Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt

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by The Aquitaine Progression [lit]

"This fellow gave me a card and wants me to call

  him if you got in touch with me. He was very specific

  about withholding information, how it's considered

  aiding a fugitive."

  "He was right, absolutely rightl For God's sake,

  tell him everything, Call The truth. You got me a

  room for the night because you thought I might not

  have a reservation and we had a pleasant few hours

  on the plane. You put it in your name because you

  didn't want me to pay. Don't hide anything! Not even

  this call."

  "Why didn't I tell him before?"

  196 ROBERT LUDLUM

  "That's all right, you're telling him now. It was

  a shock and I'm a fellow American and you're in a

  foreign country. You wanted time to think, to

  reflect. My phone call shook you into behaving

  rationally. Tell him you confronted me with the

  accusation and I didn't deny it. Be honest with him,

  Cal."

  "How honest? Should I include my session with

  Fowler?"

  "That's all right, too, but it's not necessary. Let

  me back up and clarify. Fowler's a false name and

  he's not relevant to Paris, I give you my word.

  Bringing him in is only volunteering an unnecessary

  complication."

  "Should I tell him you're at the Alter Zoll?"

  "It's where I'm calling you from. I just admitted it."

  "You won't be able to go back to the Konigshof."

  "It doesn't matter," said Joel, speaking rapidly,

  wanting to get off the phone and start thinking. "My

  luggage is at the airport and I can't go back there

  either."

  "You had a briefcase."

  "I've taken care of that. It's where I can get it."

  The actor paused, then spoke slowly. "So your

  advice to me is to level with the police, to tell them

  the truth."

  "Without volunteering extraneous and unrelated

  material. Yes, that's my advice, Cal. It's the way you

  can stay clean and you are clean."

  "It sounds like fine advice, Joe Joel, and I

  certainly wish I could take it, but I'm afraid I can't."

  "What? Why?"

  "Because bad men like thieves and killers don't

  give advice like that. It's not in any script I ever

  read."

  "That's nonsense! For Christ's sake, do as I tell

  you!"

  "Sorry, pardner, it's not good dramaturgy. So

  you do as I tell you. There's a big stone building at

  the university beautiful place, a restored palace

  actually with a layout of gardens you don't see

  very often. They're on the south side with benches

  here and there on the main path. It's a nice place

  on a summer's night, kind of out of the way and not

  too crowded. Be there at ten o'clock."

  "Cal, I won't involve you in thist"

  "I'm already involved. I've withheld information

  and I've aided a fugitive." Dowling paused again.

  "There's someone I want you to meet," he said.

  "No. "

  There was a click and the line went dead.

  10

  Converse hung up the phone and braced himself

  on the sides of the plastic booth, trying to clear his

  head. He had killed a man, not in a war anyone knew

  about, and not in the heat of survival in a Southeast

  Asian jungle, but in a Paris alleyway because he had

  to make an instant decision based on probabilities.

  Rightly or wrongly the act had been done and he

  could not dwell on it. The German police were

  looking for him, which meant that Interpol had

  entered the picture, transmitting the information from

  Paris somehow supplied by Jacques-Louis Bertholdier,

  who remained out of sight, beyond the scope of the

  hunt. Joel recalled his own words spoken only

  minutes ago. If Press Halliday's life was not terribly

  important compared with what he was going after,

  neither was the life of a minion who worked for

  Bertholdier, Delavane's disciple, Aquitaine's arm in

  France. There were no options, thought Converse. He

  had to go on; he had to stay free.

  "What's the matter?" asked Fitzpatrick, standing

  anxiously near him. "You look like you got kicked by

  a mule."

  "I got kicked," agreed Converse.

  "What happened to Dowling? Is he in trouble?"

  "He mall be!" exploded Joel. "Because he's a

  misguided idiot who thinks he's in some kind of

  goddamned moviel"

  "That wasn't your opinion a little while ago."

  "We met; it came out all right. This can't, not for

  him." Converse pushed himself away from the booth

  and looked at the Navy lawyer, his mind now trying

  desperately to concentrate on the immediate. "I may

  tell you and I may not," he said, glancing around for

  an available taxi. "Come on, we're going to put your

  awesome linguistic abilities to work. We need shelter,

  expensive but not showy, especially not a place where

  the well-heeled tourists go who don't speak German.

  If there's one thing they'll spread about me, it's that

  I can't talk my way through the five boroughs of New

  York. I want

  197

  ~g8 ROBERT LUDLUM

  a rich hotel that doesn't need foreigners, doesn't

  cater to them. Do you know the kind of place I

  mean?"

  Fitzpatrick nodded. "Exclusive, clubby,German

  business-oriented. Every large city has hotels like

  that, and they're always twenty times my per diem

  for breakfast."

  "That's okay, I ve got money here in Bonn. I

  might as well try to get it out."

  "You're full of surprises," said Cormal. "I mean

  real surprises."

  "Do you think you can handle it? Find a hotel like

  that?"

  "I can explain what I want to a cabdriver; he'll

  probably know. Bonn's small, nothing like New

  York or London or Paris.... There's a taxi letting

  people out." The two men hurried to the curb,

  where the cab was discharging a quartet of

  passengers balancing camera equipment and

  outsized Louis Vuitton handbags.

  "How will you do it?" asked Converse as they

  nodded to the tourists, two couples in the midst of

  an argument, male versus female, Nikon versus

  Vuitton.

  "A combination of what we both said," answered

  Fitzpatrick. "A quiet, nice hotel away from the

  Ausl~nderl~r~n. "

  "What?"

  "The clamor of tourists and worse. I'll tell him

  we're calling on some very important German

  businessmen bankers, say and we'd like a place

  they'd be most comfortable in for confidential

  meetings. He'll get the drift."

  "He'll see we don't have any luggage," objected Joel.

  "He'll see the money in my hand first," said the

  naval olficer, holding the door for Converse.

  Lieutenant Commander Connal Fitzpatrick,

  USN, member of the military bar and limited

  thereby, impressed Joel Converse, vaunted

  international attorney, to the point where the latter

  felt foolish. Effortlessly the Na
vy lawyer got them in

  a two-bedroom suite at an inn on the banks of the

  Rhine called Das Rektorat. It was one of those

  converted prewar estates where most of the guests

  seemed to have at least a nodding acquaintance with

  several others and the clerks rarely looked anyone

  in the eye, as if tacitly confirming their subser-

  vience or the fact that they would certainly not

  acknowledge having seen Herr So-and-So should

  someone ask them.

  Fitzpatrick had begun his campaign with the taxi

  driver by leaning forward in the seat and speaking

  rapidly and quiet

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 199

  ly.Their exchanges seemed to grow more confidential

  as the cab sped toward the heart of the city; then it

  abruptly veered away, crossing the railroad tracks

  that intersected the capital, and entered a smooth

  road paralleling the river north. Joel had started to

  speak, to ask what was happening, but the Navy

  lawyer had held up his hand, telling Converse to be

  quiet.

  Once they had stopped at the entrance of an inn,

  reached by an interminably long, manicured drive,

  Fitzpatrick got out.

  "Stay here," he said toJoel. "I'll see if I can get us

  a couple of rooms. And don't say anything."

  Twelve minutes later Connal returned, his

  demeanor stern, his eyes, however, lively. "Come on,

  Chairman of the Board, we're going straight up." He

  paid the driver handsomely and once again held the

  door for Converse now a touch more deferentially,

  thought Joel.

  The lobby of Das Rektorat was unmistakably

  German, with oddly delicate Victorian overtones;

  thick heavy wood and sturdy leather chairs were

  beside and below filigrees of brass ornamentation

  forming arches over doorways, elegant borders for

  large mirrors, and valances above thick bay windows

  where none were required. One's first impression was

  of a quiet, expensive spa from decades ago, its

  solemnity lightened by flashes of reflecting metal and

  glass. It was a strange mixture of the old and the very

  old. It smelled of money.

  Fitzpatrick led Converse to a paneled elevator

  recessed in the paneled corridor; no bellboy or

  manservant was in attendance. It was a small

  enclosure, room for no more than four people, the

  walls of tinted, marbled glass, which vibrated as the

  elevator ascended two stories.

  "I think you'll approve of the accommodations,"

  said Connal. "I checked them out; that's why it took

  me so long."

  "We're back in the nineteenth century, you know,"

  countered Joel. "I trust they have telephones and not

  just the Hessian express."

  "All the most modern communications, I made

  sure of that, too." The elevator door opened. "This

  way," said Fitzpatrick, gesturing to the right. "The

  suite's at the end of the hall."

  "The suited"

  "You said you had money in Bonn."

  Two bedrooms flanked a tastefully furnished

  sitting room, with French doors that opened onto a

  small balcony overlook

  200 ROBERT LUDLUM

  ingthe Rhine. The rooms were sunlit and airy, the

  decor of the walls again an odd mixture: a

  reproduction of an Impressionist floral arrangement

  was beside dramatic prints of past champion horses

  from the leading German tracks and breeding farms.

  "All right, wonder boy," said Converse, looking

  out the open French doors, then turning back to

  Connal Fitzpatrick, who stood in the middle of the

  room, the key skill in his hand. "How did you do it?"

  "It wasn't hard," replied the Navy lawyer, smiling.

  "You'd be surprised what a set of military papers

  will do for a person in this country. The older guys

  sort of stiffen up and look like boxer puppies

  smelling a pot roast, and there aren't that many

  people here much under sixty."

  "That doesn't tell me anything unless you're

  enlisting us."

  "It does when I combine it with the fact that I'm

  an aide assigned by the U.S. Navy to accompany an

  important American financier over here to hold

  confidential meetings with his German counterparts.

  While in Bonn, naturally, incognito is the best

  means for my eccentric financier to travel. Every-

  thing's in my name."

  "What about reservations?"

  "I told the manager that you'd rejected the hotel

  reserved for us as having too many people you

  might know. I also hinted that those countrymen of

  his you're going to meet might be most appreciative

  of his cooperation. He agreed that I might have a

  point there."

  "How did we hear about this place?" asked Joel,

  skill suspicious.

  "Simple. I remembered it from several

  conversations I had at the Internahonal Economic

  Conference in Dusseldorf last year."

  "You were there?"

  "I didn't know there was one," said Fitzpatrick,

  heading for the door on the left. "I'll take this

  bedroom, okay? It's not as large as the other one

  and that's the way it should be, since I'm an

  aide which Jesus, Mary, and Joseph all know is the

  truth."

  "Wait a minute," Converse broke in, stepping

  forward. "What about our luggage? Since we don't

  have any, didn't that strike your friend downstairs as

  a little odd for such important characters?"

  "Not at all," said Connal, turning. "It's skill in the

  city at

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 201

  that unnamed hotel you rejected so emphatically

  after twenty minutes. But only I can pick it up."

  "Why?"

  Fitzpatrick brought his index finger to his lips.

  "You also have a compulsion for secrecy. Remember,

  you're eccentric."

  "The manager bought all that swill?"

  "He calls me Kommandant."

  "You're quite a bullshitter, sailor."

  "I remind you, sir, that in the land of Erin go

  brash it's called good healthy blarney. And although

  you lack certain qualifications, Press said you were a

  master of it in negohations." Connal's expression

  became serious. "He meant it in the best way,

  counselor, and that's not bullshit."

  As the Navy lawyer began walking to the

  bedroom, Joel felt an odd sense of recognition but

  could not define it. What was it about the younger

  man that struck a chord in him? Fitzpatrick had that

  boldness that came with the untried, that lack of fear

  in small things that caution would later teach him

  often led to larger things. He tested waters bravely;

  he had never come close to drowning.

  Suddenly Converse understood the recognition.

  What he saw in Connal Fitzpatrick was

  himself before things had happened. Before he had

  learned the meaning of fear, raw fear. And finally of

  loneliness.

  It was agreed that Connal would return to the

&nb
sp; Cologne-Bonn airport, not for Joel's luggage but for

  his own, which was stored in a locker in the

  baggage-claim area. He would then go into Bonn

  proper, buy an expensive suitcase and fill it with a

  half-dozen shirts, underwear, socks and best

  off-the-rack clothing he could find in Joel's

  sizes namely, three pairs of trousers, a jacket or two

  and a raincoat. It was further agreed that casual

  clothes were the most appropriate an eccentric

  financier was permitted such lapses of sartorial taste,

  and also such attire more successfully concealed their

  non-custom-made origins. Finally, the last stop he

  would make before returning to Das Rektorat was at

  a second locker in the railroad station where

  Converse had left his attache case. Once the case

  was in the Navy lawyer's possession and the taxi

  waiting outside had picked up its passenger, there

  were to be no further stops. The cab was to drive

  directly to the countryside inn.

  "I wanted to ask you something," said Fitzpatrick just

  be

  202 ROBERT LUDLUM

  fore leaving. "Back at the Alter Zoll you said

  something about how 'they' would spread the word

  that you couldn't talk your way through the five

  boroughs of New York. I gathered that referred to

  the fact that you don't speak German."

  "That's right. Or any other language, adequate

  English excepted. I tried but it never took. I was

 

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