Haddock felt freezing cold. It had started to rain sometime during the night, and his clothes were soaking wet. A flock of seagulls was making a huge racket at the end of the pier. He remembered having climbed the fence the night before, right over the no trespassing sign, and found a nook along the edge of the warehouse to sleep in. He had finished the two dollar gallon jug of red wine that had been on sale at the supermarket, and passed out. The jug lay empty beside him, not a drop to be seen inside it. Nonetheless, he tilted it upwards and shook the vessel over his opened mouth, in case a drop or two might still find their way out. He tasted a small drop, but it was rain water and not cheap wine. Suddenly a security guard came walking briskly towards him.
The security guard didn't address Haddock, but stood about twenty feet away from him, talking on his cell phone. Haddock got up and walked past the guard. He walked to the fence, but as he began to try to climb it, the guard's hand was suddenly on his shoulder.
"Stay right there sir." The guard commanded. "I've called the cops. You're trespassing. Just wait until they get here."
Haddock didn't have the strength to resist. A few minutes later, the police arrived and placed him in handcuffs.
"Have a nice day." The security guard said to him, as the policemen led him to the cruiser, and the guard walked back to his warm office. Haddock spent the next five days in jail, where the stench of urine, and cries of pain and sorrow through the night, brought him deeper and deeper into insanity.
After being released back onto the streets, he went back to his routine of begging, buying booze, and finding a safe place to sleep for the night. He had arrived in San Francisco twenty years earlier, with Tintin and professor Calculus. They had sold Marlinspike Hall, along with all of their assets, to start a technology company. Haddock never understood what the company produced. It was apparent from the start, that Calculus was the brains behind the operation, and Tintin would always find something to do to please Calculus, and he worked very hard at it. Haddock on the other hand, never knew what to do. Tintin quickly became very bossy, trying to get Haddock to set up social networking sites and promote the company, but whatever Haddock did, Tintin and Calculus would always scoff at him. His drinking soon spiraled out of control. In any case, with or without Haddock, after five years the company went under.
Calculus had been devastated at first. How could he Cuthbert Calculus, the genius inventor fail? But he did fail. Before they had come to San Francisco, Calculus had done a great deal of smooth talking. Tintin and Haddock had become convinced, that his new super computer would really change the world. They became greedy at the thought of becoming billionaires. Not only that, but Calculus had promised them a meaningful existence in an exciting, sunny and fun filled environment, far away from the stuffy, stuck up confines of 'Old Europe'.
It was true that Haddock had felt some boredom, during a long spell without adventure. Calculus had told him that moving to California would be like taking command of a vast ship of unimaginable size. He was told to picture a thousand super-tankers fused together with a thousand aircraft carriers, and he, Captain Haddock, would be in command of that vast ship. He had fallen for it, and his routine of drinking expensive whiskey in a quaint European country estate, had turned into a routine of sleeping behind dumpsters, and drinking cheap wine and malt liquor on the streets of San Francisco.
After Calculus' dream had been shattered, Tintin soon found jobs for Calculus and himself at a Washington, D.C. think tank, where the two of them could get their lives back together. Tintin did not find a job for Haddock, and did not invite him to come to Washington with them.
"Well, best of luck to you. I hope things work out for you." Had been Tintin's final words to him, before he and Calculus had left for the airport, from their dingy apartment in the South Bay suburbs, with an eviction notice now posted to the door. All three men had not only given up their life savings to support Calculus' dream, but they had also taken on massive debt, and were behind in every payment imaginable. The following morning, San Mateo County Sheriff's deputies had arrived to make sure the premises would be vacated. They had pounded violently on the door, startling Haddock as he lay on the floor drooling and wallowing in self pity.
Haddock hated himself. He knew he had only himself to blame for his misery, but he also cursed others for deceiving him. He remembered when he used to be a ship's captain in the old days, before Oakland had become the main port of the Bay Area, how he used to sail through the Golden Gate and dock right in the heart of San Francisco, and then stroll the streets with pride in his seaman's uniform. He would drink in the taverns and soak up the atmosphere of the old Barbary Coast city, before shipping off to other exotic ports around the world. He wished he could go back to those times, but he was scared. He didn't know what scared him so. He spent every waking minute terrified of a thousand different things, and the only way he knew to numb the fear, was to drink. He often thought of returning to Europe, but he didn't know what awaited him there. He had no living relatives, and had lost touch with all his friends. The only thing preventing him from committing suicide was the fear of the physical pain he might endure before he died. He often stood on the Golden Gate Bridge, thinking of what it would be like to jump, but he was too afraid to do it, and for that he also hated himself.
One day Haddock was sitting on the sidewalk, on the Embarcadero, with his tattered old seaman's cap turned upwards on the ground in front of him, a small cardboard sign with PLEASE HELP stenciled on it laying next to the cap. He was angry, thinking of Tintin and Calculus. He suddenly felt rage at the thought of them. He muttered angrily to himself, and rocked back and forth as he crouched on the sidewalk. They had been plotting against him all along he thought to himself. They had always hated him. He knew he was despicable, but they were even more despicable he told himself. They had betrayed him. They had always hated him and made fun of him. He began to cry. The pain of the betrayal and humiliation was unbearable. He made strange screeching and groaning noises in his anguish. Passersby began making a wide arc around him.
Suddenly he saw Nestor walking on the other side of the street. It was a long way across the lanes of traffic and streetcar tracks, but he knew it was Nestor. There had been many times over the past years, where in his inebriated state, he had thought he had seen a familiar face, ran after that person shouting his name, only to be dejected by a surprised and disgusted looking stranger. Those moments had been excruciatingly painful and embarrassing. Leaving his cap and his sign behind, as if driven by some external power, he leaped up and ran across the street. Cars honked at him, an approaching streetcar vehemently rang its bell, but he continued with remarkable agility. Suddenly though, he stopped on a narrow strip of traffic island in the middle of the busy thoroughfare. He watched the retreating figure. What if he was mistaken? The pain, and feelings of emptiness and desolation would be unbearable. He gulped and made his way across the remaining lanes of traffic. He followed from a distance, careful not to lose sight of the man he felt right now, might be his only hope left in the World.
The Captain walked up alongside the man and quietly asked. "Excuse me, are you Nestor?"
The man paused and turned his head with an expressionless stare. For a brief moment the Captain thought maybe it really was Nestor, but maybe he also wanted to have nothing to do with him. Haddock felt afraid.
"Captain Haddock, is it you? Is that really you?" Nestor asked.
"Yes Nestor, it's me Haddock." The Captain replied. "I'm sorry to trouble you. I need help. I'm alone. I need help."
Suddenly the Captain burst into tears. Large tropical downpour sized salty tears. He wailed and sobbed uncontrollably. Nestor felt no embarrassment. His former boss was his friend for life, and his friend right now needed help. That was all there was to it. Nestor bent down and gently took the Captain in his arms.
"It will be alright." He said to the Captain. "Everything will be alright. You have nothing to be afraid of. I will stay with you. Please don't be afraid of anything. I promise you, you will be alright."
Nestor's words briefly brought the Captain some relief. His crying subsided momentarily. He trusted Nestor and felt a sense of protection in his arms, he hadn't felt in years. Then he burst into tears again, and Nestor held him patiently, as his uncontrollable sobbing gradually subsided.
Twenty minutes later, Captain Haddock was in the shower in Nestor's room, at a clean mid range business style hotel in the Financial District. Nestor was on the phone ordering tea and sandwiches from room service. The Captain got into a clean bathrobe, and sat on the couch, while Nestor sat in the chair next to him. The Captain tried to talk, but he couldn't formulate a coherent sentence without stammering and tears rolling down his cheeks. Nestor told him that there was no hurry. They could stay in this room for perhaps another week, and then see from there. If he wanted to, the Captain could fly back to Europe with him. The tea and the food came, and they ate in silence.
After they had eaten, Nestor calmly told the Captain everything that had happened to him, after he had been let go, when Marlinspike Hall had been sold. He had accumulated a decent sum of money, having saved frugally over the years while serving first under the Bird brothers, and later the Captain. He also enjoyed a modest government pension. He bought a flat in Salzburg, as he enjoyed the mountains, Mozart and the living conditions there. He mostly traveled to nearby European destinations, Munich, Vienna, Venice, Prague etc, but had decided to see the United States once during his lifetime. He had flown to Boston, bought a car there, and visited New York, Chicago, the Grand Canyon, Las Vegas, L.A., and had finally driven up the coast and sold the car to a dealer, just outside San Francisco. He was scheduled to fly back to Salzburg the next day, but he got on the phone and managed to change his reservation to one week later for a nominal fee. He also phoned the hotel desk, and was able to extend his stay for another week. Suddenly the Captain wished they could just fly back to Europe together the very next day. Later that afternoon, Nestor bought a ticket for the Captain to fly to Salzburg together with him, on the same flights the following week.
The Captain gradually opened up to Nestor about what had occurred over the past twenty years. The biggest immediate challenge was controlling the Captain's alcohol consumption. For the first two nights, it was not a problem. The Captain slept soundly on the cot, snoring loudly, without having consumed any alcohol. After that however, the Captain couldn't sleep at night. He began to shake, but Nestor stayed awake with him, telling him it would be better not to drink. Nestor had bought clothes for the Captain at some of the stores around Union Square, and during the following days, they visited the Belgian Consulate to get a new passport for the Captain, having long since lost his old passport. Luckily Nestor was able to arrange for a copy of the Captain's birth certificate to be faxed over from Belgium, since the Captain had lost all his documents over the years. They also had to get a stamp from the U.S. authorities in Haddock's passport, stating that he was still a U.S. permanent resident, so he wouldn't encounter any difficulties when leaving SFO. He had gained his residency with the help of some hot shot lawyers, when he had come over with Tintin and Calculus.
As Nestor and the Captain strolled around downtown, the Captain saw many old acquaintances begging in the streets. He was haunted by the memories of nights spent in the Tenderloin, puking and pissing on the sidewalk, and later passing out in another man's feces in an alleyway. The people he had lived with on the streets didn't seem to recognize him, and at this moment, he felt no urge to associate with them either.
The day of their departure came, and Haddock walked through the Montgomery BART station for the last time. He had many memories of San Francisco, most of them bad at this point, but still he couldn't help feeling sad to be leaving. They checked in early for their Lufthansa A380 flight to Frankfurt, from where they would connect to Salzburg on a regional jet. They boarded the economy section, and had a window and a middle seat on the starboard side of the aircraft. As they departed, they enjoyed a spectacular view of the glistening city below. Haddock still felt sad, but he suddenly felt a sense of elation, to be on his way to some sort of improvement in his life. A while later, he clenched his fists and turned his face away in anguish, as surprisingly cheerful flight attendants came round cracking open bottles of Warsteiner for thirsty passengers. He was determined to become the teetotaler that Nestor urged him to be.
Salzburg was gray and cold, even though it was only mid October. To the Captain it felt as if it were about to snow. It had been 28 degrees Celsius when they departed SFO, now in the mid afternoon gloom, it was barely 8 degrees. They made their way by bus to a quiet nondescript residential area, outside the old town of Salzburg. The Captain hadn't left the Bay Area in twenty years, and the Austrian buildings looked like silly dollhouses to him, but they also gave him a feeling of safety and orderliness. Nestor's flat was small, clean and sparsely decorated. There was a tiny bathroom with a shower and no tub, and a small closet sized guestroom for the Captain. Other than that, it contained a very small kitchenette, a small living and dining area, and Nestor's room. There was also a small balcony looking out onto the drab street. The Captain told Nestor he felt he was imposing by staying there, but Nestor assured him not to worry. They would spend a few days in Salzburg getting over their jet lag, then they would visit a small village in the Alps for a few days. Afterwards they would stay in Salzburg a while longer, before Nestor would accompany Haddock to Belgium, and help him get his life back on track there. He told the Captain above all else to relax, and promised him everything would be fine.
The next day, they strolled through downtown Salzburg. Hordes of tourists played follow the leader, chasing uniformed tour guides hoisting brightly colored umbrellas into the gray sky. Like San Francisco, Salzburg had a lot of tourists. Unlike San Francisco, Salzburg was quite a bit smaller and lacked a certain tough edgy feeling. San Francisco had lots of trendy glamour and glitz, but being a large American city, there was always a slight threat in the air, a sense of hunger and urgency, like being trailed by a pack of wolves in a dense forest. The people of Salzburg seemed well fed, bored and content. They ambled about in thick coats, pausing to stare stoically into brightly lit shop windows.
Meanwhile, in Fairfax County, Virginia, Tintin was living the good life. He lived in a large house, and owned a fleet of Hummers, all in different colors, but otherwise identical. He had also amassed a substantial collection of guns, and enjoyed his afternoons spent at the firing range. He worked out regularly, had become fanatic about building muscle mass, and loved to stop at the local GNC at the mall to try out various supplements on offer there. His arms were now covered with tattoos, and he looked quite different from the innocent looking, polo shirt and sweater wearing boy reporter of the past. He had made many contacts at the think tank where he still worked, and had started several successful real estate operations, flipping houses. He was also a partner in a successful venture capital firm. He kept very busy. Weekends were often spent on hunting trips with clients, where he would take Snowy along. He sometimes thought of the Captain, how he had been able to manipulate the old drunkard at times, and how he had been a good companion in that respect, but how he was ultimately too difficult to be around with his alcohol addiction and violent mood swings. Tintin felt glad to be on his own.
Calculus was dead. Although the Professor had done good work at the think tank, he had become increasingly withdrawn, as he never got over the failure of the California computer venture. He had been found one day in his house, after having apparently committed suicide, with a copy of George Prochnik's The Impossible Exile by his bedside. He had set up a laboratory in his basement, and obtained the necessary ingredients to produce the same type of barbiturate Stefan Zweig had used to kill himself. He had left a note simply stating:
I have always longed for you my love, I believe that now I have finally found you.
Captain Haddock eventually made his way to Ostend. The Belgian government employment agency found him a job auditing shipping firms, to ensure their compliance with European Union standards. The work oftentimes seemed senseless, but he had a nice group of co-workers and six weeks of paid vacation each year. He was able to afford a comfortable one bedroom apartment in the center of town, and would spend his vacations with Nestor traveling. They had recently spent three weeks in Hokkaido together, hiking and visiting onsen. Nestor would always stop in Ostend and visit the Captain, when traveling between Salzburg and England to visit family and friends.
The Captain still occasionally grappled with the lure of drink. He would sometimes get drunk, but then feel horribly rotten afterwards. For the most part though, he managed to avoid alcohol. He regularly saw a therapist, and was given medication to help him sleep and relax.
After he had settled in to his new job and apartment, bills from debt collectors in the United States began to pour in. According to the statements, he still owed around eighty thousand dollars in unpaid debt from the time of his failed business venture with Tintin and Calculus. Nestor had phoned Tintin, urging him to settle Haddock's debts in the U.S., as he felt the Captain had been manipulated and treated poorly by Calculus and him. Tintin told Nestor to fuck off and hung up on him. Nestor then contacted a close friend, who was a butler for a wealthy family of lawyers in Westchester County, New York. As a favor, a lawyer there sent a letter to Tintin, threatening legal action. Tintin called his own lawyer from his iPhone to seek advice. The lawyer told him Haddock probably didn't have much of a case, but things could still get messy, with long drawn out proceedings that would eventually dig up a lot of dirt from the past. Tintin cursed and flung his phone against the wall in a fit of rage, but ultimately contacted his accountant telling her to settle Haddock's debts.
Haddock often felt sad, thinking of his old friends, Tintin and Calculus, but he had found new friends, and still had other old friends who remained true to him. Nestor told him not to worry about Tintin. He had found his own version of happiness, and all they could do was to wish him well. It wasn't always easy to really know a person, and sometimes people changed.
THE END