Fatal Network

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The turbid waters of the Rhine crept higher than normal along the stone barrier from heavy rain and melting snow. The confluence with the Mosel River pushed equally high as the two rivers met with a thundering crash. The few barges that risked the high water moved slowly upstream, or faster than normal down, apparitions of steel with running lights for eyes.

Charlie Johnson crouched in the darkness against the Monument to German Unity, skirting the bitter wind from the exposure of both rivers. He flipped the collar of his overcoat closer to his neck and then shoved his gloved hands deep into his front pockets.

Footsteps came and went as couples braved the bow-like point of the German Corner. The water was far too high and the wind far too fierce for anything more than a quick look and then a quickened pace back to their cars. And the darkness allowed no view. But just to stand at the very end of the German Corner, leaning forward against the metal chain, the Rhine to the right and Mosel to the left, made it feel as though the power of a great ship was behind them, moving swiftly through the river. Obscurity did nothing to diminish that feeling of power.

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