Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt

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by The Aquitaine Progression [lit]


  and do what you like, but first you come with me!

  You're going to read me every goddamned word!"

  "Da ist er! Der Affentater!" shrieked the young

  German, reaching out, clutching the trousers of a

  man in the crowd who cursed and swung his arm

  down on the offending hand.

  Joel wrenched the student's neck to his left, and

  shouted into his ear, his words stunning himself as

  much as they did the young man. "You want it this

  way, you can have it! I've got a gun in my pocket and

  if I have to use it I will! Two decent men have been

  killed already now three why should you be the

  exception? Because you're young? That's no reason!

  When you come right down to it, who the hell are we

  dying for?"

  Converse yanked the youth back and forth,

  dragging him out of the crowd. Once on the clear

  pavement he released his armlock, replacing it with a

  strong grip on the back of Johann's neck. He

  propelled the student forward, his eyes roving the

  street, trying to find a secluded area where they could

  talk where Johann could talk, after reading a string

  of lies put out by the men of Aquitaine. The

  newspaper slipped down beneath his jacket; he

  reached in and grabbed it by the edge, pulling the

  paper out intact. He could not just keep walking,

  pushing his captive down the pavement; several peo-

  ple had glanced at them, fuel for the curious. Oh,

  Christ! The

  357

  358 ROBERT IUDIUM

  photograph hisJace! Anyone might recognize him,

  and he was calling attention to himself by keeping

  the boy in tow.

  Up ahead, on the right, there was a bakery or a

  coffee shop or a combination of both with tables

  under umbrellas on the sidewalk; several were

  empty at the far end. He would have preferred a

  deserted alley or a cobblestoned side street too

  narrow for vehicles, but he could not keep doing

  what he was doing walking so rapidly with a

  prisoner in his grip.

  'Over there! That table in the rear. You sit

  facing out. And remember, I wasn't joking about the

  gun, my hand will be in my pocket. '

  "Please, let me go! You've done enough to me!

  My friends know we left together last night; my

  landlady knows I got you a room! The police will

  question me!"

  "Get in there," said Converse, shoving Johann

  between the chairs to the table at the rear of the

  pavement. Both sat down; the young German was

  no longer trembling, but his eyes were darting in all

  directions. "Don't even think about it," continued

  Joel. "And when a waiter comes over, speak in

  English. Only English!"

  "There are no waiters. Customers go inside and

  bring out their own sweet rolls and coffee."

  "We'll do without you can get something later.

  I owe you money and I pay my debts."

  . . . I always pay my debts. At least during the last

  four years I have. Words from a note left by a

  risk-taker. An actor named Caleb Dowling.

  "I want no money from you," saidJohann, his

  English guttural with fear.

  ' You think it's tainted, makes you a true accessory,

  is that

  "You are the lawyer, I am merely a student."

  "Let me set you straight. It's not tainted because

  I didn't do whatever they said I did, and there's no

  such thing as an accessory to innocence."

  "You are the lawyer, sir."

  Converse pushed the newspaper in front of the

  young German and with his right hand reached into

  his pocket where he had put ten thousand deutsche

  marks in ascending denominations for his immediate

  use. He counted out seven thousand and reached

  over, placing it in front of Johann. "Put that away

  before I shove it down your throat."

  "I will not take your money!"

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 359

  "You'll take it and tell them I gave it to you, if

  you want to. They'll have to give it back."

  'What do you mean?"

  'The truth, counselor. You'll find out one day

  that it's the best shield you've got. Now, read me

  what the paper saysI"

  "'The ambassador was killed sometime last

  night,'" began the student haltingly as he awkwardly

  put the deutsche marks in his pocket. ". . . The

  approximate time of death is difficult to establish

  until further examinations,'" he continued, translating

  the words in the article in fits and starts, trying to

  find the appropriate meanings. " '. . . The fatal

  wound was . . . 'Scha'del' cranial, a head wound 'the

  body in the water for many hours, washed up on the

  riverbank in the Plittersdorf and found early this

  morning.... The military charge d'affaires was quoted

  as saying that the last person known to have been

  with the ambassador was an American by the name

  of Joel Converse. When that name appeared, there

  were . . .' " The young German squinted, shaking his

  head nervously. "How do you say it?"

  "I don't know," said Joel coldly, his voice flat.

  "What am I trying to say?"

  "'. . . very excited' frantic 'communications

  between the governments of Switzerland, France and

  the Federal Republic, all in coordination with the

  International Criminal Police, otherwise known as

  Interpol, and the . . . pieces of the tragic . . . Ratsel

  . . . puzzle fell into place,' became clear, it means.

  'Unknown to Ambassador Peregrine, the American

  Converse has been the object of an Interpol . . .

  Suche. . . search as a result of killings in Geneva and

  Paris as well as several attempted murders not yet

  clarified.' " Johann looked up at Converse. There was

  a throbbing in his throat.

  "Go on," ordered Joel. "You don't know how

  enlightening this is. Go on 1"

  "'According to the ambassador's office, a

  confidential meeting was arranged at the request of

  this man Converse, who claimed to have information

  injurious to American interests and which has

  subsequently proven to be false. The two men were

  to meet at the entrance of the Adenauer Bridge

  between seven-thirty and eight o'clock last evening.

  The charge d'affaires who accompanied Ambassador

  Peregrine confirmed that the two men met at

  seven-fifty-one P.M. and started across the bridge on

  the pedestrian walkway. It was the last time anyone

  from the embassy saw the ambassador

  360 ROBERT LUDLUM

  alive.' " Johann swallowed, his hands trembling. He

  took several deep breaths and went on, his eyes

  rushing forward across the print, beads of

  perspiration breaking out on his hairline. Below are

  more complete . . . eingehendere . . . details as they

  are known, but a statement issued by Interpol

  described the suspect, Joel as an apparently normal

  man who is in reality a ... wandernde....'" The young

  German lowered his voice
to a whisper. "'a walking

  explosive with severe mental disturbances. He is

  judged by several behavioral experts in the United

  States to be psychopathically ill as a result of nearly

  four years as a prisoner of war during the Vietnam

  conflict....'"

  As Johann stammered on, frightened by his own

  voice, the telling words and damning phrases came

  with staccato regularity, backed up by hastily

  contacted departmental "sources" and unnamed,

  faceless `authorities." The portrait was that of a

  mentally deranged man who had been thrown back

  in time, his derangement triggered by some violent

  event that left him with his intelligence intact but

  without moral or physical control. In addition,

  Interpolts search for him was spoken of in clouded

  terms, implying a secret manhunt that had been in

  progress for a number of days, if not weeks.

  " '. . . His homicidal tendencies are channeled,'

  " continued the now near-panicked student as the

  article quoted another "authoritative" source. " . . .

  He has a pathological hatred for present or former

  high-ranking military personnel, especially those

  who had gained prominent public stature. . . .

  Ambassador Peregrine was a celebrated battalion

  commander in World War Two's Bastogne

  campaign, during which many American lives were

  lost.... Authorities in Washington have speculated

  that the disturbed man, who after several harrowing

  attempts finally escaped from a maximum-security

  camp in North Vietnam years ago, traveling over a

  hundred miles through enemy. . . Dschungel . . .

  jungle to reach his lines, is reliving his own

  experiences.... His jusfffication for

  survival according to a military psychiatrist is the

  killing of superior officers, past or present, who

  gave orders in combat, or, in the extreme, even

  civilians who in his imaginings bore some

  responsibility for the suffering he and others

  endured. Yet he is outwardly a normal man, as so

  many like him.... Guards have been placed in

  Washington, London, Brussels, and here in Bonn....

  As an international law

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 361

  yer,whois presumed to have access to numerous

  criminal elements who deal in illegal passports . . .'"

  It was a brilliantly executed trap, the crucial lies

  supported by truths, half-truths, distortions and

  complete falsehoods. Even the precise timing of the

  evening was considered. The charge d'affaires at the

  embassy stated unequivocally that he had seen Joel

  at the Adenauer Bridge "at 7:51 P.M.,"

  approximately twenty-five minutes after he had

  broken out of the stone jailhouse on Leifhelm's

  estate, and less than ten minutes after he had

  plunged into the Rhine. Every fragment of the hour

  was accounted for. That he was 'officially" placed at

  the bridge by 7:51" denied his story of capture and

  escape any credibility.

  The incident in Geneva the death of A. Preston

  Halliday was introduced as a possible explanation

  for the violent act that had hurled him back in time,

  triggering Joel's maniacal behavior. '. . . It has been

  learned that the attorney who was shot to death had

  been a well-known leader in the American protest

  movement in the sixties...." The veiled conclusion

  was that Converse might have hired the killers. Even

  the death of the man in Paris was given a very

  different and far more important dimension oddly

  enough, based in reality. ". . . Initially the victim's

  true identity was withheld in hopes of aiding the

  manhunt, as suspicions were aroused as a result of

  an interview the Surete had with a French lawyer

  who has known the suspect for a number of years.

  The attorney who had lunched with the suspect that

  day indicated that his American friend was in

  'serious troubles and needed 'medical attention.' . .

  ." The dead man in Paris, of course, was an out-

  standing colonel in the French Army, and an aide

  successively to several "prominent generals."

  Finally, as if to convince any remaining

  unbelievers in this public trial by "authoritative"

  journalism, references were made not only to his

  conduct but to the remarks he made upon his

  separation from service over a decade and a half

  ago. These were released by the United States

  Department of the Navy, Fifth Naval District, which

  included its own recommendation at the time that

  one Lieutenant Converse be placed under voluntary

  psychiatric observation; it was refused. His conduct

  had been insulting in the extreme to the panel of

  officers who wished only to help him, and his

  remarks were nothing short of violent threats against

  numerous

  362 ROBERT LUDIUM

  high-ranking military personnel, whom, as a carrier

  pilot, he could have known nothing about.

  It all completed the portrait as painted by the

  artists of Aquitaine. Johann finished the article, the

  newspaper now clutched in his hands, his eyes wide

  and frightened. "That s all there is . . . sir."

  "I d hate to think there's any more," said Joel.

  "Do you believe it?"

  "I have no thoughts. I'm too frightened to think."

  "That s an honest answer. Uppermost in your

  mind is the fact that I might kill you, so you can't

  face what you think. That's what you're really saying.

  You're afraid that by a look or a wrong word I

  could take offence and pull a trigger."

  "Please, sir, I am not adequate!"

  "Neither was 1."

  "Let me go. "

  ''Johann. My hands are on the table. They've

  been on the table since we sat down."

  "What . . . ?" The young Cerman blinked and

  looked at Converse's forearms, both of which were

  in front of him, his hands clasped on the white

  metal surface. "You have no gun?"

  "Oh, yes, I have a gun. I took it from a man who

  would have killed me if he'd had the chance." Joel

  reached into his pocket as Johann stiffened.

  "Cigarettes," said Converse, taking out a pack and a

  book of matches. "It's a terrible habit. Don't start if

  you don't smoke."

  "It's very expensive."

  "Among other things. " Joel struck a match,

  lighting a cigarette, his eyes remaining on the

  student. "We've talked off and on since last night.

  Except for a few moments back there in the crowd

  when you could have had me Iynched, do I look or

  sound like the man described in that newspaper

  story?"

  "I am no more a doctor than a lawyer."

  "Two points for the opposition. The burden of

  sanity's on me. Besides, it said I appeared perfectly

  normal."

  "It said you suffered a great deal."

  "Several hundred years ago, but no more than

  thousands of others and far, far less than some

  fifty-eight thousand
who never came back. I don't

  think an insane man is capable of making a rational

  remark like that under these circumstances do you?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  '~I'm trying to tell you that everything you just read

  to

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 363

  me is an example of a man being tried by negative

  journalism. Truths mixed with half-truths, distortions,

  and implausible judgments were slanted to support

  the lies that are meant to convict me. There's not a

  court in any civilised country that would admit that

  kind of testimony or permit a jury to hear t.

  "Men have been killed," said Johann, again his

  words whispered. "The ambassador was killed."

  "Not by me. I wasn't anywhere near the

  Adenauer Bridge at eight o'clock last night. I don't

  even know where it is."

  "Where were you?'

  "Not where anyone saw me, if that's what you

  mean. And those who know I couldn't have been at

  the bridge would be the last people on earth to say

  so."

  "There has to be some evidence of where you

  were." The young German nodded at the cigarette in

  Converse's hand. "Perhaps one of those. Perhaps you

  finished a cigarette."

  "Or finger or foot prints? Pieces of clothing?

  There's all of that, but they don't tell the time."

  "There are methods," corrected Johann. "The

  advances in the technology of. . . Forschung. . . the

  investigation techniques have been rapid."

  "Let me finish that for you. I'm not a criminal

  lawyer but I know what you're saying. Theoretically,

  for example, the ground depression of a footprint

 

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