Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt

by The Aquitaine Progression [lit]

  it," said the actor. We can use lines like that in

  movies and get away with it because we write in all

  those reactions, but you're not Helmut Dantine or

  Martin Kosleck and I'm not Elissa Landi. Spell it

  out."

  every well, I shall spell it out. Interpol. A man

  died in a Paris hospital as a result of head injuries

  inflicted by the American, Joel Converse. His

  condition was diagnosed as improving, but

  unfortunately it was only temporary; he was found

  dead this morning. The death is attributed to an

  unpro

  THE PROGRESSION 183

  yoked attack by Herr Converse. We know he flew

  into Koln-Bonn, and according to the airline

  stewardesses, you sat with him for three and a half

  hours. We want to know where he is. Perhaps you

  can help us."

  Dowling removed his glasses, lowering his chin

  and swallowing as he did so. And you think I know?"

  We have no idea, but you talked with him. And

  we hope you do know that there are severe penalties

  for withholding information about a fugitive,

  especially one sought for a killing."

  The actor fingered the stems of his glasses, his

  instincts in conflict, erupting. He walked over to the

  cot against the wall and sat down, looking up at the

  police officer.. "Why don't I trust you?" he asked.

  `Because you think of your wife and will trust no

  German," replied the German. 1 am a man of law

  and peace Herr Dowling. Order is something the

  people decide for themselves, myself among them.

  The report we have received states clearly that this

  Converse may be a very disturbed man."

  "He didn't sound disturbed to me. In fact, I

  thought he had a damned good head on his

  shoulders. He said a lot of very perceptive things."

  "That you wanted to hear?"

  "Not all of them."

  "But a good percentage, leading up to all of them."

  "What does that mean?"

  "A madman is convincing; he plays on all sides,

  eventually weighing everything in his favor. It's the

  essence of his madness, his psychosis, his own

  convictions."

  Dowling dropped the glasses on the cot, exhaling

  audibly feeling the pain of fear again in his stomach.

  PA madman?" he said without conviction. "I don't

  believe that."

  "Then let us have a chance to disprove it. Do you

  know where he is?"

  The actor squinted at the German. "Give me a

  card or a number where I can reach you. He may get

  in touch with me."

  "Who was responsible?" The man in the red silk

  robe behind the large desk sat in semidarkness, a

  brass lamp serving to throw a harsh circle of light on

  the surface in front of him. The glow was sufficient

  to reveal the outlines of a huge map

  184 ROBERT LUDLUM

  cantered on the wall behind the man and the desk.

  It was a strange map, not of the global world but of

  fragments of the world. The shapes of nations were

  clearly defined yet oddly shadowed, eerily colored,

  as if an attempt had been made to create a single

  landmass out of disparate geographical areas. They

  included all of Europe, most of the Mediterranean

  and selected portions of Africa. And as if the wide

  expanse of the Atlantic Ocean were merely a pale

  blue connector, Canada and the United States of

  America were part of this arcane entity.

  The man stared straight ahead. His lined,

  squarejawed face, with its aquiline nose and thin,

  stretched lips, seemed molded from parchment; his

  close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair was singularly

  appropriate for a man with such a rigidly framed

  torso. He spoke again; his voice was rather high,

  with no resonance but with a secure sense of

  command. One could easily imagine this voice

  raised in volume even to fever pitch like a

  tomcat screeching across a frozen lake. It was not

  raised now, however; it was the essence of quiet

  urgency. ' Who was responsible?" he repeated. "Are

  you still on the line, London?"

  "Yes," replied the caller from Great Britain.

  "Yes, of course. I'm trying to think, trying to be

  fair."

  "I admire that, but decisions have to be made. In

  all likelihood the responsibility will be shared, we

  simply have to know the sequence." The man

  paused; when he continued, his voice suddenly took

  on an intensity that was a complete departure from

  his previous tone. It was the shrill call of the cat

  across the ice-bound lake. "How was Interpol

  involved?"

  Startled, the Englishman answered quickly, his

  phrases clipped, the words rushing headlong over

  one another. "Bertholdier's aide was found dead at

  four in the morning Paris fame. Apparently he was

  to receive hospital medication at that hour. The

  nurse called the Surete "

  "The Surete?" shouted the man behind the desk

  in front of the fragmented map. "Why the Surete'?

  Why not Bertholdier? It was his employee, not the

  Surete's!"

  "That was the lapse," said the Britisher. "No one

  realised instructions to that effect had been left at

  the hospital desk apparently by an inspector

  named Prudhomme, who was awakened and told of

  the man's death."

  "And he was the one who called in Interpol?"

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 185

  '~Yes, but too late to intercept Converse at

  German immigration. "

  ' For which we can be profoundly grateful," said

  the man, lowering his voice.

  'Normally, of course, the hospital would have

  waited and reached Bertholdier in the morning,

  telling him what happened. As you say, the patient

  was an employee, not a member of the family. After

  that, undoubtedly the arrondissement police would

  have been informed and finally the Surete. By then

  our people would have been in place and fully

  capable of preventing Interpol's involvement. We can

  still stop them but it will take several days. Personnel

  transfers, new evidence, amendments to the case file;

  we need time."

  Then don't waste any."

  ' It was those damned instructions."

  "Which no one had the brains to look for," said

  the man in front of the shadowed map. "This

  Prudhomme's instincts were aroused. Too many rich

  people, too much influence, the circumstances too

  bizarre. He smells something."

  "We'll get him off the case, just a few days," said

  the Englishman. "Converse is in Bonn, we know that.

  We're closing in 't

  "So possibly are Interpol and the German police.

  I don't have to tell you how tragic that would be."

  "We have certain controls through the American

  embalm sy. The fugitive is American."

  "Thefugitive has information!" insisted the man

  behind the desk, his fist clenched in the circle of

  light. "How much and supplie
d by whom we don't

  know and we must know."

  "Nothing was learned in New York? The judge?"

  "Only what Bertholdier suspected and what I

  knew the moment I heard his name. After forty years

  Anstett came back, still hounding me, still wanting

  my neck. The man was a bull, but only a go-between;

  he hated me as much as I hated him, and up to the

  end he shielded those behind him. Well he's gone

  and his holy righteousness with him. The point is

  Converse is not what he pretends to be. Now, f nd

  him!"

  "As I say, we're closing in. We have more

  sources, more informers than Interpol. He s an

  American fugitive in Bonn who, we understand,

  doesn't speak the language. There are only so many

  places he can hide. We'll find him; we ll break him

  and learn where he comes from. After which, we'll

  terminate immediately, of course."

  186 ROBERT IUDLUM

  "No!" The sleek male cat again shrieked across

  the frozen lake. "We play his game! We welcome

  him, embrace him. In Paris he talked about Bonn,

  Tel Aviv, Johannesburg; therefore you'll

  accommodate him. Bring him to LeifLelm even

  better, have Leifhelm go to him. Fly in Abrahms

  from Israel, Van Headmer from Africa, and, yes,

  Bertholdier from Paris. He obviously knows who

  they are anyway. He claims ultimately to want a

  council meeting, to be a part of us. So we'll hold a

  conference and listen to his lies. He'll tell us more

  with his lies than he can with the truth."

  'I really don't understand."

  "Converse is a point, but only a point. He's

  exploring, studying the forward terrain, trying to

  understand the tactical forces ahead of him. If he

  were anything else, he'd deal directly through

  legitimate authorities and legitimate methods.

  There'd be no reason for him to use a false name or

  give false information or to run away, forcibly

  overcoming a man he thinks is trying to stop him.

  He's an infantry point who has certain information

  but doesn't know where he's going. Well, a point

  can be sucked into a trap, the advancing company

  ambushed. Oh, yes, we must give him his

  conference!"

  "I submit that's extraordinarily dangerous. He

  has to know who recruited him, who gave him the

  names, his sources. We can break him physically or

  chemically and get that information."

  "He probably doesn't have it," explained the man

  patiently. "Infantry points are not privileged to know

  command decisions; frankly, if they were, they might

  turn back. We have to know more about this

  Converse, and by six o'clock tonight I'll have every

  report, every resume, every word ever written about

  him. There's something here we can't see."

  "We already know he's resourceful," said the

  Britisher. "From what we can piece together in

  Paris, he's considered an outstanding attorney. If he

  sees through us or gets away from us, it could be

  catastrophic. He will have met with our people,

  spoken with them."

  "Then once you find him don't let him out of

  your sight. By tomorrow I'll have other

  instruetions~r you."

  "Oh?"

  "Those records that are being gathered from all

  over the country. For a man to do what Converse is

  doing, he had to be manipulated very carefully, very

  thoroughly, a driving intensity instilled in him. It's

  the manipulators we have to find.

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 187

  They're not even who we think they are. I'll be in

  touch tomorrow."

  George Marcus Delavane replaced the telephone

  in its cradle and slowly, awkwardly twisted his upper

  body around in the chair. He gazed at the strange,

  fragmented map as the first light of dawn fired the

  eastern sky, its orange glow filling the windows.

  Then, with effort, his hands gripping the arms of the

  steel chair, he pivoted himself around again, his eyes

  on the stark pool of light on the desk. He moved his

  hands to his waist and carefully, trembling,

  unbuttoned his dark-red velvet jacket, forcing his

  gaze downward, ordering himself to observe the

  terrible truth once more. He stared past the

  five-inch-wide leather strap that diagonally held him

  in place, now commanding his eyes to focus, to

  accept with loathing what had been done to him.

  There was nothing to see but the edge of the

  thick steel seat and, below it, the polished wood of

  the floor. The long, sturdy legs that had carried his

  trained, muscular body through battles in the snow

  and the mud, through triumphant parades in the

  sunlight, through ceremonies of honor and defiance,

  had been stolen from him. The doctors had told him

  that his diseased legs were instruments of death that

  would kill the rest of him. He clenched his fists and

  pressed them slowly down on the desk, his throat

  filled with a silent scream.

  9

  "Goddamn you, Converse, who do you think you

  areP" cried Connal Fitzpatrick, his voice low, furious,

  as he caught up with Joel, who was walking rapidly

  between the tall trees near the Alter Zoll.

  "Someone who knew Avery Fowler as a boy and

  watched a man named Press Halliday die a couple of

  hundred years later in Geneva,' replied Converse,

  quickening his pace heading toward the gates of the

  national landmark where there were taxis.

  "Don't puff that crap on mel I knew Press far better

  and

  188 ROBERT LUDIUM

  far longer than you ever did. For Christ's sake, he

  was married to my sister! We were close friends for

  fifteen years!"

  "You sound like a kid playing one-upmanship. Get

  lost."

  Fitzpatrick rushed forward, pivoting in front of

  Joel blocking him. "It's true! Please, I can help, I

  want to help! I know the language: you don't! I have

  connections here; you don't."

  "You also have your own idea about a deadline,

  which I don't. Get out of my way, sailor. '

  "Come on," pleaded the naval officer. I didn't get

  everything I wanted. Don't crowd me out."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  Fitzpatrick shifted his weight awkwardly. "You've

  come on strong before yourself, haven't you,

  counselor?"

  "Not if I didn't know the circumstances."

  "Sometimes it's a way of finding them out."

  "Not with me, it isn't."

  "Then my error was in not knowing you; the

  circumstances were beyond that scope. With

  someone else it might have worked."

  "Now you're talking tactics, but you meant it when you

  said 'two days.'"

  "You're damned right I did," agreed Connal,

  nodding. "Because I want whatever it is exposed, I

  want whoever it is to pay! I'm mad, Converse, I'm

  mad as hell. I don't want this thing to linger and die

  away. The longer nothing is d
one the less people

  care; you know that as well as I do and probably

  better. Have you ever tried to reopen an old case? I

  have with a few courts-martial where I thought things

  had been screwed up. Well, I learned something: the

  system doesn't like it! You know why?"

  "Yes I do," said Joel. "There are too many new

  cases in the dockets, too many rewards in going after

  the current ones."

  "Bingo, counselor. Press deserves better than that.

  Meagen deserves better."

  "Yes, he does they do. But there's a

  complication that Press Halliday understood better

  than either of us. Put simply and cruelly his life

  wasn't terribly important compared with what he was

  going after."

  "That's pretty damned cruel," said the officer..

  "It's very damned accurate," said Converse. "Your

  brother-in-law would have wrestled you to the mat,

  burns and all,

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 189

  for walking into this and trying to call the shots.

  Back off Commander. Go back to the funeral."

  "No. I want to come on board. I withdraw the

  deadline."

  '4How considerate of you."

  "You call the shots," said Fitzpatrick, nodding

  again, exhaling in defeat. "I'll do what you tell me to

  do."

  "Why?" asked Joel, their eyes locked.

  The Navy lawyer did not flinch; he spoke simply.

  "Because Press trusted you. He said you were the

  best."