Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt

by The Aquitaine Progression [lit]

  understand. And that is why I'm giving you this

  telephone number. It is not my office; it is my flat in

  Paris my wife will know where to reach me. Simply

  remember, in an emergency say that you are from

  the Tatiana family."

  Stone sat at the desk, the ever-present telephone

  in his hand. He was alone had been alone when the

  call came from Charlotte, North Carolina, from a

  woman he had once loved very dearly years ago in

  the field. She had left the "terrible game," as she

  called it; he had stayed, their love not strong enough.

  The connection was completed to Cuxhaven,

  West Germany, to a telephone he was sure would be

  sterile. That certainty was one of the pleasures in

  dealing with Johnny Reb.

  "Bobbie-Jo's Chicken FryI" was the greeting over

  the line. "We deliver."

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 577

  me out of the Dardanelles before those guns got

  there. That was really more important than getting

  me off the hook with those contingency funds in

  Bahrain."

  "Thanks, but not yet. If you go in for him now,

  we show cards we can't show."

  "How long can you wait? Remember I taped that

  prick Washburn."

  "How much did you put together?"

  "More than this old brain can absorb, if you want

  the truth. But not more than I can accept. It's been

  a long time coming, hasn't it? The eagles think

  they're gonna catch the goddamned sparrows after

  all, don't they? 'Cause they're gonna turn everyone

  into sparrows.... You know, Stone, I shouldn't say

  this because in your old age you became a bit softer

  than I did in mine, but if they get it off the ground,

  a lot of people everywhere may just lie back in their

  hammocks or go fishin', and say the hell with it let

  the big, uniformed daddies do it. Let'em straighten

  things out get the potheads with their guns and

  switchblades off the streets and out of the parks.

  Show the Russkies and the oil boys in bathrobes we

  don't take their crap anymore. Let's show Jesus

  we're the good guys with a lot of clout. Those

  soldiers, they got the guts and the guns, the

  corporations and the conglomerates, so what does it

  mean to me? Where do I change, says the Joe in the

  hammock, except maybe for the better?"

  "Not better," said Stone icily. "Those same people

  become robots. We all become robots, if we live.

  Don't you understand that?"

  "Yeah, I do," answered Johnny Reb. "I guess I

  always have. I live on a hog-high in Bern while you

  scratch in D.C Yes, old buddy, I understand. Maybe

  better than you do. . . . Forget it, I'm enlisted. But

  what in all-fire hell are you going to do about this

  Converse? I don't think he's going to get out."

  "He has to. We think he has the answers the

  firsthand answers that give us the proof."

  "In my opinion he's dead," said the Southerner.

  "Maybe not now but soon soon's they find him."

  "We have to find him first. Can you help?"

  "I started the night I needled Major Norman

  Anthony Washburn the Fourth, Fifth, or Sixth I

  keep rosin' track of the numerals. You got the

  computers the ones you have ac

  578 ROBERT LUDLUM

  cess to and I've got the streets where they sell

  things you're not supposed to buy. So far, nothing."

  '.Try to find something, because you were right

  before we don't have much time. And, Johnny, do

  you have the same feeling I have about that island,

  about Scharhorn?"

  "Like Appomattox, way down deep in the

  stomach. I can taste the bile, Brer Rabbit, which is

  why I'm going to possum down here for a few days.

  We found ourselves a beehive, boy and the drones

  are restless, I can sense it."

  34

  Joel put the map and the thick envelope on the

  grass and began pulling branches down from a small

  tree in the orchard to cover Hermione Geyner's car.

  Each yanking of a limb filled him with pain, as

  much from fatigue as from the strain on his arms.

  Finally, he bunched together reeds of tall grass and

  threw them everywhere over the frame The effect in

  the moonlight was that of an immense mound of

  hay. He picked up the map and the envelope and

  started walking toward the road two hundred yards

  away. According to the map, he was on the outskirts

  of a city or town called Appenweier, ten miles from

  the border at Kehl, directly across the Rhine from

  Strasbourg.

  He walked along the road, running into the grass

  whenever he saw the headlights of a car in either

  direction. He had traveled perhaps five or six

  miles there was no way to tell and knew that he

  could go no farther.

  In the jungles he had rested, knowing that rest was

  as much a wee pon as a gun, the eyes and the mind

  far more lethal when alert than a dozen steel weapons

  strapped to his bady.

  He found a short ravine that bordered a brook,

  the rocks would be his fortress he fell asleep.

  Valerie walked out of the Charles De Gaulle

  Airport on the arm of the man from the Surete,

  Prudhomme, having accepted the scrap of paper

  with his telephone number but vol

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 579

  tmteering nothing. They approached the cabstand on

  the platform and Prudhomme spoke. "I will make

  myself clear madame. You may take a taxi here and

  I shall bid you adieu, or you may permit me to drive

  you wherever you like perhaps to another taxi

  stand in the city, to go wherever you wish and I will

  know if anyone is following you."

  "You would?"

  "In thirty-two years, even a fool learns something.

  My wife keeps telling me she has no lovers only

  because I have learned the rudiments of my

  profession."

  "I accept your invitation," interrupted Val,

  smiling. "I'm terribly tired. A small hotel, perhaps.

  Le Pont Royal, I know it."

  "An excellent choice, but I must say that my wife

  would welcome you without any questions."

  "My time must be my own, monsieur," said

  Valerie, climbing into the car.

  "D 'accord. "

  "Why are you doing this?" she asked as

  Prudhomme got behind the wheel. "My husband was

  a lawyer is a lawyer. The rules can't be that

  different. Aren't you some kind of ac-

  cessory assuming what I know damned well you're

  assuming?"

  "I only wish that you will call me, saying that you

  are from the Tatiana family. That is my risk and that

  is my reward."

  Converse looked at his watch a watch taken

  from a collapsed body so long ago he could not

  remember when and saw that it was five-forty-five

  in the morning, the sun abruptly illuminating his

  fortress ravine. The stream was below, and so he

  took care of his necessities downstream and plunged
<
br />   his face into the flow of water upstream. He had to

  move; as he remembered, he had five miles to walk

  to the border.

  He reached Kehl. There he bought a razor,

  reasoning that a priest would maintain his

  appearance as best he could even under the duress

  of poor travel accommodations. He shaved at the

  river depot, then took the ferry across the scenic

  Rhine to Strasbourg. The customs officials were so

  deferential to his collar and his passport as well as to

  his shabby appearance undoubtedly taken as a sign

  of the vow of poverty that he found himself

  blessing a number of men, and by extension their

  entire families, as he was passed through the

  building.

  580 ROBERT LUDLUM

  Out on the bustling streets he knew that the first

  thing he had to do was to get into a hotel room,

  shower off two days of fear and violence, and have

  his clothes cleaned or replaced. An

  impoverished-looking priest would not travel to the

  expensive wonders of Chamonix; it would be

  unseemly. But a normally dressed priest, would be

  perfectly acceptable, even desirable, a figure of

  respectability among the crowds. And a priest he

  would remain, Converse had decided the decision

  here based again on legal experience. Think out

  anticipate what your adversary expects you to do,

  then do not conform unless you retain the

  advantage. The hunters of Aquitaine would expect

  him to shed his priestly habit, as it was his last

  known means of disguise; he would not do that;

  there were too many priests in France and too much

  advantage in being one.

  He registered at the Sofitel on the Place Saint-

  Pierre-le-Jeune and without elaboration explained to

  the concierge that he had been through a dreadful

  three days of traveling and would the kind man see

  to several items he needed rather desperately. He

  was from a very well-endowed parish in Los Angeles

  and An American $100 bill took care of the rest.

  His suit was cleaned and pressed within the hour,

  his muddy shoes shined, and two new shirts with

  clerical collars purchased from a shop "unfortunately

  quite a distance away on the Quai Kellermann," thus

  necessitating an additional charge. The gratuities,

  the expenses and the surcharges for rush service --

  all were a hotelman's dream. The suntanned priest

  with a blemish or two on his face, and odd demands

  based on time, certainly had to come from a

  "well-endowed" parish. It was worth it. He had

  checked in at eight-thirty in the morning, and by

  nine-fifty-five he was ready to make his final

  arrangements for Chamonix.

  He could not risk taking a plane or going by rail;

  too much had happened to him at airports and on

  trains they would be watched. And sooner or later

  Hermione Geyner's car would be found, and his

  direction if not his destination would be known.

  Aquitaine's alarms would go out across the three

  borders of Germany, France and Switzerland; again

  the safest way was by automobile. The eagerly

  accommodating concierge was summoned; a fine

  rental car was arranged for the youngish monsignor,

  and a route planned to Geneva, some two hundred

  thirty-eight miles south.

  Of course, he would not cross over into Geneva but

  would

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 581

  go along the border roads and head for Chamonix,

  an hour-plus away. His estimated travel time was

  between five and six hours; he would reach the base

  of Mont Blanc by four-thirty in the afternoon, five at

  the latest. He wasted no time speeding out of

  Strasbourg on the Alpine Autoroute marked 83 on

  his map.

  Valerie dressed as the first light silhouetted the

  irregularly shaped buildings of Paris outside her

  windows on the Boulevard Raspail. She had not been

  able to sleep, nor had she made any attempt to to do

  so; she had lain awake pondering the words of the

  strange Frenchman from the Surete who could not

  speak officially. She had been tempted to tell him

  the truth but knew she would not, not yet, perhaps

  not at all, for the possibility of a trap was

  considerable revelations based on truth could too

  easily be employed to corner the hunted. Still, his

  plea had the ring of truth, his own truth, not

  someone else's: "Call and say you are from the

  Tatiana family. That is my wish and my reward."

  Joel would have an opinion. If the man was not

  simply bait put out by Aquitaine, it was a crack in

  their strategy the generals knew nothing about. She

  hoped he was his own man, but to trust him at this

  point was impossible.

  She had read the domestic schedules provided by

  Air France on the plane from Los Angeles and knew

  the routing she would take to Chamonix. Air

  Touraine had four flights daily to Annecy, the

  nearest airport to Chamonix and Mont Blanc. She

  had hoped to make a reservation on the 7:00 A.M.

  flight last night but the sudden, unnerving intrusion

  of Prudhomme had ruled it out, and by the time she

  called Touraine from the Pont Royal there were no

  seats it was summer and Mont Blanc was a tourist

  attraction. Nevertheless, she was on standby for the

  eleven o'clock flight. It was better to be at Orly

  Airport, better to be in the crowds, as Joel insisted.

  She took the open, brass-grilled elevator down to

  the lobby, paid her bill, and asked for a taxi.

  "A queue heure, madameF"

  "Maintenant, s'il vous plait. "

  "Dans quelques minutes."

  "Merci. "

  The taxi arrived and Val went outside, greeted by

  a surly sleepy-eyed driver who had no intention of

  getting out of the

  582 ROBERT LUDIUM

  cab to help her m and was only vaguely willing to

  accept her patronage.

  "Orly, s'il vous plaint."

  The driver started up, reached the corner and

  swung his wheel to the left to make a rapid U-turn

  so as to head back into the Raspail toward the

  expressway leading to the airport. The intersection

  appeared to be deserted. It was not.

  The crash behind them was close by and

  sudden metal striking metal as glass shattered and

  tires screeched. The driver slammed on his brakes,

  screaming in shock and fear as the taxi veered into

  the curb. Val was thrown against the front seat, her

  knees scraping the floor. Awkwardly she started to

  get up as the driver leaped from the cab yelling at

  the offending parties behind.

  Suddenly the right rear door opened and the

  lined, weary face of Prudhomme was above her, a

  trickle of blood rolling down from a gash in his

  forehead. He spoke quickly, quietly. "Go,

  madame wherever it is you go. No one will follow

  you now."

  "You9. . . You've been here al
l night! You were

  waiting for me, watching. It was you who crashed

  into that car!"

  "There is no time. I will send your driver back.

  I must make out my tedious report while scattering

  a few items in the man's car, and you must leave.

  Now before others

  ' That namer" cried Val. "It was Tatiana?"

  "Thank your"

  "Au revoir. Tonne chance." The man from the

  SGrete ducked away and ran back to the two

  Frenchmen shouting at each other behind the taxi.

  It was three-twenty in the afternoon when

  Converse saw the sign: SAINT-JULlEN EN

  CENEVOlS 15 KM. He had rounded the border

  of Switzerland, the autoroute to Chamonix directly

  ahead, east of Geneva, just south of Annemasse. He

  would reach Mont Blanc in something over an hour;

  he had done it! He had also driven as he had never

  before driven in his life, the powerful Citroen

  responding to his pilot's touch, his pilot's mind

  oblivious to everything but the sweep in front of

  him, the equipment around him the feel of the

  hard road beneath as he took the Alpine curves. He

  had stopped to refuel once at Pontarlier, where he

  drank steaming

  THE AOUITAINE PROGRESSION 583

  hot tea from a vending machine. Since he had left

  the expressway for the shorter distance of the

  mountain roads, his speed depended on his every

  reaction being instantaneous and accurate. An hour

  now. Be there, Val. Be there, my loved

  Valerie looked at her watch ready to scream~s

  she had wanted to scream since six-thirty in the

  morning at Orly Airport. It was four-ten in the

  afternoon, and the entire day had been filled with