out a series of huge watery slips in the distancebroken up by concrete piers on which were giantwinches, black wheels of immense machinery, longout of use, relics of a violent past. In a semicirclefacing the U-boat docks and the sea were five lowconcrete one-story buildings with ’small windows, thefirst two dimly lit inside. The buildings were joinedby cement walkways, wide steps where they werenecessary, as the central structures were higher offthe ground; these no doubt had once been theofficers’ quarters, commanders of the behemoths thatprowled the deep waters of the Atlantic, killers foran abominable cause.

  Directly below the wall where the three ropesnow dangled were more wide steps that led up bothsides of what appeared to be a concrete podium orplatform, the area in front some kind of courtyard,perhaps two hundred feet wide, that led to the rearof the buildings facing the U-boat slips. A paradeground, thought Converse, visualising rows of subma-rine crews standing at attention, receiving orders andlisten

  ing to the exhortations of their of fleers as theyprepared once more to enter the deep in search oftonnage and carnage.

  “Follow me!” said the German, tapping Joel’sshoulder and grabbing the rope as he slid over thewall and lowered himself onto the concrete platformbeneath. On both sides the four men were on theirway down, one after the other. Converse, lessgingerly than the professionals, rolled over theledge, his hands gripping the rope, and slid to theground.

  The two men on Joel’s left raced silently acrossthe platform and down the steps toward the hugesteel doors. The two men on his right, as if byinstinct, ran down the opposite steps, returningbelow to crouch in front of the platform, theirweapons drawn. Converse, following the German,swiftly joined the pair at the doors. Both men werestudying the bolts and the layers of plating and thecomplicated lock with tiny flashlights.

  “Fuse it and blow it,” said the American.“There’s no alarm.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Joel. “From what Igathered, this whole place is wired.”

  "The trips are down there,” explained the otherpilot pointing toward the three-foot-high concretewall on each side of the parade ground.

  “Trips?”

  “Trip lights. Intersechng beams.”

  “Which means there are no animals,” said theGerman, nodding. “Keine Hunde. Sehr gut!”

  The fourth man had finished stuffing wads of asoft, puttylike substance into the lock mechanism,using his knife to finish the job. He then took out asmall circular device no larger than a fifty-cent coinfrom his pocket, layered another mound of thesubstance directly over the lock and plunged thecoin into it. “Move back,” he ordered.

  Converse watched, mesmerised. There was noexplosion, no detonation whatsoever, but there wasintense heat and a glowing blue-white flame thatliterally melted the steel. Then a series of clickscould be heard, and the American quickly slid backthe triple bolts. He pushed the right door open andblinked his flashlight outside. Moments later JohnnyReb and Geoffrey Larson walked through the doorinto the strange compound.

  “Trips,” repeated the American to the Rebel.“They’re all along those two walls,” he said, pointing.“See them?”

  “I can,” replied the Southerner. “And that meansthere’ll be a few shooting straight up on top fortiptoeing feet. All right, boys, let’s do a littlecrawling. Bellies down with knees and asseswiggling.” The six at the door joined the twocrouched in front of the platform. Johnny whisperedin German, then turned to Larson. “My Englishfriend, I want you to stay right here until usold-timers give you the high sign to catch up withus.” 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 $5,000richer in the lead, the seven men snaked their wayacross the old parade ground. Barely breathing,trousers torn, knees and hands scraped by the rough,cracked concrete. The German headed for the breakbetween buildings 2 and 3, counting from the right.It was a connecting cement path with gradually risingsteps on the left. He reached the open space andstood up.

  Suddenly he snapped his fingers once not veryloud but loud enough. Everyone froze where he wasunder the field of intersecting alarm beams.Converse turned his head on the ground to try to seewhat was happening. The German was crouched inthe shadows as a man came into view, a guard witha rifle slung over his shoulder. Aware of anotherpresence, the guard whipped his head around; theGerman lunged out of the shadows, his long-bladedknife arcing in midair toward the man’s head. Joelclosed his eyes, the sound of savagely expunged airtelling him more than he cared to know.

  The movement began again, and again, one byone, each member of the unit reached the path.Converse was soaked with sweat. He looked at therow of U-boat slips ahead and the sea beyond themand wished to God he could fall into the water. TheRebel touched his elbow, indicating that Joel shouldtake out his gun as the Southerner had done. It wasnow Johnny Reb who took the lead; he crept out tothe front of building 2 and turned right, crouchingclose to the ground, heading toward the lightedwindows. His fingers snapped; all movement stopped,bodies now prone. Diagonally to the left, by the edgeof a giant slip were the glow of cigarettes and thesound of men talking quietly three men, guardswith rifles.

  As if they had been given an order, three of thefive men hired by the Rebel which ones Conversecould not tell broke away and started crawling in awide arc toward

  the opposite side of the old U-boat berth.Approximately a minute and a half later thelongest ninety secondsJoel could remember abarrage of muted reports punctured the nightbreezes off the sea. The subsequent sounds wereminimal as hands clutched at heads and bodiessnapped before falling to the concrete ground. Thehired guns returned and Johnny Reb waved themforward, with Converse forced to be the last as mengrabbed his shoulders and passed him. Theyreached the only lighted window in building 2; theRebel stood up and inched his way to the glass. Heturned and shook his head; the unit proceeded.

  They came to the open space between buildings 2 and 2. Cautiously each man ran across, crouchingthe instant he reached the opposite edge and thenracing ahead. It was Joel’s turn; he got to his knees,then to his feet.

  “Horst? Bist das au?” said a man harshly, walkingout of a door and up the cement path.

  Converse stood motionless. The rest of the unitwas well past the edg
e of building 1 as the soundsof the North Sea crashing on the rocks in thedistance blocked out the intruder’s voice. Joel triednot to panic. He was alone, and if he panicked, hecould blow the operation apart, destroy the complexat Scharhorn, killing everyone, including ConnalFitzpatrick, if, indeed, the young commander wasthere.

  “Ja, ” he heard himself saying as he turned awayinto the shadows, his right hand reaching across hiswaist for the hunting knife. He could not trust hisgun in the darkness

  “Warten Sie einen Augen/,lick! Sin sind nicht Horst’”

  Joel shrugged, and waited. The footstepsapproached, a hand grabbed his shoulder. He spunaround, gripping the handle of the knife with suchforce that it nearly blocked out the terrible thing hismind told him he had to do. He grabbed the man’shair and brought the razor-sharp blade across thethroat.

  Wanting to vomit, he pulled the man into thedarker shadows; the head was all but severed fromthe body. He raced across the open space andcaught up with the others No one had missed him;each man was taking his turn peering into one ofthe four lighted windows in a row. Johnny Reb wasbeyond the first, successively pointing in differentdirections firmly, rapidly, and each man, after acrisp nod, ducked away. An assault was about to beimmediately executed. Converse raised himself tothe edge of the last window and looked in

  side. Instantly he understood why the Rebel had toact quickly. There were ten guards in what could onlybe described as paramilitary uniforms belonging tono recognisable army. Each was either strapping ona weapon, looking at his watch or crushing out acigarette. Then, more ominously, they checked theammunition clips in their rifles and automatics.Several laughed, raising their voices as if makingdemands at the expense of the others. Joel could notunderstand the words. He moved away from thewindow and confronted Johnny Reb, who was closeto the ground.

  "It’s a patrol going out, isn’t it?” whispered Converse.