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
Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt Page 106
