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Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt

Page 38

by The Aquitaine Progression [lit]


  national emergency."

  "I thought it was forty-eight hours," said Hickman.

  "No, sir. The forty-eight hours is standard with

  the release of every flag regardless of who asks for

  it except, of course the President. It's called the

  vet delay. Naval intelligence cross-checks with the

  CIA, the NSA, and G-Two to make sure there's no

  material being released that's still considered classi-

  fied. That procedure has nothing to do with the

  prerogatives of a chief legal officer."."

  "You know your law, don't you?''

  "I believe as well as any attorney in the United

  States Navy, sir."

  "I seed' The admiral leaned back in his

  upholstered swivel chair and placed his legs on the

  corner of the desk. "Commander Fitzpatrick s off

  the base, isn't he? Emergency leave, if I recall."

  "Yes, sir. He's in San Francisco with his sister

  and her children. Her husband was killed in a

  robbery in Geneva, the funeral's tomorrow morning,

  I believe."

  "Yes, I read about it. Goddamned lousy.... But

  you know where to reach him."

  "I have the telephone number, yes, sir. Do you

  want me to call him, Admiral? Apprise him of the

  Fifth Naval request."

  ^'No, no," said Hickman, shaking his head. "Not at

  a time

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 243

  like this. They can dry their mops at least until

  tomorrow afternoon. I've got to assume they also

  know the regulations if security's so damned

  jeopardised, know where the Pentagon is and the

  latest rumor out of Arlington is that they found out

  where the White House is." The Admiral stopped,

  frowned, and looked over at the lieutenant. 'Sum

  pose you didn't

  ..But I do sirn,,ow where to reach Fitzpatrick?,

  "Yes, but suppose you didn't? And a legitimate

  request was received below presidential

  involvement, but still pretty damned urgent you

  could release that flag, couldn't you?

  "Theoretically, as next in authority, yes I could.

  As long as I accepted the legal responsibility for my

  judgment."

  "The what?"

  "That I believed the request was sufficiently

  urgent to override the chief legal odficer's prior

  order, which granted him seventy-two hours for

  whatever action he deemed necessary. He was

  adamant, sir. Frankly, short of presidential inter-

  venhon, I'm legally bound to uphold the CLO's

  privilege."

  ' I'd say morally) too," agreed Hickman.

  "Morality has nothing to do with it, sir. It's a

  clear legal position. Now, shall I make that call,

  Admiral?"

  'No, the hell with it." Hickman removed his feet

  from the desk. "I was just curious and, frankly, you've

  convinced me. Fitz wouldn't have given you the order

  unless he had a reason. The Fifth D can wait three

  days, unless those boys want to run up telephone

  bills to Washington."

  "May I ask, sir, who specifically made the request?"

  The admiral looked pointedly at Remington. "I'll

  tell you in three days. You see, I've got a man's

  privilege to uphold too. You'll know then anyway,

  because in Fitz's absence you'll have to countersign

  the transfer." Hickman finished his drink and the

  lieutenant understood. The conference was over.

  Remington got up and returned the half-filled

  wineglass by thlle ciop?,p,er bar; he stood at

  attention and spoke "Will that

  "Yes, that's it," said the admiral, his gaze straying

  to the window and the ocean beyond.

  The lieutenant saluted sharply as Hickman

  brought a casual hand to his forehead. The lawyer

  then did an about-face and started for the door.

  "Remington?"

  244 ROBERT LUDLUM

  "Yes, sir?" replied the lieutenant, turning.

  "Who the hell is this Converse?"

  "I don't know, sir. But Commander Fitzpatrick

  said the status of the flag was a Four Zero

  emergency."

  'Jesus . "

  Hickman picked up his phone and touched a

  combination of buttons on the console. Moments

  later he was speaking to a fellow ranking officer in

  the Fifth Naval District.

  "I'm afraid you'll have to wait three days, Scanlon."

  "Why is that?" asked the admiral named Scanlon.

  "The CLO negative holds on the Converse flag

  as far as SAND PAC is concerned. If you want to

  go the D.C. route be my guest. We'll cooperate."

  "I told you, Brian, my people don't want to go

  through Washington. You've had these things

  happen before. D.C. makes waves, and we don't

  want waves."

  "Well then, why don't you tell me why you want

  the Converse flag? Who is he?"

  "I'd tell you if I could, you know that. Frankly,

  I'm not all that clear on it myself, and what I do

  know I've sworn to keep secure."

  "Then go to Washington, I'm standing behind my

  Chief Legal, who, incidentally, isn't even here."

  "He isn't? But you talked to him."

  "No, to his next in line, a lieutenant named

  Remington. He took the direct order from the

  CLO. Believe me, Remington won't budget. I gave

  him the chance and he covered himself with

  legalities. Around here he's known as a stickler

  prick."

  "Did he say why the negative was put out?"

  "He didn't have any idea. Why don't you call

  him yourself? He's probably still downstairs and

  maybe you can "

  "You didn't use my name, did you?" interrupted

  Scanlon apparently agitated.

  "No, you asked me not to, but he'll know it in

  three days. He'll have to sign the release and I'll

  have to tell him who requested it." Hickman paused,

  then without warning exploded. "What the hell is

  this all about, Admiral? Some pilot who was

  discharged over eighteen years ago is suddenly on

  everybody's most-wanted list. I get a departmental

  priority teletype from the big Fifth D and you follow

  it up with a personal call, playing the old Annapolis

  memory game, but you won't tell

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 245

  me anything. Then I find out my own CLO without

  my knowing about it has put a negative on this

  Converse flag and labeled it a Four Zero emergency

  status! Now, I know he's got personal problems and

  I won't bother him until tomorrow and I

  realizeyou've given your word to stay secure, but

  goddamn it, somebody had better start telling me

  something!"

  There was no response from the other end of the

  line. But there was the sound of breathing; and it

  was tremulous.

  "Scanlon!"

  ' What did you just say?" said the voice of the

  admiral thirty-six hundred miles away.

  "I'm going to find out anyway "

  "No, the status. The status of the flag." Scanlon

  could barely be heard.

  "Four-Zero emergency, that's what I said!"

&nbs
p; The interruption was abrupt) there was only an

  echoing click. Admiral Scanlon had hung up the

  phone.

  Walter Peregrine, United States ambassador to

  the Federal Republic of Germany, confronted

  Fitzpatrick. "What's your name, Commander?"

  "Fowler, sir," answered the Navy lawyer, glancing

  briefly but hard at Dowling. "Lieutenant Commander

  Avery Fowler, United States Navy." Again Connal

  looked at the actor, who stared at him through the

  moonlight.

  "I understand there's some question about that,"

  said Peregrine, his glare as hostile as Dowling's.

  "May I see your identification, please?"

  "I'm not carrying identification, sir. It's the nature

  of my assignment not to do so, sir." Fitzpatrick's

  words were rapid, precise, his posture squared and

  erect.

  "I want verification of your name, your rank, and

  your branch of service! Now!"

  "The name I've given you is the name I was

  instructed to give should anyone beyond the scope of

  the assignment inquire."

  "Whose instructions?" barked the diplomat.

  "My superior officers, sir."

  "Am I to infer that Fowler is not your correct

  name?"

  "With respect, Mr. Ambassador. My name is

  Fowler, my rank is lieutenant commander, my

  branch of the service is the United States Navy."

  "Where the hell do you think you are? Behind the

  lines,

  246 ROBERT LUDLUM

  captured by the enemy? 'Name, rank, and serial

  number that's all I'm required to say under the

  rules of the Geneva Convention'!"

  "It's all I'm permitted to say, sir."

  "We'll damn well find out about that,

  Commander if you are a commander. Also about

  this Converse, who appears to be a very odd

  liar one minute the soul of propriety, the next a

  very strange man on the run."

  "Please try to understand, Mr. Ambassador, our

  assignment is classified. In no way does it involve

  diplomacy, nor will it impair your efforts as the chief

  American representative of our government. But it

  is classified. I will report this conversation to my

  superiors and you will undoubtedly hear from them.

  Now, if you gentlemen will forgive me, I'll be on my

  way."

  "I don't think so, Commander or whoever you

  are. But if you are who you say, nothing's

  compromised. I'm not a damn fool. Nothing will be

  said to anyone on the embassy staff. Mr. Dowling

  insisted on that and I accepted the condition. You

  and I will be locked in a communications room with

  a phone on a scrambler and you're going to place a

  call to Washington. I didn't take this job at a loss of

  three-quarters of a million a year to find shoe clerks

  running an investigation of my own company without

  my knowing about it. If I want an outside audit, I'll

  damn well order it myself."

  "I wish I could comply, sir; it sounds like a

  reasonable request. But I'm afraid I can't."

  "I'm afraid you will!"

  "Sorry."

  "Do as he says, Commander," interjected

  Dowling. "As he told you, nothing's been said to

  anyone, and nothing will be. But Converse needs

  protection; he's a wanted man in a foreign country

  and he doesn't even speak the language. Take

  Ambassador Peregrine's offer. He'll keep his word."

  "With respect, sirs, the answer is negative."

  Connal turned away and started up the wide path.

  "Major!" shouted the ambassador, his voice

  furious. "Stop him! Stop that man!"

  Fitzpatrick looked behind him; for reasons he

  could not explain to himself he saw what he never

  expected to see, and the instant he did, he knew he

  should have expected it. From out of the distant

  shadows of the immense, majestic building a man

  rushed forward, a man who was obviously a military

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 247

  aide to the ambassador a member of the embassy

  staff! Connal froze, Joel's words coming back to him.

  Those men you saw at the airport, the ones from the

  embassy . . . they're on the other side.

  Under almost any other circumstances,

  Fitzpatrick would have remained where he was and

  weathered it out. He hadn't actually done anything

  wrong; there was nothing illegal, no laws broken of

  which he was cognizant, and no one could force him

  to discuss personal matters where no law had been

  violated. Then he realized how wrong he was! The

  generals of George Marcus Delavane would force

  him, could force him! He spun around and ran.

  Suddenly gunfire erupted. Two earsplitting shots

  above him! He dove to the ground and rolled into

  the shadows of the bushes as a man's voice roared

  over the stillness of the night and the sleeping

  gardens.

  "You goddamned son of a bitch! What do you

  think you're doing!"

  There were further shouts, a further barrage of

  obscenities, and the sounds of struggle filled the

  quiet enclave of the university.

  "You don't kid a man! Besides, you bastard, there

  could be other people! Don't say a word, Mr.

  Ambassador!"

  Connal scrambled across the graveled path and

  spread apart the bordering foliage. In the clear

  moonlight of the distant bench, the actor Caleb

  Dowling the former marine from Kwajalein stood

  over the body of the major who had run out of the

  shadow, his boot on the supine man's throat, his

  hand grasping the man's extended arm to wrench the

  weapon free.

  "You are one dumb son of a bitch, Major! Or,

  goddamn you, maybe you're something else!"

  Fitzpatrick got to his knees, then to his feet, and,

  crouching, raced into the receding darkness of the

  wide path toward the exit.

  13

  "I didn't have any choice!" said Connal. He had

  dropped the attache case on the couch and was

  sitting in an adjacent chair, leaning forward, still

  shaking.

  "Calm down; try to relax." Converse walked to

  the elegant antique hunt table against the wall

  where there was a large silver tray with whisky, ice

  and glasses. Joel had learned to make use of room

  service in English. ' You need a drink," he said,

  pouring Fitzpatrick's bourbon.

  Do I ever! I've never been shot at. You have.

  Christ, is that what it's like?"

  "That's what it's like. You can't believe it. It's

  unreal, just mind-blowing sounds that can't really

  have anything to do with you, until until. you see

  the evidence for yourself. It's real, it's meant for

  you, and you're sick. There's no swelling music, no

  brass horns, just vomit." Converse brought the naval

  officer his drink.

  "You're omitting something," said Connal, taking

  the glass and looking up at Joel.

  "No, I'm not. Let's think about tonight. If you

  heard Dowling right, the ambassador
won't say

  anything around the embassy "

  "I remember," interrupted Fitzpatrick, taking

  several swallows of the bourbon, his eyes still on

  Converse. "It was in one of the other flags. During

  your second escape a man got killed; it was

  sundown. You reached him when it happened, and

  the flag said you went crazy for a couple of minutes.

  Somehow, according to this guy a sergeant, I

  think you circled around in the jungle, caught the

  North Vietnamese, killed him with his own knife

  and got his repeating rifle. Then you blew away

  three other Viets in the area."

  Joel held his place in front of the Navy lawyer.

  He answered the younger man, his voice quiet, his

  look angry. "I hate descriptions like that," he said

  flatly. ' It raises all the im

  248

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 249

  ages I loathe.... Let me tell you the way it was like

  it was, counselor. A kid, no more than nineteen, had

  to relieve himself, and although we stuck together he

  had the dignity to go ten or fifteen feet away to take

  care of his private functions, using leaves because

  squeezable toilet paper wasn't available. The

  maniac I won't use the word 'soldier' who killed

  him waited for the precise moment, then fired off a

 

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