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Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt

Page 7

by The Aquitaine Progression [lit]


  whipped his harem's women in a courtyard when they

  failed to arouse him.

  Kostas Laskaris was not at all whatJoel had

  expected from the brief, disconcerting conversation

  over the phone. He was a balding, pleasant-faced man

  in his late fifties, with warm

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 41

  dark eyes, and relatively fluent in English but

  certainly not comfortable with the language. His first

  words upon rising from his desk and indicating a

  chair in front of it for Converse contradicted Joel's

  previous impression.

  "I apologizefor what might have appeared as a

  callous statement on my part regarding Mr. Halliday.

  However, it ureas most unfortunate, and I don't

  know how else to phrase it. And it is difficult, sir, to

  grieve for a man one never knew."

  "I was out of line. Forget it, please."

  "You are most kind, but I am afraid I cannot

  forget the arrangements mandated by Mr. Halliday

  and his associate here on Mykonos. I must have your

  passport and the letter, if you please?"

  "Who is he?" asked Joel, reaching into his jacket

  pocket for his passport billfold; it contained the

  letter. "The associate, I mean."

  "You are an attorney, sir, and surely you are

  aware that the information you desire cannot be

  given to you until the barriers have been leaped, as

  it were. At least, I think that's right."

  "It'll do. I just thought I'd try." He took out his

  passport and the letter, handing them to the banker.

  Laskaris picked up his telephone and pressed a

  button. He spoke in Greek and apparently asked for

  someone. Within seconds the door opened and a

  stunning bronzed, dark-haired woman entered and

  walked gracefully over to the desk. She raised her

  downcast eyes and glanced at Joel, who knew the

  banker was watching him closely. A sign from

  Converse, an other glance from him directed at

  Laskaris and introduc tions would be forthcoming,

  accommodation tacitly promised, and a conceivably

  significant piece of information would be entered in

  a banker's file. Joel offered no such sign; he wanted

  no such entry. A man did not pick up half a million

  dollars for nodding his head, and then look for a

  bonus. It did not signify stability; it signified

  something else.

  Inconsequential banter about flights, customs and

  the general deterioration of travel covered the next

  ten minutes, at which time his passport and the letter

  were returned not by the striking, dark-haired

  woman but by a young, balletic blond Adonis. The

  pleasant-faced Laskaris was not missing a trick; he

  was perfectly willing to supply one, whichever route

  his wealthy visitor required.

  Converse looked into the Greek's warm eyes, then

  42 ROBERT LUDLUM

  smiled, the smile developing into quiet laughter.

  Laskaris smiled back and shrugged, dismissing the

  beachboy.

  'I am chief manager of this branch, sir," he said

  as the door closed, "but I do not set the policies for

  the entire bank. This is, after all, Mykonos."

  "And a great deal of money passes through

  here," added Joel. "Which one did you bet on?"

  "Neither," replied Laskaris, shaking his head.

  "Only on exactly what you did. You'd be a fool

  otherwise, and I do not think you are a fool. In

  addition to being chief manager on the waterfront,

  I am also an excellent judge of character."

  "Is that why you were chosen as the intermediary?"

  "No, that is not the reason. I am a friend of Mr.

  Halliday's associate here on the island. His name is

  Beale, incidentally. Dr. Edward Beale.... You see,

  everything is in order."

  "A doctor?" asked Converse, leaning forward

  and accepting his passport and the letter. "He's a

  doctor?"

  "Not a medical man, however," clarified

  Laskaris. "He's a scholar, a retired professor of

  history from the United States. He has an adequate

  pension and he moved here from Rhodes several

  months ago. A most interesting man, most

  knowledgeable. I handle his financial affairs in

  which he is not very knowledgeable, but still

  interesting."" The banker smiled again, shrugging.

  "I hope so," said Joel. "We have a great deal to

  discuss..'

  "That is not my concern, sir. Shall we get to the

  disposition of the funds? How and where would you

  care to have them paid?"

  "A great deal in cash. I bought one of those

  sensorized money belts in Geneva the batteries are

  guaranteed for a year. If it's ripped off me, a tiny

  siren goes off that splits your eardrums. I'd like

  American currency for myself and the rest

  transferred."

  "Those belts are effective, sir, but not if you are

  unconscious, or if there is no one around to hear

  them. Might I suggest traveler's checks?"

  "You could and you'd probably be right, but I

  don't think so. I may not care to write out a

  signature."

  "As you wish. The denominations for yourself,

  please?" said Laskaris, pencil in hand, pad below.

  "And where would you like the remainder to be

  sent?"

  "Is it possible," asked Converse slowly, "to have

  accounts set up not in my name but accessible to

  me?"

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 43

  '&Of course, sir. Frankly, it is often standard in

  Mykonos as well as in Crete, Rhodes, Athens,

  Istanbul, and also much of Europe. A description is

  wired, accompanied by words written out in your

  handwriting another name, or numbers. One man

  I knew used nursery rhymes. And then they are

  matched. One must use a sophisticated bank, of

  course."

  'Of course. Name a few."

  "Where?"

  "In London, Paris, Bonn maybe Tel Aviv," said

  Joel, trying to remember Halliday's words.

  "Bonn is not easy; they are so inflexible. A wrong

  apostrophe and they summon whomever they

  consider their authorities.... Tel Aviv is simple;

  money is as freewheeling and as serpentine as the

  Knesset. London and Paris are standard and, of

  course, their greed is overwhelming. You will be

  heavily taxed for the transfers because they know you

  will not make an issue over covert funds. Very

  proper, very mercenary, and very much thievery."

  "You know your banks, don't you?"

  "I've had experience, sir. Now, as to the

  disbursements?

  "I want a hundred thousand for myself nothing

  larger than five-hundred-dollar bills. The rest you

  can split up and tell me how I can get it if I need it."

  "It is not a difficult assignment, sir. Shall we start

  writing names, or numbers or nursery rhymes?"

  "Numbers," said Converse. "I'm a lawyer. Names

  and nursery rhymes are in dimensions I don't want to

  think about right now."

  "A
s you wish," said the Greek, reaching for a pad.

  'And here is Dr. Beale's telephone number. When

  we have concluded our business, you may call

  him or not, as you wish It is not my concern."

  Dr. Edward Beale, resident of Mykonos, spoke

  over the telephone in measured words and the slow,

  thoughtful cadence of a scholar. Nothing was rushed;

  everything was deliberate.

  "There is a beach more rocks than beach, and

  not frequented at night about seven kilometers

  from the waterfront. Walk to it. Take the west road

  along the coast until you see the lights of several

  buoys riding the waves. Come down to the water's

  edge. I'll find you."

  * * *

  44 ROBERT LUDLUM

  The night clouds sped by, propelled by

  high-altitude winds, letting the moonlight penetrate

  rapidly, sporadically, illuminating the desolate

  stretch of beach that was the meeting ground. Far

  out on the water, the red lamps of four buoys

  bobbed up and down. Joel climbed over the rocks

  and into the soft sand, making his way to the water's

  edge; he could both see and hear the small waves

  lapping forward and receding. He lit a cigarette,

  assuming the flame would announce his presence. It

  did; in moments a voice came out of the darkness

  behind him, but the greeting was hardly what he ex-

  pected from an elderly, retired scholar.

  "Stay where you are and don't move" was the

  first command, spoken with quiet authority. "Put the

  cigarette in your mouth and inhale, then raise your

  arms and hold them straight out in front of you....

  Good. Now smoke, I want to see the smoke."

  "Christ, I'm choking!" shouted Joel, coughing, as

  the smoke, blown back by the ocean breeze, stung

  his eyes. Then suddenly he felt the sharp, quick

  movements of a hand stabbing about his clothes,

  reaching across his chest and up and down his legs.

  "What are you doing?" he cried, spitting the cigarette

  out of his mouth involuntarily.

  "You don't have a weapon," said the voice.

  "Of course not!"

  "I do. You may lower your arms and turn around

  now."

  Converse spun, still coughing, and rubbed his

  watery eyes. "You crazy son of a bitch!"

  "It's a dreadful habit, those cigarettes. I'd give

  them up if I were you. Outside of the terrible things

  they do to your body, now you see how they can be

  used against you in other ways."

  Joel blinked and stared in front of him. The

  pontificator was a slender, white-haired old man of

  medium height, standing very erect in what looked

  like a white canvas jacket and trousers. His

  face what could be seen of it in the intermittent

  moonlight was deeply lined, and there was a

  partial smile on his lips. There was also a gun in his

  hand, held in a firm grip, levered at Converse's

  head. "You're Beale?" asked Joel. "Dr. Edward

  Beale?"

  "Yes. Are you calmed down now?"

  "Considering the shock of your warm welcome, I

  guess

  "Good. I'll put this away, then." The scholar lowered

  the

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 45

  gun and knelt down on the sand next to a canvas

  satchel. He shoved the weapon inside and stood up

  again. "I'm sorry, but I had to be certain."

  "Of what? Whether or not I was a commando?"

  "Halliday's dead. Could a substitute have been

  sent in your place? Someone to deal with an old man

  in Mykonos? If so, that person would most certainly

  have had a gun."

  "Why?"

  "Because he would have had no idea that I was

  an old man. I might have been a commando."

  "You know, it's possible just possible that I

  could have had a gun. Would you have blown my

  goddamned head off?"

  'A respected attorney coming to the island for

  the first time, passing through Geneva's airport

  security? Where would you get it? Whom would you

  know on Mykonos?"

  'Arrangements could have been made," protested

  Converse with little conviction.

  "I've had you followed since you arrived. You

  went directly to the bank, then to the Kouneni hotel,

  where you sat in the garden and had a drink before

  going to your room. Outside of the taxi driver, my

  friend Kostas, the desk clerk, and the waiters in the

  garden, you spoke to no one. As long as you were

  Joel Converse I was safe."

  "For a product of an ivory tower, you sound more

  like a hit man from Detroit."

  "I wasn't always in the academic world, but yes,

  I've been cautious. I think we must all be very

  cautious. With a George Marcus Delavane it's the

  only sound strategy."

  "Sound strategy?"

  "Approach, if you like." Beale reached between

  the widely separated buttons of his jacket and

  withdrew a folded sheet of paper. "Here are the

  names," he said, handing it to Joel. "There are five

  key figures in Delavane's operation over here. One

  each from France, West Germany, Israel, South Af-

  rica, and England. We've identified four the first

  four but we can't find the Englishman."

  "How did you get these?"

  "Originally from notes found among Delavane's

  papers by Halliday when the general was his client."

  "That was the accident he mentioned, then? He

  said it was an accident that wouldn't happen again."

  "I don't know what he told you, of course, but it

  certainly was an accident. A faulty memory on

  Delavane's part, an af

  46 RORERT LUDIUM

  flictionI can personally assure you touches the aging.

  The general simply forgot he had a meeting with

  Halliday, and when Preston arrived, his secretary let

  him into the office so he could prepare papers for

  Delavane, who was expected in a half hour or so.

  Preston saw a file folder on the general's desk; he

  knew that folder, knew it contained material he

  could cross-check. Without thinking twice, he sat

  down and began working. He found the names, and

  knowing Delavane's recent itinerary in Europe and

  Africa, everything suddenly began to fall into

  place very ominously. For anyone politically aware,

  those four names are frightening they dredge up

  frightening memories."

  "Did Delavane ever learn that he'd found them?"

  "In my judgment, he could never be certain.

  Halliday wrote them down and left before the

  general returned. But then Geneva tells us

  something else, doesn't it?"

  "That Delavane did find out," said Converse grimly.

  "Or he wasn't going to take any further chances,

  especially if there was a schedule, and we're

  convinced there is one. We're in the countdown

  now."

  "To what?"

  "From the pattern of their operations what we've

  pieced together a prolonged series of massive,

  orchestrated conflagrations designe
d to spin

  governments out of control and destabilize them."

  "That's a tall order. In what way?"

  "Guesswork," said the scholar, frowning.

  "Probably widespread, coordinated eruptions of

  violence led by terrorists everywhere terrorists

  fueled by Delavane and his people. When the chaos

  becomes intolerable, it would be their excuse to

  march in with military units and assume the

  controls, initially with martial law."

  "It's been done before," said Joel. "Feed and arm

  a presumed enemy, then send out provocateurs "

  "With massive sums of money and material."

  "And when they rise up," continued Converse,

  "pull out the rug, crush them, and take over. The

  citizens give thanks and call the heroes saviors, as

  they start marching to their drums. But how could

  they do it?"

  "That's the all-consuming question. What are the

  targets? Where are they, who are they? We have no

  idea. If we had an inkling, we might approach from

  that end, but we don't,

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 47

  and we can't waste time hunting for unknowns. We

  must go after what we do know."

  "Again, time," Joel broke in. "Why are you so

  sure we're in a countdown?"

  "Increased activity everywhere in many cases

  frantic. Shipments originating in the States are

  funneled out of warehouses in England, Ireland,

 

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