Robert Ludlum – Aquatain Progression

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 before 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,

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