Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt
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followed being the most logical one from the Louvre. He knew it was
important not to deviate, not to let whoever it was behind hixn think he
suspected his or her presence. He had spotted the taxi, the same taxi, as it
made two swift turns in tr~C to keep him in sight. Whoever was directing the
driver was good; the tald had stopped for less than two or three seconds at
a comer, and then bad sped away in the opposite direction. Which meant that
whoever was following him was now on foot on the crowded bridge. If contact
was the objective, crowds were helpful, and a bridge even more so. People
stopped on bridges over the Seine simply to stare absently down at the
water; they had been doing so for centuries. Conversations could be had
unobtrusively. If contact was the objective, and not surveillance alone.
Michael stopped, leaned against the cbest-bigb stone wall that served as a
railing, and lighted a cigarette, his eyes on a bateau mouche about to pass
under the bridge. That is to say, if anyone was watching him, it would seem
as if he were looking at the tourist boat, waving casually at the
passengers below. But he was not; pretending to shield his eyes from
THE PARS17AL MOSAIC19
the sun, be concentrated on the tall figure approaching on his right.
He could distinguish the gray homburg, the velvet-collared overcoat, and
the glistening black patent-leather shoes; they were enough. The man was
the essence of Parisian wealth and elegance, traveling all over Europe and
gracing the salons of the rich. His name was Gravet, and he was considered
the most knowledgeable critic of classical art in Paris-which meant the
Continent-and only those who had to know knew be also sold far more than
his critical expertise. He stopped at the railing seven feet to the right
of Havelock and adjusted his velvet collar; he spoke just loud enough to be
beard. "I thought it was you. rve been followIng you since the Rue
Bernard."
"I know. What do you want?"
"ne question is, What do you want? Why are you In Paris? We were given to
understand you were no longer active. Quite frankly, you were to be
avoided."
"And reported immediately if I made contact, right?"
"Naturally."
"But you're reversing the process. You!ve approached me. That!s a little
foolish, isn't it?-
"A minor risk worth taking," said Gravet, standing erect and glancing
about. "We go back a long time, Michael. I don't for a moment believe
you~re in Paris for your cultural rebirth."
"Neither do 1. Who said I was?"
'You were at the Louvre for exactly twenty-seven minutes. Too short a time
to absorb anything, and too long to relieve yourself. But quite plausible
for meeting someone inside a dark, crowded exhibit-say, at the far end of
the third floor."
Havelock began to laugh. "Listen, Gravet-"
"Don't look at me, pleasel Keep your eyes on the water."
"I went to the Roman collection on the mezzanine. It was filled. with a
tour from Provence, so I left."
"You were always quick, I admired you for it. And now this ominous alarm:
'Hes no longer active. Avoid him."'
"It happens to be true."
"Whatever this new cover of yours," continued Gravet quickly, dusting the
elbows of his coat, "for it to be so radical can only mean yoiere among
very distinguished company.
20RoBLRT LUDLUM
I'm also a broker with a wide range of information. The more distinguished
my clients I the better I like it."
"Sorry, I'm not buying. Avoid me."
"Don't be preposterous. You don't know what I have to offer. Incredible
things are happening everywhere. Allies become enemies, enemies allies. The
Persian Gulf is on fire and all Africa moves in contradictory circles; the
Warsaw bloc has lacerations you know nothing about, and Washington pursues
a dozen counterproductive strategies matched only b~ the unbelievable
stupidity of the Soviets. I could give you cl apter and verse on their
recent follies. Don't dismiss me, Michael. Pay me. You'll climb even
higher."
~ "Why should I want to climb higher when Ive climbed out?"
"Again preposterous. You're a relatively young man; they wouldn't let you
go."
"They can watch me, but they can~t hold me. All I had to do was give up a
pension somewhere down the road."
"Too simple. You all have bank accounts in remote but accessible places,
everyone knows that. Diverted contingency funds, covert payments made to
nonexistent sources, fees for sudden departures or suddenly required
papers. You had your retirement covered by the time you were thirty-five."
"You're exaggerating both my talents and my financial security," said
Havelock, smiling.
"Or perhaps a rather lengthy document," the Frenchman went on, as though
Michael had not interrupted, "detailing certain covert
procedures-solutions, you might say-tbat must, perforce, describe specific
events and personnel. Placed beyond reach of those most interested."
Havelock stopped smiling, but Gravet persisted:
aturally, that's not financial security, but it adds to a sense
well-being, doesn't it?"
"You're wasting your time, Irm not in the market. If you've got something
of value, you'll get your price. You know whom to deal with."
"They're frightened second-raters. None of them has your direct avenues to
the-centers of determination, shall we say."
"I don't have them anymore."
"I don't believe you. You're the only man here in Europe who talks directly
with Anthony Matthias."
"Leave him out of it. And for your information, I haven't
THE PAILSWAL MOSAIC21
spoken with him in months." Suddenly Havelock stood up and turned openly to
the Frenchman. "Let!s find a taid and go to the embassy. I know some people
over there. IT introduce you to a first-level attacb6 and tell him yotfre
selling but I don't have either the resources or the interest to get in-
volved. Okay?'
"You know I can't do thatl And, please---" Gravet did not have to finish
the request.
"All right, all right." Michael returned to the wan with the river below.
"Then give me a number or a place of contacL in phone it in and you can
listen."
"Why are you doing this? Why the charade?'
Because it's not a charade. As you said, we go back a long time. I'll do
you the favor and maybe you'll be convinced. Maybe you'll convince others,
if they ask. Even if they don't ask. How about it?'
. The Frenchman turned his head while leaning over the wall and stared at
Havelock. "No, thank you, Michael. As with all manner of Satans, better a
second-rater rve dealt with than one I haven7t. For what Ws worth , I think
I believe you. You would not reveal a source like me, even to a first-level
attacb6. rm down too deep, too respectable; you might need me. Yes, I do
believe you."
"Make my life easier. Doet keep it a secret."
"What about your opposite numbers in the KGB? Win they be convinced?"
"rm sure of it. Their moles probably got word to Dzerzhinsky Square bef
ore
I signed the separation papers."
"They'll suspect a ploy."
"All the more reason to leave me alone. Why bite into poisoned bait?"
"They have chemicals. You all have chemicals."
"I can't tell them anything they don't know, and what I do know has already
been changed. That's the funny thing: my enemies have nothing to fear from
me. The few names they might learn aren't worth the price. There'd be
reprisals."
"Yoteve inflicted a great many wounds. Theres pride, vengeance; it's the
human condition."
"Not applicable. In those areas we're even, and again rm not worth it
because there's no practical result. Nobody kills unless there's a reason.
None of us wants to be responsible for the fallout. Crazy, isn't it? Almost
Victorian. When we're
22 ROBEnT LuDLum
finished, we're out. Maybe we'll all get together in a large black strategy
room in hell and have a few drinks, but while we're here, we're out. That's
the irony, the futility, Gravet. When we're out we don't care anymore. We
don't have any reason to hate. Or to kill."
"Nicely phrased, my friend. Yotfve obviously thought about these things."
"rve had a lot of time recently."
"And there are those who are extremely interested in your recent
observations, your conclusions-your role in life, as it were. But then, les
to be expected. They're such a manicdepressive people. Morose, then
jubilant; filled with violence one minute, songs of the earth and sadness
the next. And often quite paranoid; the darker aspects of classicism, I
think. The slashing diagonals of Delacroix in a multiracial national
psyche, so far-reaching, so contradictory. So suspicious-so Soviet."
Havelock stopped breathing; he returned Gravees stare. "Why did you do it?'
"There was no harm. Had I learned otherwise, who knows what I would have
told them? But since I do believe you, I explain why I had to test you."
"Moscow thinks I'm still in?"
"I shall render the judgment that you are not. Whether they accept it or
not is another matter."
"Why won't they?" asked Havelock, his eyes on the water below.
"I have no idea. I shall miss you, Michael. You were always civilized.
Difficult but civilized. Then again, you're not a native-born American, are
you? Yo&re really European."
"rm American," said Havelock quietly. "Really."
"Yoeve done well by America, I'll say that. If you change your mind-or it's
changed for you-get in touch with me. We can always do business."
"It's not likely, but thanks."
"That's not an outright rejection, either.'
"rm being polite."
'Civilized. Au revoir, Mikhail.... I prefer the name you were born with."
Havelock turned his head slowly and watched Gravet walk with studied grace
down the pavement of the Pont Royal
THE PARSIFAL MOSAIC23
toward the entrance of the bridge. The Frenchman had accepted a blind
interrogation from people he found loathsome; be must have been paid very
well. But why?
The CIA was in Amsterdam and the CIA did not believe him. The KGB was in
Paris and the KGB did not believe him, either. why?
So much for Paris. How far would they go to keep him under a microscope?
The Arethusa Delphi was one of those small hotels near the Syntagma Square
in Athens that never let the traveler forget he is in Greece. The rooms were
white on white on shimmering white. Walls, furniture and space-dividing
ornamental beads were relieved only by garish plastio-framed oil paintings
depicting the antiquities: temples, agoras and oracles romanticized by
postcard artists. Each room had a pair of narrow double doors that opened
onto a miniature balcony~-large enough for two small chairs and a
Lilliputian tabl&-on which guests could have black morning coffee.
Throughout the lobby and in the elevators one never escaped the rhythmic
pounding of Greek folk music, strings and cymbals at prestissinto greco.
Havelock led the olive-skinned woman out of the elevator, and as the doors
closed, both stood for a moment in mock anticipation. The music was gone;
they sighed in relief.
Lorba took a break." Michael gestured to the left toward his room.
"The rest of the world must think we are nervous wrecks," said the woman,
laughing, touching her dark hair and smoothing out the long white dress
that complemented her Skin and accentuated her breasts and tapered body.
Her English was heavily accented, cultivated on those Mediterranean islands
that are the playgrounds of the Mediterranean rich. She was a high-priced
courtesan whose favors were sought after by the princes of commerce and
inheritance, a good-natured whore with a decent wit and a quick laugh, a
woman who knew her time of pleasure- ing was limited. "You rescued me, .
she said , squeezing giv' g '
Havelocles arm as they walked down the corridor.
"I kidnapped you."
'Often interchangeable terms," she replied, laughing again.
It had been a little of both. Michael had run across a man
24ROBE]RT LuDLum
on the Marathonos with whom he had worked in the Thermaikos sector five
years ago. A dinner party was being held that night at a caf6 on Syntagma
Square; since it was convenient, Havelock accepted the invitation. The woman
was there, the escort of a considerably older, boorish businessman. The ouzo
and the prestissimo greco bad done its damage. Havelock and the woman had
been seated next to each other; legs and hands touched, they exchanged
looks: comparisons were obvious. Michael and the island courtesan had
slipped away.
"I think I'm going to face an angry Athenian tomorrow," said Havelock,
opening the door of his room, leading the woman inside.
"Don't be silly," she protested. "He's not a gentleman. Hes from Epidaurus;
there are no gentlemen in Epidaurus. He's an aging bull of a peasant who
made money under the colonels. One of the nastier consequences of their
regime."
"When in Athens," said Michael, going to the bureau where there was a
bottle of prized Scotch and glasses, "stay away from Epidaurians." He
poured drinks.
"Have you been to Athens often?"
"A few times."
"What did you do? What line of work?"
"I bought things. Sold things." Havelock carried the drinks back across the
room. What he saw was what he wanted to see, although he had not expected
to see it so quickly. The woman had removed her thin silk cape and draped
it on a chair. She then proceeded to unbutton her gown from the top, the
swelling of her breasts provocative, inviting.
"You didn't buy me," she said, taking the drink with her free hand. "I came
of my own free will. Etharbtou, Michael Havelock. Do I say your name
right?"
"Very nicely."
She touched his glass with hers, the sound gentle as she stepped closer.
She reached up and placed her fingers on his lips, then his cheek, and
finally around the back of his neck, drawing his face to hers. They kissed,
her -lips parting, the soft swollen flesh and moisture of her mouth
arousing him; s
he pressed her body against his, pulling his left hand to
the breast beneath her half-open gown. She leaned back, breathing deeply.
'Where Is your bathroom? I'll get into somethlng-lem*
THE PARSTFAL MOSAIC25
"Over there."
"Why don~t you? Get into something less, that is. Well meet at the bed. I'm
really rather anxious. Yoere very, very attractive, and rm-very anxious."
She picked up her cape from the chair and walked casually, sensually toward
the door beyond the bed. She went inside, glancing back over her shoulder,
her eyes telling him things that probably were not true, but were
nevertheless exciting for the night. The practiced whore, whatever her rea-
sons were, would perform, and he wanted, needed, the release of that
performance.
Michael stripped himself down to his shorts ' carried his drink to the bed,
and tore away the spread and the blanket. He climbed under the sheet and
reached for a cigarette, turning his body away from the wall.
"Dobriy oyehchyer, priyatel."
At the sound of the deep male voice, Havelock spun around on the bed,
instinctively reaching for a weapon-a weapon that was not there. Standing
in the frame of the bathroom door was a balding man whose face Michael
recognized from dozens of photographs going back years. He was from Moscow,
one of the most powerful men in the Soviet KGB. In his hand was a gun, a
large, black Graz-Burya auto-
matic. There was a click; the hammer snapped into firing position.
3
"You may leave now," said the Russian to the woman concealed behind him. She
slid past, glancing at Havelock, then rushed to the door and let herself
out.
OYou!re Rostov. Pyotr Rostov. Director of External Strato. gies. KGB.
Moscow."
"Your face and name are also known to me. And your dossier."
"You went to a lot of trouble, priyatel," said Michael, using the Russian
word for friend, its meaning, however, denied by his cold delivery. He
shook his head, trying to clear it of a sickening mist, the effect of the
ouzo and Scotch. "You could have stopped me on the street and invited me
for a drink. You wouldn't have learned any more or any less, and very
little thaes valuable. Unless this is a kazn gailah.7
"No execution, Havlf&k."