Low Flight of Angels in the Benelux

by Ed Hurst

  The must have dozed off because someone was asking for them by their alternative names. Preston vaguely remembered only using any names at all with the camp registry. When he opened his eyes, it was a fellow in rather expensive cycling gear, standing back a bit holding his even more expensive racing bike upright against his hip. They sat up and Preston said, “Hello.” The man leaned his bike against the wall nearby, and then sat next to them, removing his helmet and gloves. Anyone would have thought him a dashing manly fellow, rather handsome and tall.

  “I’m so glad you made it. No one had any idea if you could ride that far, but I was told you two were rather fit, so it seemed a good bet.” He held out his hand and shook each in turn. “You can call me Gary.”

  He turned and glanced at their bikes. “I believe you two made good choices for the kind of riding you do. Money well spent.” He turned and regarded them with a benign smile.

  “We liked your paper, Gary,” Angie offered.

  “Good, good. Can we take a stroll?” He pointed under the old bridge.

  They rose and began walking slowly alongside. Gary clasped his hands behind his back. “I did contribute to that paper, and I’m hoping to get translations made soon. I was told one of you could handle French, and apparently it is so. I take it you’re on board with this?”

  Preston spoke up, “If I understand things correctly, it would be hard to imagine work we would enjoy more. We guessed it is something rather like investigative photographers plus a little more.”

  “Good way of putting it,” Gary said. They were under the bridge, in the shadow and out of earshot from any other people, so Gary stopped and faced them. “I work in an international law firm, and part of my responsibilities include banking law, treaties and publishing. We are private partners sharing the management of several businesses. On paper, you are contracted to the publishing house.” He pulled out a business card with his name, the company name and yet another address in Luxembourg City.

  It was then Preston first noticed the man wore rather large a fanny pack. He had slipped it around to one side where he could reach it easily. He pulled out another object in a dark plastic wrapper. “This is a lawyer’s type of cellphone that we use. Some numbers are pre-programmed. In the bag are two extra SIM cards. I’m sure you are able to figure out when to use them. When it’s off, it’s really off. The encryption is very powerful. No one can track you without special permission. You’ll use it to call us more than us calling you.”

  He reached into the bag again and produced yet another darkly wrapped bundle somewhat larger. “This should take care of your camera problems. It’s got a fat hard drive and can hold two extra memory cards. The battery is pretty long life and you’ll have more extensive controls, better lens and better zoom. The lights can be turned off and the screen muted to the point only someone right next to you can see it, yet it can obtain fairly sharp images in the very lowest light conditions. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

  He glanced around a bit, and then touched his finger to his lips. “The man you sprayed was partly involved in this awful trade in human flesh. The dead body on the barge was going to blow the whistle. You already know they play for keeps. Had the whistle blower called us first, she might still be alive to talk. Your assailant’s death puts some of their business on hold. Meanwhile, the children are still being brought into the area and sold off to pimps. The bus you saw was a load of them. They clone the names of real travel agencies, but with a slightly different spelling. Thanks to your sharp eye, we know where to look for the latest distribution point.”

  Gary paused a moment. “We work though all sorts of various agencies; that’s not your concern. Just get us the info and things will happen. Try to avoid contact with anyone but our people. Fighting for you life is fine, but we have no heroes.”

  Preston nodded, “Amen to that.”

  Gary chuckled. “One more thing. I need to you spend a day or two hanging out with the climbers in Berdorf. Among them is an American who pretends to be Belgian. He is a new recruit for the bad guys and we need a picture if you can identify him.”

  Gary glanced at his watch. Then he grabbed them each by the hand, shaking in the same manner as Mr. Venkman. “Thank you so much. Your hosts back in Valkenburg will cashier your pay.” He abruptly turned and nearly ran back to his bike. In seconds he had his riding gear back on and was walking his bike up to the pavement.

  Preston looked at the two packages. “Wow. This is more work than I ever thought I could do.”

  Chapter 19

  The biggest shock was inside the wrapper of the camera.

  There were two passports from some small Caribbean nation in their fake names and matching Eurail passes. “That should smooth things out a bit, eh Daphne?”

  Angie chuckled. “I’ll try to get used to that name. Angie I like, but Daphne feels rather pretentious for me.”

  Preston checked and all the proper border stamps were there. Then he noticed the images were current. “Wonder how they did that?”

  “I would guess it was that information booth in Rotterdam. It would be easy to hide a camera in all that stuff,” Angie suggested. “I seem to recall there was a blank wall directly behind us.” She pointed to the background in the passport photos.

  “Oh well, the less we know, the better it is for everyone.” He stuffed his US passport inside a utility bag inside his backpack, along with his monthly Dutch train pass.

  Angie copied his actions with her EU ID card. She looked at her Dutch rail pass and sighed. “It will expire next month any way.”

  They spent the evening in their tent examining the two new pieces of equipment. Preston discovered that the camera could upload live video feeds via a long cable to the cellphone. He could keep the phone out of sight in a pocket while uploading. The contacts list included one marked “upload.” He showed it to Angie. “Better than bluetooth, because wireless can be intercepted. Our boss really splashed out some serious moolah.”

  Angie was frankly excited. She was enthusiastic about tomorrow, too. She had only heard of Little Switzerland and was itching to try some of the easier climbs.

  So the next morning, they pushed their bikes inside the tent and locked them together. Then they hiked across the bridge for breakfast. There were so very many different cafes and restaurants that they just picked one at random and had a fine breakfast of sausages and eggs.

  The hike up the valley was just a kilometer or so before it offered access to the wooded trails. They followed it back around the promontory overlooking their campground. Preston experimented with the camera a bit, as always, looking for the most unusual angle. Then he handed the camera to Angie and she tested a few ideas. He told her, “I’m very proud to say, my sweet apprentice, you are just about ready to work without supervision.”

  She grabbed him around the neck and they almost slipped off the trail ledge together. They had a good laugh and continued up and down the trails. The place was dotted with stairs cut into the rock face. The early morning rush of climbers was already under way.

  Angie started shooting some of the action while Preston watched. She managed a couple of easy free climbs and took a few shots from the top.

  The whole time he was trying to think what sort of thing a younger person might do that would give away an American upbringing. With so many young Europeans spouting lines from American films and other popular English phrases, it was clear that wasn’t any kind of clue.

  So they spent two days this way, hiking in the mornings around the area with the camera, taking extensive footage. They’d grab lunch on the way back and try to examine all the videos as privately as possible. On the second day, Preston saw something that caught his eye. Angie was at the controls.

  “Back up one. Yeah. Now zoom in on that one.” He pointed to one of the faces. The young fellow had his thumb up and pointed back over his shoulder. “Do Dutch or Belgian kids do that?”

  “What? The raised thumb? It’s a rude gesture, whic
h means most kids do it.”

  “It’s not just the raised thumb, but pointing with it,” he explained.

  They began checking other footage and saw him twice more. They also noticed that not a single one of the other kids used that gesture in quite that way. “Let’s hope he’s still around tomorrow and doesn’t notice us.”

  There really were no other good candidates, so the next day they hunted around the climbing areas where they had caught him every time so far. He wasn’t there. After a long wait, they decided to hike around a bit. They had no luck. They decided to have lunch at the friture out front of the campground up in Berdorf.

  Preston spotted their quarry. He was sitting next to one of the tents, packing up his gear. As carefully as possible, Preston opened the camera, then nudged it around until the young fellow was in the frame and started recording video. The fellow sat chattering more than working on packing his gear. Preston watched as several times the fellow used his thumb to point. Apparently his friends were used to it, though they didn’t copy the action.

  Angie and Preston made an effort to avoid any further behavior that wasn’t casual. They took their time, and when the food was gone, they slowly got up chattering in Dutch. Then they took the shortest route back down to the campsite near the bridge. Preston felt a strange sense of needing to hurry. Not because it was the last day they had planned to stay, but something he couldn’t quite identify. He advised Angie to start some of the packing. Even this late in the day, they probably needed to be somewhere else soon.

  The open wifi nodes were strong and plentiful down by the river. He processed the video footage into a single file, and then added a few still shots from the other shooting. These were bundled and encrypted, then uploaded to the drop box. He added a quick message on the mail server:

  High probability in the dropbox. Feel like getting out of Dodge.

  Then he finished packing up the rest of the stuff. Angie asked rather quietly, “Where to?”

  Preston had been holding something in his mouth while using his hands to fold it. Upon extracting the item, he quietly said, “Trier.”

  Keeping to the German side of the river, they pedaled a few kilometers downriver to Ralingen. Just outside the village, Preston steered onto a wood path on the left side. Checking now and then to make sure Angie was keeping up, he geared down and began following a switch back climb up the ridge. It was hard and slow, at times requiring they dismount, but they got over the top and coasted a short way along a paved road into the village of Kersch. From there it was mostly crooked back roads. The route took them down into a valley and over the next ridge, then another valley and ridge. The windmill farm would have been more interesting had they the time to look. As they dropped off the next slope, their lane ran into a major road, past a very large industrial park, and it was almost all downhill into Trier.

  At times they rode the brakes pretty hard on switchbacks, but eventually got down into the city. It was such a beautiful place, very ancient, perched on the banks of the Mosel. Again, Preston had little time to look around until they crossed the busy downtown section to the train station.

  He had Angie negotiate passage for the bikes. They were in luck, because they could ride in the car with them. He consulted the schedule and a map displayed nearby. After a couple of times back and forth, he whispered to Angie, “I think Herzogenrath is a good target. If it feels comfortable, we’ll go on to Heerlen. From there I could find my way home in the dark.”

  Once they were on the train, he encouraged her to nap if she could, but she had too many questions in her mind. He closed his eyes, but sleep was far away.

  Chapter 20

  There were a couple of layovers and train swaps, but each time the bikes were not much of a problem. The special cars were marked with a bike symbol.

  It was nearly dark when they arrived at Herzogenrath. Preston decided it was safe to ride the train on into Heerlen, but they had to change trains for it. While they were waiting, the station was nearly empty.

  Angie glanced around, and then asked, “Can you tell me what’s the hurry?”

  “Maybe I’m just stupid, but my instincts said someone else was onto us there. Not the kid we were looking for, but maybe someone else watching him. Whether it was his friends or not, it just seemed it wasn’t friendly with us. I don’t get spooked that often, so I went with it.”

  She stretched up and kissed his cheek. “That’s good enough for me.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments. Then he added, “My hunch also was that they weren’t easily able to follow bicycles. In the direction we went, we could have gone almost anywhere. That same route could allow us to circle back around where the Mosel swallows the Sûre just south a ways from Echternach. I’m willing to bet our boss came from that direction, because the main highway goes over to Luxembourg City from there.”

  A moment later, he continued, “I didn’t want whoever it was to think anything at all, really, just that we were gone. One of the nice things about traveling by bicycle is nobody pays much attention to you. Unless they can actually follow us somehow, they aren’t likely to get random witnesses to say whether they even remembered us.”

  Finally their train pulled into the station. Once aboard, they decided to ride all the way to Schin op Geul. From there, it was only a short ride, but a steep uphill climb right at first.

  They were never so glad to see the red door of their apartment again.

  Chapter 21

  The message came in their email the next morning.

  Bingo; good eye. We believe someone tried to follow you. Here’s hoping you succeeded in losing them. Rescued about half the bus kids; another setback for them. Send more ordinary shots for our general collection.

  They spent the day relaxing and organizing their work. Angie turned out to be quite good at it, and he insisted she needed a bigger system to work with here at home. Then he got up and stood behind her, pulling apart the braids as she worked. He brushed her hair out thoroughly, and then began rubbing her shoulders and back. She groaned and nearly collapsed face down on the little table. She slept hard that night. The next morning, she returned the favor, and then some.

  As they lay clinging to each other, Preston observed, “We broke the rules.”

  She raised her head up, “What rules?”

  “You climbed the rocks and were away from me. I could see you, but we weren’t physically close,” he explained.

  “You encouraged me.”

  “Yes, I did. Sometimes the rules don’t apply, like when we were camping in Saint Vith. Still, we have to be careful.” He kissed her forehead. “I’d hate to have someone steal you from me now.”

  She giggled that enchanting girlish sound.

  After breakfast, he asked their hostess how he should go about getting Angie a good workstation. She thought for a moment. Suddenly she said, “Leftovers.”

  “Leftovers? Not much of that in our refrigerator.” He was pretty sure she didn’t mean food and grinned at his own joke.

  She laughed. “Not food; computers. Every business buys that stuff. Some buy lots of it. Let me check amongst our associates. You may need to pay something but that should still be less than retail or even wholesale. Then I want you to check it thoroughly for anything that’s out of place, because we never really trust anyone.” She turned and started for the door. “Give me a day or so and I’ll let you know.”

  He turned to Angie. “Meanwhile, I think we need to go back to where we started.”

  “Wablieft?” She was puzzled.

  Preston grinned. “Geographically. I still have some stuff I left in my room at Harry’s place, and I need it. Electronic gadgets, tools, software, so forth.”

  “Oh. Then maybe I can take a formal letter of departure to the school. I don’t have anything there I need, but they will want me to take my stuff away.” She went to find some paper and a pen.

  They hiked cross-country into Wijlre and caught the train. While waiting, Preston de
cided to test his new cellphone, sending a text message he hoped Harry would read before they arrived. Angie composed her letter as they rode. A couple of train changes and they got off around noon at Hazerswoude, just a few kilometers from Hoogmade. It was their good fortune to find the fish wagon in one of the parking lots near the river. It was essentially a motor home converted into a sea food shop on wheels. Such vehicles typically kept a regular route through villages too small for any kind of full service locally. There was a similar thing with grocery wagons. The fish wagon also had frying vats behind the counter, so lunch was quick and easy, eating fried breaded cod wrapped in paper as they walked.

  There was no direct route, but taking a narrow lane along the polders required only an hour to reach the marina. Naturally, Harry hadn’t seen the message. He wasn’t even around the place. Preston gathered his small collection and stuffed it into a couple of travel bags. He didn’t relish lugging the baggage, but it had to be. They caught the bus and worked their way to Haarlem. It was only a few hundred meters to the school from where they got off.

  Angie had warned him he couldn’t come inside the place. Much as he didn’t like losing sight of her, he agreed to wait in a small open area nearby with a couple of benches. He poked around his conscious mind a bit and decided the uncomfortable feeling was just a feeling. It was nonetheless an unpleasant wait. His pocket beeped a notice of incoming text message. Had she reactivated her old phone?

  No, it was Harry. He was sorry he missed his friend and insisted they not lose touch. Preston knew Harry couldn’t sit still for ten minutes unless he was sailing. During the few weeks he had stayed at Harry’s place, Preston spent less than two hours total time with him. They would keep in touch by email and the forums, but Preston’s life was on a totally different track right now.

  The distraction did him good, because he was surprised to see Angie walking back toward him with a large nylon duffel bag, and her small backpack was now bulging. She sat down next to him and they kissed. “I didn’t realize how much it would bother me,” she said.