relatively harmless group of people in the name of religion-any religion.
A shout from below broke Leo’s reverie.
“Come on, Cardinal. We’re moving out.”
It was Alon, walking back up the hill with John from a scouting mission of the path along the riverbank to the south.
Leo deferred to Lev. “What do you think? Is it safe for us to leave this position now?”
“It’s probably vital. These are the kinds of places they will begin searching first. They’re bound to know that we’ll be seeking places of refuge that have the best chance of defense.”
“Ok then. Let’s get going.”
Leo joined the others and soon the entire group of men, women, and children were making their way down a winding path along the side of a steep cliff. Once down by the river, they continued walking south along a concealed dirt path that ran parallel to the riverbank. Alon and John took up a position a hundred yards ahead of the main group, weapons at the ready, while Moshe and some of the other men from the compound followed behind and covered the group’s retreat from the rear.
The men who had attacked the castle were not the only ones they were concerned with. The countryside had become a dangerous place since the plague had stopped the flow of food and other supplies from reaching nearby cities, forcing people from urban centers out into the surrounding countryside where they could forage for food in the fields. The French police and army were spread thin, and out here in the country, the situation had degraded into an every-man-for-himself mentality. After stockpiling the food they had grown themselves, the local farmers had barricaded their villages against the city dwellers. A new day had dawned around the world, and only the strongest and most prepared would survive.
Insects buzzed the fleeing families as they continued their slow trek beneath a canopy of overhanging trees. The water along this section of the riverbank looked deceptively still, its current running just below the surface. It was a striking metaphor for their situation; the woods around them looked calm and peaceful, yet there was an undercurrent of danger out there among the trees and fields, where men with guns hunted for anything that could keep them alive for just a few days longer.
Up ahead, Leo saw John running back in their direction, pointing down the river.
“There’s a big black river barge just up ahead.”
“Does it look old?” Lev asked.
“Very.”
“That will be the one we’re looking for. Let’s go.”
The group followed John around a bend until they came to a long barge tied to pilings that had been driven into the mud next to a wooden landing that was covered in leaves. Leo stood back and studied the aging vessel.
The barge reeked of oldness. The black paint on its thick planks was peeling off, and the cracked, dry wood of the railings was warped with age. Without waiting, Lev hurried up a squeaky plank to the deck.
Leo followed behind, while John and Alon began supervising the process of loading people and equipment onboard. Looking around at the flat deck, Leo was beginning to have his doubts. The boat had an odor about it that reminded him of the inside of a museum. It was as though the musty smell of river mud had permeated the wooden planks of the hull, daring it to float.
Rising only three feet above the weathered deck, a long structure with narrow windows ran down the center of the barge. Built low to allow the barge to pass beneath the many ancient bridges in this part of France, it also provided the added benefit of allowing light and air into the lower sections of the barge.
At the back of the barge was a small pilothouse that jutted only a few feet higher than the raised structure, making it obvious that steering the barge was accomplished from the stern section of the boat. Leo had just entered the pilothouse and was staring through the dusty windows when Lev walked up and joined him.
“Are you sure this is your friend’s barge?” Leo asked, peering through dusty windows that looked like they hadn’t been washed in years.
“Yes … positive.”
“I always thought barges were pushed by tugboats.”
“Most are, but the canal barges in Europe are self-propelled. The engine room for this one is right beneath your feet. Care to look around inside?”
“I don’t suppose it could be any worse off than the rest of the boat. I just hope this thing will make it all the way to the sea.”
Lev smiled. “Rest assured, my friend … it will. Barges like this have been plying the rivers and canals of France for hundreds of years.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Leo said, looking at the rusty gauges next to the steering wheel. “Do you think it’s wise to risk the children on something as old as this?”
“Their risk comes from something much greater if we don’t get going, Leo. Come on, I want to show you something.”
Opening a door that led below, Lev disappeared down some stairs. Ducking his head, Leo followed behind through the short opening into the darkness. He heard Lev fumbling around for a switch until, finally, the lights came on. Leo was shocked. The modern interior took him completely by surprise. A short hallway lined with artwork opened out into an immense space lined with dark cherry-wood paneling. Individual seating areas populated with tasteful leather and fabric furniture sat on Persian carpets that lay spread out on polished, hard wood floors, while recessed canned lighting highlighted brown granite counter tops in a large state-of-the-art kitchen that flowed into an entertainment area that included pool tables and wide screen TV’s. In short, the interior looked like a layout in Architectural Digest magazine, and it was huge. There was enough space for over a hundred people.
“What in the world is this, Lev?”
“It’s my friend’s vacation home. He also uses it for corporate retreats. He’s hosted more than a few lavish parties onboard this boat. The barge is really only a couple of years old, but he wanted it to look old and beat up on the outside to discourage anyone from breaking into it when he wasn’t around, plus some other reasons we’ll go into later. Of course, he has a state-of-the-art security system, but so far this low tech tactic has proven to be his best defense. No one has ever bothered trying to burglarize this boat, and I’m counting on its unassuming appearance to work to our advantage as we make our way down to the sea.”
“It sure fooled me,” Leo said, watching Lev grin as he lit one of his ever-present cigars. “And you enjoyed every minute, watching me squirm, didn’t you?”
“I have to admit, Leo, it was fun. Come on, let’s get everyone down below before anyone spots them and starts asking questions.”
It took only a few minutes to get everyone below decks while Moshe fired up the diesel engines and ran a check of all the systems. Up on deck, several of the men pulled in the lines securing the boat to the shore, and soon the beat-up looking barge was motoring smoothly down the river.
CHAPTER 38
As the sun dipped in the west, the barge was half-way to the coast when one of the lookouts on the bow spotted a group of tough-looking men standing on a bridge-a bridge the barge would soon be passing under.
Armed to the teeth with various types of weaponry, Alon and John were crouched down in the pilothouse deciding on a plan of action if they proved to be hostile. For now, the situation called only for close observation; they would have to watch and wait.
Posing as bored deckhands, the Israelis kept their weapons hidden from sight under tarps as they sat on deck and made a show of playing cards and drinking wine. As the bow of the barge passed beneath the bridge, their muscles tensed when they noticed that the men above were watching their progress with more than casual interest, and at least one of them was holding a rifle that looked like an AK-47.
Feigning disinterest, Alon waved overhead. The man waved back before lighting a cigarette.
