German's chest. Again, he used the bulkhead and
his braced legs to shinny himself up the wall; he was
in shadows, with a clear view of the bow and,
through both wheelhouse windows behind him, the
stern of the boat. In sight were the fore and aft
pilings on both sides, the lines looped around the
thick protrusions of weather-beaten logs. The two
crewmen were sitting on a storage hatchway, smok-
ing cigarettes, one drinking from a can of beer. "All
right," said Joel, clicking the hammer back on the
automatic a weapon he was not sure he could use
accurately within ten feet. "Open that door and give
your orders. And if either of those men down there
does anything but free those ropes, I'll kill you. Can
you understand that?"
"I understand . . . everything you say, but you do
not understand me. I search you for drugs not a
grosse Mann the Polizei do not go after such
people, they leave them alone.
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 441
They go after the small people who use the
riverboats. It makes them look good, you see. I
would not hurt you. I only protect myself. I want to
believe what my Neffe nephew told me, but I must
be sure."
"Your nephew?"
"The seaman from Bremerhaven. How you think
he got his job? Ach, main Bruder sells flowers! It is
his Frau's shop! He once sailed the oceans as I did.
Now, he is a Blumenhandler!
"I swear to Christ I don't understand anything,"
said Joel, partially lowering his gun.
"Maybe you understand if I tell you he offered to
pay me one half of the fifteen hundred dollars you
pay him."
"A consortium of thieves."
"Rein, I not take. I tell him buy a new Gitarre."
Converse sighed. "I have no drugs. Do you believe
me?"
"Ja, you are only a fool, he told me. Rich fools
pay more. They cannot tell people how foolish they
are. The poor do not care."
"Do those little bromides run in the family?"
"What?"
"Forget it. Give the orders. Let's get out of here."
"Ja. Watch through the windows, please. I do not
want you to be more afraid. You are right. A man
afraid is much more dangerous."
Joel leaned back against the bulkhead as the
captain shouted his orders. The engines started and
the lines were released from their pilings. It was so
contrary, he thought. Hostile, belligerent men who
struck out in anger were not always his enemies,
while pleasant, seemingly friendly people wanted to
kill him. It was a world he knew nothing about, a
long stretch from a courtroom or a boardroom where
courtesy and "killing" could mean a variety of things.
There were no such grey areas a hundred years ago
in the camps and the jungles. One knew who the
enemy was; the definition was clear on all sides. But
during the past four days he had learned that there
were no defined lines for him now. Converse stared
out the window, at the pockets of mist rising out of
the water, a few spiraling up to catch the early light
in their clouds of vapor. His mind went blank. He
did not care to think for a while....
"Five, perhaps six minutes," said the captain,
swinging the wheel to his left.
442 ROBERT LUDLUM
Joel blinked; he had been in a peaceful,
rest-filled void, for how long he was not sure. "What
are the procedures?" he asked, conscious of the
rising orange sun firing what was left of the river
mists. "I mean, what do I do?"
"As little as you can, answered the German. "Just
walk like you walk the pier every morning and go
through the repair yard to the street. You will be in
the south part of the town of Lobith. You will be in
die Niederlande and we never saw each other.
"I understand that, but how?"
"You see that Bootshafen?' said the captain,
pointing to a complex of docks with heavy winch
machinery and hoisting devices across the water.
"It s a marina. '
Ja, marina. My second petrol tank is empty I
say I test. I stall the engines three hundred meters
offshore and go in. I yell at the Dutchman's price
but I pay, because I do not buy from the deutsche
thief this far downriver. You get off with one of my
crew, have a cigarette and laugh at your stupid cap-
tain then you walk away.
"Just like that?'
''la. ,,
"It's so easy.
"la. No one said it was difficult. You only have
to keep your eyes clear.
"For the police?"
"Nein," said the captain, shrugging. "If there is
Polizei they come to boat, you stay on board."
"Then who am I looking for?"
"Men who may watch you, may see you walk away.
'
"What men?"
"Gesindel, Gauner what you call scum. They
come each morning to the piers and look for work,
most still drunk. Watch for such men. They will
think you have drugs or money. They will break
your head and steal."
"Your nephew told me to watch the men on
your own boat."
"Only the new man, he is a Gauner. He chokes
on his beer hoping it will clear his head. He thinks
he fools me but he does not. I keep him on board,
tell him to scrape the rail something. The other is
no problem for you. He is loyal to me an Idiot with
a strong back and no head. The riverboats do not
hire him. I do. Verstehen?"
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 443
'1 think so. By the way, I have to get to
Amsterdam. Is there a train here?"
"No train in Lobith. You take the omnibus to
Arnhem. The train to Amsterdam is in Arnhem. I
use it many times when my ships dock in die
Niederlande. The omnibus stops at the railroad
station. Not long ride."
"Ships? Large ships?" asked Joel, struck by the
captain's words.
"I once sailed the oceans, not a stinking river.
Fifteen years of age I ship out with main Bruder. By
twenty-three I am Obermaat 'petit' officer good
money, good life.... Very happy." The German
lowered his voice as he throttled back the engines
and spun the wheel starboard; the boat skidded on
the water. "Why talk? It is over," he added angrily.
"What happened?"
"It is not for you, Amerikaner. " The captain
pushed the throttle forward; the engines coughed.
"I'm interested."
"Warum? Why?"
"I don't know. Maybe it takes my mind off my
own problems," said Converse honestly.
The German looked briefly at him. "You ask?
Okay. We never see each other.... I stole money,
much money. It took the company purser nine
months to find me. Aber, ach, he find me! It was
many years ago. No more oceans, only the
. ,,
ever.
"But you said you were
making good money.
Why did you steal?"
"Why do most men steal?"
"They need it the money or they want things
they can't have normally, or they're just basically
dishonest, which I don't think you are."
"Go back. Adam stole the apple, Amerikaner."
"Not exactly. You mean a woman?"
"Many years ago. She was with child and she
did not want her man on the seas and the ships.
She wanted more." The captain permitted himself
the slightest glint in his eyes and a touch of a smile
on his lips. "She wanted a flower shop."
From the core of his stomach, his pain
momentarily forgotten, Joel laughed. "You're quite
a guy, Captain." I never see you again."
"Then your nephew "
"Never see you again!" the German broke in, now
laugh
444 ROBERT LUDLUM
ing out loud himself, his eyes on the water as he
headed into the Dutch marina.
Converse leaned against a piling smoking a
cigarette, the visor of his cheap cap angled over his
forehead, his eyes roaming up and down the pier
and beyond to the repair yard in the Dutch marina.
The men milling about the huge machinery were
mechanically going about their tasks while those
around the boats seemed more intent on inspecting
than doing, shaking their heads solemnly. The
captain argued with the dispenser of fuel, making
obscene gestures at the rapidly climbing figures on
the glass-encased face of the pump while his
softheaded deckhand grinned several feet away. On
board, the Gauner alternately leaned over the
railing, a large wire brush in his hands, and abruptly
turned back to his scraping whenever his employer
glanced over at him.
The time was right, thought Joel as he pushed
himself away from the piling. No one anywhere had
the slightest interest in him; the dismal chores and
the early-morning dissatisfactions took precedence
over the insignificant and unfamiliar.
He started walking up the pier, his pace casual
to the point of being slovenly but his eyes alert. He
proceeded to the edge of the repair yard
approaching a row of hulls in dry dock. Beyond the
last elevated boat, no more than three hundred feet
away, was an inordinately tall hurricane fence and
an open gate. A uniformed guard sat on the left
drinking coffee and reading a newspaper, his chair
angled back into the crisscrossing wire mesh. Seeing
him, Joel stopped, his breath suspended, an internal
alarm going off for no reason. Men passed back
and forth through the gate, but the guard did not so
much as glance at anyone, his eyes devouring only
the tabloid on his lap.
Converse turned, a last look at the river.
Suddenly he became aware of the captain. The
German had run to the base of the pier and was
gesturing wildly, pressing his hands forward in short,
rapid strokes. He was trying to warn Converse.
Then he shouted at the top of his lungs; men stared
at him and turned away, none caring to be involved.
They had seen too much in the early hours on the
waterfront, the slashing with hooks too frequently
the language of the docks.
"Laugh Run! Get oral!"
Joel was mystified; he looked around. Then he saw
them.
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION "5
Two no three burly men were lurching up from the
pier, their glassy eyes focused on him. The first man
staggered forward to the left of the captain. The
Cerman grabbed his shoulder, swinging him around,
stopping him, but only for seconds as the other two
men crashed their fists into the captain's neck and
spine. They were animals Gauner their nostrils in-
flamed by the scent of a trapped fat quarry who
might keep them in food and drink for days.
Converse dove under the row of dry-docked
boats, smashing his head on several hurts as he
scrambled toward the other side and the shafts of
light beyond. He could see frantic legs pounding the
earth behind him; they were gaining on him; they
were running, he was crawling. He reached the end
of the suspended row of hulls, sprang out and started
for the gate. He pulled out his shirt, tore off the
lower section and held it against the cuts on his head
as he walked rapidly past the guard and through the
gate. He looked around. The three men were arguing
furiously, drunkenly, among themselves, two
crouching and peering unsteadily under the boats.
Then the man standing saw him. He shouted to the
others; they stood up and started after Joel. He ran
faster, unfit he could see them no longer; the animals
had given up.
He was in the Netherlands; the welcome was less
than gracious, but he was there, one step closer to
Amsterdam. On the other hand he had no idea
where he was right now except that the town was
named Lobith. He had to catch his breath and think.
He stepped into a deserted storefront, where a dark
shade behind the entrance made the glass a dim
mirror it was enough. He was a mess. Think. For
God's sake, think)
Mattilon had told him to take the train from
Arnhem to Amsterdam, he remembered that clearly.
And the captain of the barge had said he had to take
an "omnibus" from Lobith to Arnhem; there was no
train in Lobith. The first thing he had to do was
reach the railroad station in Arnhem, clean himself
up, then study the crowds and judge whether to risk
becoming part of them. And relative to this
consideration, his mind darted in several directions
at once. The plain-lensed glasses had long since
disappeared, undoubtedly during the insane events in
Wesel; he would replace them with dark glasses.
There was little he could do about the scrapes on his
face, but they would appear less menacing after soap
and water, and certainly in or around a railroad
station something could be done about his torn
clothing.... And a map. God
446 ROBERT LUDLUM
damn it, he was a pilot! He could reach Point A
from Point B and he had to do so quickly. He had
to reach Amsterdam and find a way to make
contact with a man named Cort Thorbecke and
call Nathan Simon in New York. There was so
much to do!
As he walked out of the storefront he was
suddenly aware of what was happening to him. It
had happened before a lifetime ago, in the j
tingles when the fear of the night sounds had
passed and he c ould watch the dawn and accurately
plot his directions, his lines of march, his survival.
He was thinking, his mind functioning again. All
things considered, he was far less the man than
what he had been, but he could be better than he
was he had to be. Every day that passed brought
the generals of Aquitaine cl
oser to whatever
madness they were planning. Everywhere. He and
they had to reverse roles. The hunted had to
become the hunter. Delavane's disciples had
convinced the world he was a psychopathic assassin,
and so they had to find him, take him, kill him and
hold him up as one more example of the spreading
insanity that could be contained only with their
solutions. Aquitaine had to be exposed and
destroyed before it was too late. The countdown
was in progress, the commanders surely, inexorably,
moving into their positions, consolidating their
powers.
Move! shouted Converse silently to himself as he
walked faster down the pavement.
He sat in the last car of the train, still wary but
satisfied by the progress he had made. He had done
everything cautiously but without wasting mohon,
his concentration absolute, aware of a dozen
possible dangers eyes that stared at him, a man or
a woman seen twice in too short a bme, a clerk
delaying him by being more helpful than the hour
and the crowds would normally permit. These
calculated possibilities were his readouts, his dials,
his gauges; without clearance he would abort all
forward motion, takeoff canceled, the escape hatch
sprung, safety found in the streets. His equipment
was not an aircraft that was an extension of himself,
it was himself; and he had never flown with such
precision in his life.
ENGLISH SPOKE had been the sign tacked to
the roof of the busy corner newsst.md in Lobith. He
had asked directions to the "omnibus" to Arnhem
Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt Page 69
