CHAPTER SEVENTEEN #3
“Come on, we gotta get out of here,” Gabe said as we rounded the ship, jumping over the thick rubber pipes that connected the ship to mains water and sewage.
We left the dry dock shed and found ourselves in a bank of trees that backed onto the marina.
The atmosphere here was so removed from the drama of escaping that we both paused in our tracks and took in the quiet mundanity before us.
The marina was made up of a collection of prefabricated cabins; one had signage that showed it was a shop for residents and holiday makers to buy last minute supplies.
Another was an office for boat rentals, and a third looked like someone’s home.
In the open garden was a bench surrounded by twee cast resin sculptures of gnomes, rainbow plastic toy windmills that spun in the cool breeze, and there was a wishing well.
“What does that say?“Nate asked, no longer using Gabe’s raspier voice.
He pointed to a sign that I translated as Shipyard at the Grey Pike,.
I knew Berlin well; it was one of those walkable cities where you could have the best of worlds, city life, good public transport and nature right on the doorstep.
“Thank fuck! We’re not too far out of the city, thirty minutes by car, maybe?” I informed with relief.
“It‘s half-six now, we’ve got to get out of here before those meatheads escape. Follow me,” Nate instructed.
Then he was off, keeping his body low, as he headed toward a rack of kayaks.
I immediately knew what he was going to do and mirrored him, taking down a solo kayak from the rack, and then a double-bladed paddle.
Together, on light feet we hurried down the pier, past yachts, sail boats, and small barges moored there.
With just the gentle clinking sound of boats and rigging, and no cries of alarm we got to the end of the pier and laid the kayaks on the water.
I stabilized Nate’s kayak while he climbed in.
He then stabilized mine as I stepped in and took my position. We each grabbed double blade paddle.
“Across the lake or up the river?” Nate queried.
“We need to find a main road. I’d say we go up river.” It was a bright morning that I was sure was going to become another scorcher of a day. We pushed off and floated away from the pier. It was then I heard someone shouting in German, not one of the henchmen, but a woman.
“Hey, komm zurück, du kannst nicht einfach meine Kayaks nehmen!“ (Hey, come back here, you cannot just take my kayaks!)
I looked right to see a grey-haired woman in her late fifties had come out of one of the marina cabins.
Nate and I shared a worried look and then began to paddle in earnest. Nate’s paddling style was low, stealthy, and fast. In moments he was moving like a machine, cutting through the water, and it was awe-inspiring.
I copied his technique and together we flew up the river, leaving the calls of “Stoppen Sie den Dieb! “ (Stop, thief!) behind us.
The river itself was gorgeous, banked on either side by mature willow trees, and houses whose gardens came down to the water and their private moorings.
No one was following us and so, alone on this gorgeous stretch of water we relaxed to a more leisurely pace.
Ten minutes later, our only companions were ducks, swans, and small birds twittering in the willow trees along the bank.
I had a feeling we were on the River Havel, and if we kept going, we would eventually get back to the city centre.
But this wasn’t a Lord of the Rings quest!
The tiered arches of a large iron bridge loomed in the distance—an overpass for a federal highway into the city.
I called to Nate, “We’ll get out under the bridge and climb the embankment, then walk from there until we find a bus stop, train station or a taxi,”
“Roger that!” he called back, appearing serine and in his element.
The closer we paddled to the bridge the easier it was to see that the road above carried heavy goods vehicles and cars in and out of the city.
Nate pulled over to the concrete abutment under the bridge and I steadied his kayak while he stepped out.
He then helped me get out. We pulled the kayaks onto the bank and left them with the paddles.
They were labelled with the marina address, so hopefully they’d find their way back.
“Jack, hang on, we need to ditch these guns,” Nate stated. I’d forgotten that I’d taken the weapons from the henchmen, and Nate was right, we couldn’t keep the guns. Nate tossed his into the river, and I followed suit, secretly hating that I’d littered in such a beautiful waterway.
We climbed the steep grassy embankment and onto the highway above. I was relieved to see a road sign that told me we were close to Berlin Olympic stadium, this helped me to orient myself. We began to walk up the road following the traffic heading into the city.
“What time is it?” I asked as we found a Metrobus stop. “Seven-thirty-eight,” Nate replied. I checked the timetable. “There should be an M49 bus here in a few minutes. It’ll take us as far as the zoo. Buses take credit cards so were all good,” I explained.
Five minutes later, the bus arrived and a fifteen minute ride through the city brought us to Zoologischer Garten station. From there, it was a simple taxi ride to our hotel.
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