Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt

by The Aquitaine Progression [lit]

  anything."

  "This is all very strange, sir."

  "If you're going to be a lawyer, get used to odd

  forms of communication. There's nothing illegal,

  simply a means of protecting your client's and your

  firm's confidentiality."

  "I have much to learn, it seems."

  "You're not doing anything wrong," continuedJoel

  quiet

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 351

  Iy,his eyes level withJohann's. "On the contrary,

  you're doing something very right, and I'll pay you

  very well for doing it."

  "Sehr gut, " said the young man.

  Converse waited in the taxi, his eyes scanning the

  street concentrating on stationary automobiles and

  those pedestrians walking too slowly or not at all, or

  anyone whose glances even seemingly strayed to the

  American Express office.. Johann went inside and

  Joel swallowed repeatedly, a tightness in his throat;

  the waiting was awful, made worse by the knowledge

  that he was using the student in a high-risk situation

  Then he thought briefly of Avery Fowler-Halliday

  and Connal Fitzpatrick; they had lost. The young

  German had an infinitely far greater chance of living

  for many years.

  The minutes went by as the sweat crawled

  through Converse's hair and down his neck; time was

  suspended in fear Finally, Johann came outside,

  blinking in the sunlight, inno cence personified. He

  crossed the street and climbed into the taxi.

  "What did they say to your" asked Joel, trying to

  sound casual, his eyes still roaming the street.

  "Only if I had been waiting long for the message.

  I replied that I expected it was a cablegram from

  Mykonos. I didn't know what else to say."

  "You did fine." Joel tore open the envelope and

  unfolded the wire. There was an unbroken series of

  written-out numbers, well over twenty, he judged at

  a glance. Again he remembered Laskaris'

  instructions: Pick every third number beginning with

  the third and ending with the third from the last. Think

  merely in terms of three. It's quite simple these things

  usually are and in any event, no one else can sign for

  you. It's merely a precaution.

  "Is everything all right?" asked Johann.

  "So far we're ahead one step and you're one step

  nearer a bonus, counselor."

  "I'm also nearer my examination."

  "What time do you take it?"

  "Three-thirty this afternoon."

  "Good omen. Think in terms of three."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Nothing. Let's find a pay telephone. You've only

  got one more thing to do, and tonight you can buy

  your friends the biggest dinner in Bonn."

  * * *

  352 ROBERT LUDLUM

  The taxi waited at the corner while Converse

  and the young German stood outside the booth,

  Johann having written down the bank's number

  from the telephone book. The student was reluctant

  to go any further; the exotic chores asked of him

  now were more than he cared to accept.

  'AII you have to do is tell the truth!" insisted

  Joel. "Only the truth. You met an American

  attorney who doesn't speak German and he's asked

  you to make a call for him. This attorney has to

  withdraw funds for a client from a confidential ac-

  counts-transfer and wants to know whom he should

  see. That's all. No one will ask your name, or mine,

  either, for that matter."

  ' And when I do this there will be something

  else, main Herr? Nein, I think not. You call

  yourself "

  "I can't make a mistake! I can't misunderstand

  a word. And there is nothing else. Just wait

  wherever you like around the bank or near the

  bank. When I come out I'll give you two thousand

  deutsche marks, and as far as I'm concerned far as

  anyone's concerned we never met."

  "So much for so little, sir. You can understand my

  fears."

  "They're nothing compared to mine," said

  Converse quietly yet urgently. "Please, do this. I

  need your help."

  As he had done the night before through the

  noise and the smoke and the flashing lights of the

  raucous bar, the young German looked hard at Joel,

  as if trying to see something he could not be sure

  was there. Finally, he nodded once without

  enthusiasm. "Sehr gut, " he said, stepping into the

  booth with several coins in his hand.

  Converse watched through the glass as the

  student dialed and obviously had brief conversations

  with two or three different people before reaching

  the correct party. The one-sided dialogue as

  observed by Joel seemed interminable far too long

  and too complicated for the simple request of a

  name in the transferred-accounts department. At

  one point, as he wrote something down on the scrap

  of paper with the bank's number on it, Johann

  appeared to object and Converse had to restrain

  himself from opening the door and terminabng the

  call. The German youth hung up and came out, his

  expression confused and angry.

  "What happened? Was there a problem?"

  "Only with the hour and institutional policy, sir."

  "What does that mean?"

  "Such accounts are serviced only after twelve noon.

  I

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 353

  made it clear that you had to be at the airport by

  then, but Herr Direktor said the bank's policy would

  stand." Johann handed Converse the slip of paper.

  'You're to see a man named Lachmann on the

  second floor."

  "I'll catch a later plane." Joel looked at the

  chauffeur's watch on his wrist. It was ten-thirty-five;

  an hour and a half to go.

  "I was hoping to be at the university library long

  before noon."

  "You can still be there," said Converse sincerely.

  "We can stop, get a stamped envelope, and you can

  write out your name and address. I'll mail the money

  to you."

  Johann glanced at the pavement, his hesitation all

  too obvious. "I think, perhaps . . . the examination is

  not so difficult for me. It's one of my better subjects."

  "Of course," agreed Joel. "There's no reason on

  earth why you should trust me."

  "You mistake me, sir. I believe you would mail

  the money to me. It's just that I'm not sure it's such

  a good idea for me to receive the envelope."

  Converse smiled; he understood. "Fingerprints?"

  he asked kindly. "Accepted rules of evidence?"

  "It's also one of my better subjects."

  "Okay, you're stuck with me for another couple of

  hours. I've got about seven hundred deutsche marks

  left until I reach the bank. Do you know some

  clothing store away from the main shopping district

  where I can buy a pair of trousers and a jacket?"

  "Yes, sir. And if I may suggest, if you are going

  to withdraw enough funds to give me two thousand

  deutsche marks perhaps a clean s
hirt and a tie might

  be in order."

  "Always check your client's appearance. You may

  go far, counselor."

  The ritual at the Bank aus der Bonner Sparkasse

  was a study in awkward but adamant efficiency. Joel

  was ushered into Herr Lachmann's office on the

  second floor where nei, ther a handshake nor small

  talk was offered. Only the business at hand was

  addressed.

  "Origin of transfer, please?" asked the blunt,

  corpulent executive.

  "Bank of Rhodes, Mykonos branch, waterfront office.

  The

  354 ROBERT LUDLUM

  name of the dispatcher,' I guess you'd call him, is

  Laskaris. I don't recall his first name."

  "Even his last is unnecessary,' said the German,

  as though he did not care to hear it. The transaction

  itself seemed somehow to offend him.

  "Sorry, I just wanted to be helpful. As you

  know, I'm in a great hurry. I have a plane to catch.'

  'Everything will be done according to the

  regulations, sir."

  ~Naturally."

  The banker shoved a sheet of paper across the

  desk. "You will write out your numerical signature

  five times, one below the other, as I read you the

  regulations which constitute the policy of the Bank

  aus der Bonner Sparkasse as they pertain to the

  laws of the Federal Republic of Germany. You will

  then be required to sign again in your numerical

  signature an affidavit that you thoroughly

  understood and accept these prohibitions.

  "I thought you said 'regulations.'"

  "One and the same, sir."

  Converse took the cablegram out of the inside

  pocket of his newly purchased sport jacket and

  placed it beside the blank page of stationery. He

  had underlined the correct numbers and began

  writing.

  "'You the numerically undersigned, traceable

  from the origin of transfer,'" droned the obese

  Lachmann, leaning back in his chair and reading

  from a single page, " 'swear to the fact that

  whatever funds withdrawn from the Bank aus der

  Bonner Sparkasse from this confidential account

  have been subject to all taxes, individual and

  corporate, from whatever sources of revenue. That

  they are not being processed through differing

  currencies to avoid said taxes, or for the purpose of

  making unlawful payments to individuals,

  companies, or corporations trafficking in illegal

  and

  "Forget it, Joel broke in. "I know it; I'll sign it.

  "' egregious activities outside the laws of the

  Federal Republic of Germany or the laws of the

  nation of which the undersigned is a legal resident

  with full citizenship.'

  "Ever tried half-full or resident alien status?

  said Converse, starting the last line of numbers. "I

  know a law student who could punch holes in that

  affidavit.

  "There is more, but you say you ll sign?"

  "Im sure there s more and of course I'll sign." Joel

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 355

  pushed the page with the handwritten numbers back

  to the banker. "There. Just get me the money. One

  hundred thousand American, minus your fee. Split it

  two thirds and a third. U.S. and Cenman, no bills

  over six hundred deutsche marks and five hundred

  American."

  "That is quite a bit of paper, sir."

  "I'll handle it. Please, as quickly as possible."

  'Is that amount the entire account? I would not

  know of course, until the scanners verify your

  'signature.' "

  "It's the entire account."

  "It could take several hours, natu'rlich."

  "What9"

  "The regulations, the policy. " The fat man

  extended his arms in supplication.

  "I don't have several hours!"

  "What can I do?" What can you do? A thousand

  American for you." One hour, sir."

  "Five thousand?"

  "Five minutes, my good friend."

  Converse walked out of the elevator. The

  abrasive newly acquired money belt was far less

  comfortable than the one he had purchased in

  Geneva, but it would have been pointless to refuse it.

  It was a courtesy of the bank, Lachmann had said as

  the German pocketed nearly twelve thousand

  deutsche marks for himself. The 'five minutes' had

  been a persuasive exaggeration, thought Joel as he

  glanced at the clock on the wall; it was nearly

  twelve-forty-five. The ritual had taken over half an

  hour, from his "indoctrination" to the verification of

  his "signature" by electronic scanners capable of

  detecting the slightest "fundamental" variation in the

  writing charactenstics. Apparently no one dared

  make any mistakes in the German banks where

  questionable practices were concerned. The

  regulations were followed right to the borders of

  illegality, with everyone covered by following orders

  that placed the burden of innocence solely on the

  recipients.

  Converse started for the bronze-bordered doors

  of the entrance when he saw the student,Johann,

  sitting on a marble bench, looking out of place but

  not uncomfortable. The young man was reading

  some sort of pamphlet put out by the bank. Or more

  precisely, he was pretending to read it; his eyes, dart-

  ing above the page, were watching the crowds

  crisscrossing

  356 ROBERT LUDLUM

  the marble floor. Converse nodded es Johann saw

  him; the student got up from the bench and waited

  until Joel reached the entrance before he began to

  follow.

  Something had happened. Outside on the

  pavement people were rushing in both directions,

  but mainly to the right; voices were raised, questions

  shouted, replies blurred with anger and angry

  ignorance.

  'What the hell is it?" asked Converse.

  "I don't know," replied Johann, next to him.

  "Something ugly, I think. People are running to the

  kiosk on the corner. The newspapers."

  "Let's get one," said Joel, touching the young

  man's arm, as they started toward the growing

  crowd on the block.

  "Attentat! Mord!Amerikanische Botschafter ermordet!"

  The newsstand operators were shouting, handing

  out papers as they grabbed coins and bills with little

  or no attempt to give change. There was a sense of

  swelling panic that came with sudden unexplained

  events that presaged greater disasters. All around

  them people were snapping papers, their eyes

  riveted on the headlines and the stories beneath.

  "Mein Gott!" cried Johann, glancing at a folded

  newspaper on his left. "The American ambassador

  has been assassinated!"

  "Christ! Get one of those!" Converse threw a

  number of coins into the kiosk as the young

  German grabbed a paper from the extended hand of

  a newsstand operator. "Let's get out of here!" yelled

  Joel, gripping the student's arm.

  But Johann did
not move. He stood there in the

  middle of the shouting crowd, staring at the

  newspaper, his eyes wide, his lips trembling.

  Converse shoved two men away with his shoulders

  as he pulled the young man forward, now both of

  them surrounded by anxious, protesting Germans

  obsessed with getting to the newsstand.

  "You!" Johann's scream was muted by some

  intolerable fear.

  Joel ripped the newspaper from the student's

  hands. In the upper canter of the front page were

  photographs of two men. On the left was the

  murdered Walter Peregrine, American ambassador

  to the Federal Republic. On the right was the face

  of an American Rechtsanwalt one of the few words

  in German Converse knew; it meant attomey. The

  photograph was of himself.

  20

  "No!" roared Joel, crushing the paper in his left

  fist, his right hand gripping Johann's shoulder.

  "Whatever it says, it's a lie! I'm not any part of this!

  Don't you see what they're trying to do? Come on

  with me!"

  "Rein!" the young German, looking frantically

  around, realising his voice was lost in the enveloping

  bedlam.

  "I said yes!" Converse shoved the newspaper inside

  his jacket, and throwing his right arm around

  Johann's neck, pulled him alongside. "You can think