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Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt

Page 45

by The Aquitaine Progression [lit]

succeed. "

  Jacques-Louis Bertholdier: "You must

  understand, Mr. Converse, that Voltaire said it best

  in his Discours sur l'homme. Essentially he wrote that

  man attained his highest freedom only when he

  understood the parameters of his behavior. We will

  establish those parameters. Is anything more logical?

  Erich Leilhelm: "Goethe said it perhaps better

  when he insisted that the romance of politics was

  best used to numb and quell the fears of the

  uninformed. In his definitive Aus meinem Leben he

  states clearly that all governing classes must be

  imbued above all with discipline. Where is it more

  prevalent?"

  Jan van Headmer: "My own country, sir, is the

  living embodiment of the lesson. We took the beast

  out of the savage and formed a vast, productive

  nation. The beast returns and my nation is in

  turmoil."

  And so it went for several hours. Quiet

  dissertations delivered thoughtfully, reflectively,

  passions apparent only in the deep sincerity of their

  convictions. Twice Joel was pressed to reveal the

  name of his client and twice he demurred, stating the

  legal position of confidentiality which could change

  in a matter of days, perhaps less.

  "I'd have to offer my client something concrete.

  An approach, a strategy that would warrant his

  immediate involvement, his commitment, if you will."

  "Why is that necessary at this juncture?" asked

  Bertholdier. "You've heard our reasoning. Certainly

  an approach can be discerned."

  "All right, scratch approach. A strategy, then. Not

  the why but the how."

  288 ROBERT LUDLlJM

  "You ask for a plan?" said Abrahms. "On what

  basis?"

  "Because you'll be asking for an investment

  surpassing anything in your experience."

  "That's an extraordinary statement," interjected

  Van Headmer.

  "He has extraordinary resources," replied Converse.

  "Very well," said LeifLelm, glancing at each of

  his associates before he continued. Joel understood;

  permission was being sought based on prior

  discussions. It was granted "What would you say to

  the compromising of certain powerful individuals in

  specific governments?"

  "Blackmail?" asked Joel. "Extortion? It wouldn't

  work There are too many checks and balances. A

  man's threatened the threat's discovered and he's

  out anyway. Then the purification rites set in, and

  where there was once weakness, suddenly there's a

  great deal of strength."

  "That's an extremely narrow interpretation," said

  Bertholdier.

  "You do not take into consideration the time

  element!)' cried Abrahms defiantly, for the first

  time raising his voice. "Accumulation, Converse!

  Rapid acceleration!"

  Suddenly Joel was aware that the three other

  men were looking at the Israeli, but not simply

  watching him. In each pair of eyes was a warning.

  Abrahms shrugged. "It's merely

  "Well taken," said Converse, without emphasis.

  "I'm not even sure it applies," added the Israeli,

  compounding his error.

  "Well, I'm sure it's time for dinner," said

  Leilhelm, removing his hand from the side of his

  chair. "I've boasted so much about my table to our

  guest that I admit to a shortness of

  breath concern, of course. I trust the chef has

  upheld my honor." As if answering a signal which

  Joel knew was the case the British manservant

  appeared beneath an archway at the far end of the

  room. "I am clairvoyant!" Leifhelm rose. "Come,

  come, my friends. Saddle of lamb a citron, a dish

  created by the gods for themselves and stolen by the

  irrepressible thief who rules my kitchen."

  The dinner was indeed superb, each dish the

  result of an isolated effort to achieve perfection in

  both taste and presentation. Converse was no

  gourmet, his culinary education having been forced

  on him in expensive restaurants where his mind was

  only mildly distracted by the food, but he instinc

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 289

  tively knew when a dish was the best in its class.

  There was nothing second-rate about Leifhelm's

  table, including the table itself, an enormous solid

  mass of mahogany supported by two huge but

  delicately carved tripods resting on the intricate

  parquet floor. The deep-red velour walls in the

  high-ceilinged room were hung with oils of hunting

  scenes. The low candelabra in front of the

  silver-mirrored place mats did not obstruct a guest s

  view of the person opposite, a feat Joel wished could

  be mastered by most of the hostesses in New York,

  London and Ceneva.

  The talk veered away from the serious topics

  explored in the sitting room. It was as if a recess had

  been called, a diversion to ease the burdens of

  statesmanship. If that was the aim, it was eminently

  successful, and it was the Afrikaner, Van Headmer,

  who led the way. In his soft-spoken, charming way

  (the dossier had been accurate the "unfeeling killer"

  was charming) he described a safari he had taken

  Chaim Abrahms on in the veldt

  "Do you realize, gentlemen that I bought this

  poor Hebrew his first jacket at Safarics' in

  Johannesburg and there's never been a day when I

  haven't regretted it. It's become our great general's

  trademark! Of course, you know why he wears it. It

  absorbs perspiration and requires very little washing

  simply large applications of bay rum. This is a

  different jacket, isn't it, great general?"

  "Bleach, bleach, I tell my wife!" replied the sabre,

  grimacing. "It takes out the smell of the godless slave

  traders!"

  "Talking of slaves, let me tell you," said the

  Afrikaner warming to his story with a glass of wine,

  changed with each new course.

  The story of Chaim Abrahms' first and only safari

  was worthy of good vaudeville. Apparently the Israeli

  had been stalking a male lion for hours with his gun

  bearer, a Bantu he constantly abused, not realizing

  the black understood and spoke English as well as

  he. Abrahms had zeroed in each of his four rifles

  prior to the hunt, but whenever he had the lion in

  his sights, he missed. This supposedly superb

  marksman, this celebrated general with the rifle-eye

  of a hawk, could not hit eight feet of flesh a hundred

  yards away. At the end of the day an exhausted

  Chaim Abrahms, using broken English and a

  multiplicity of hand gestures, bribed the gun bearer

  not to tell the rest of the safari of his misses. The

  hunter and the Bantu returned to camp, the hunter

  lamenting the nonexis

  290 ROBERT LUDLUM

  fence of cats and the stupidity of gun bearers. The

  native went to Van Headmer's tent, and as the

  Afrikaner told it in perfectly-mimicked Anglicized

&nb
sp; Bantu, said the following: 'I liked the lion more

  than the Jew, sir. I altered his sights, sir, but appar-

  ently I will be forgiven my indiscretion, sir. Among

  other enticements, he has offered to have me

  bar-mitzvahed."

  The diners collapsed in laughter Abrahms, to

  his credit, loudest of all. Obviously, he had heard

  the story before and relished the telling. It occurred

  to Joel that only the most secure could listen to

  such telling tales about themselves and respond with

  genuine laughter. The Israeli was a rock in the

  firmament of his convictions and could easily

  tolerate a laugh on himself. That, too, was

  frightening.

  The British servant intruded, walking silently on

  the hard wood floor and spoke into Erich

  Leifhelm's ear.

  "Forgive me, please," said the German, rising to

  take the call. "A nervous broker in Munich who

  consistently picks up rumors from Riyadh. A sheik

  goes to the toilet and he hears thunder from the

  east."

  The ebullient conversation went on without a

  break in the flow, the three men of Aquitaine

  behaving like old comrades sincerely trying to make

  a stranger feel welcome. This, too, was frightening.

  Where were the fanatics who wanted to destroy

  governments, ruthlessly grabbir g control and shack-

  ling whole societies, channeling the body politic into

  their vision of the military state? These were men of

  intellect. They spoke of Voltaire and Goethe, and

  had compassion for suffering and pain and

  unnecessary loss of life. They had humor and could

  even laugh at themselves while speaking calmly of

  sacrificing their own lives for the betterment of a

  world gone mad. ButJoel understood their true

  nature. These were interlopers assuming the mantels

  of statesmen. What had Leifhelm said, quoting

  Goethe? "The romance of politics was best used to

  numb and quell the fears of the uninformed."

  Frightening.

  LeifLelm returned, followed by the British

  servant carrying two open bottles of wine. If the call

  from Munich had brought unfavorable news, the

  German gave no indication of it. His spirits were as

  before, his waxen smile at the ready and his

  enthusiasm for the next course unbridled. "And

  now, my friends, the lamb d citron medallions of

  ambrosia and, hyperbole aside, actually rather good.

  Also, in honor of our guest we have a bonus this

  evening. My astute English friend and

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 291

  companion was in Siegburg the other day and ran

  across several bottles of Beerenauslese, '71. What

  could be a more fitting tribute?"

  The men of Aquitaine glanced at one another,

  then Bertholdier spoke. 'Certainly a find, Erich. It's

  one of the more acceptable German varieties."

  ' The '82 Klausberg Riesling in Johannesburg

  promises to be among the finest in years, ' said Van

  Headmer.

  'I doubt it will rival the Richon-le-Zion Carmel,

  ' added the Israeli.

  "You are all impossible!"

  A behatted chef rolled in a silver service cart,

  uncovered the saddle of lamb and, under

  appreciative looks, proceeded to carve and serve.

  The Englishman presented the various side dishes to

  each diner, then poured the wine.

  Erich Leifhelm raised his glass, the flickering

  light of the candles reflecting off the carved crystal

  and the edges of the silver-mirrored place mats. To

  our guest and his unknown client, both of whom we

  trust will soon be in our fold."

  Converse nodded his head and drank.

  He took the glass from his lips, and was suddenly

  aware that the four men of Aquitaine were staring at

  him, their own glasses still on the table. None had

  drunk the wine.

  LeifLelm spoke again, his voice nasal, cold, a

  fury held in check by an intellect in control. `4

  General Delavane was the enemy, our enemy! Men

  like that can't be allowed anymore, can't you

  understand!' Those were the words, were they not,

  Mr. Converse?"

  WhatP"Joel heard his voice but was not sure it

  was his. The flames of the candles suddenly erupted,

  fire filled his eyes and the burning in his throat

  became an unbearable pain. He grabbed his neck as

  he struggled out of the chair, hurling it back, he

  heard the crash, but only as a succession of echoes.

  He was falling. The pain surged into his stomach; it

  was intolerable; he clutched his groin, frantically

  trying to suppress the pain. Then he felt the chill of

  a hard surface and somehow knew he was writhing

  wildly on the floor while being held in check by

  powerful arms.

  `The gun. Step back. Hold him." The voice, too,

  was a series of echoes, though sharply enunciated in

  a searing British accent. "Now. Fire!"

  16

  The telephone rang, jolting Connal Fitzpatrick

  out of a deep sleep. He had fallen back on the

  couch, the Van Headmer dossier in his hand, both

  feet still planted on the floor. Shaking his head and

  rapidly blinking and widening his eyes, he tried to

  orient himself. Where was he? What time it? The

  phone rang again, now a prolonged, shattering

  sound. He lurched off the couch, his breathing

  erratic, his exhaustion too complete to shake offin

  a few seconds. He had not really slept since

  California; his body and mind could barely function.

  He grabbed the phone, nearly dropping it as he

  momentarily lost his balance.

  "Yes... hello!"

  "Commander Fitzpatrick, if you please," said a

  male voice in a clipped British accent.

  "This Is he."

  "Philip Dunstone here, Commander. I'm calling

  for Mr Converse. He wanted me to tell you that the

  conference is goings - well, far better than he

  thought possible."

  "Dunstone. Major Philip Dunstone. I'm senior

  aide to General Berkeley-Greene."

  "Berkeley-Greene?"

  "Yes, Commander. Mr. Converse said to tell you

  that along with the others he's decided to accept

  General Leifhelm's hospitality for the night. He'll

  be in touch with you first thing in the morning."

  'Let me talk to him. Now."

  "I'm afraid that's not possible. They've all gone

  out on the motor launch for a spin downriver.

  Frankly, they're a secretive lot, aren't they?

  Actually, I'm not permitted to attend their

  discussions any more than you are."

  "I'm not settling for this, Major!"

  "Really, Commander, I'm simply relaying a

  message.

  292

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 293

  . . . Oh yes, Mr. Converse did mention that if you

  were concerned I should also tell you that if the

  admiral called, you were to thank him and give him

  his regards."

  Fitzpatrick stared at the wall. Converse would
/>   not bring up the Hickman business unless he was

  sending a message. The request made no sense to

  anyone but the two of them. Everything was all right.

  Also there could be several reasons why Joel did not

  care to talk directly on the phone. Among them,

  thought Connal resentfully, was probably the fact

  that he didn't trust his "aide" to say the proper words

  in the event their conversation was being overheard.

  'AII right, Major . . . what was the name again?

  Dunstone?"

  'That's right, Philip Dunstone. Senior aide to

  General Berkeley-Greene. "

  "Leave word for Mr. Converse that I'll expect to

  hear from him by eight o'clock."

  "Isn't that a little harsh, old boy? It's nearly two

  A.M. now. The breakfast buffet usually starts about

  nine-thirty out here."

  "Nine o'clock, then," said Fitzpatrick firmly.

  "I'll tell him myself, Commander. Oh, one final

  thing. Mr. Converse asked me to apologize for his

  not having reached you by midnight. They've really

  been at it hammer and tongs in there."

  That was it, thought Connal. Everything was

  under control. Joel certainly would not have made

  that remark otherwise. "Thanks, Major, and by the

  way, I'm sorry I was rude. I was asleep and tried to

  get it together too fast."

  "Lucky chap. You can head back to the pillows

  while I stand watch. Next time you can take my

  place."

  "If the food's good, you're on."

  "It's not, really. A lot of pansy cooking, to tell

  you the truth. Good night, Commander."

 

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