Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt

by The Parcifal Mosaic [lit]

  scores to settle.' Especially if he's given some time to stew, to get worked

  up."

  "What I saw was in her eyesl But even if you won't accept that, there's

  something else; it voids the strategy, and every point can be checked. Two

  hours ago I diddt know I'd be inside that station; ten minutes before I saw

  her I didn't know I'd be on that platform, and neither could anyone else.

  I came here yesterday and took a room in a pensione on the Due Macelli for

  a week, paid in advance. At eight-thirty tonight I saw a poster in a window

  and decided to go to Venice. I didn't speak to anyone." Michael reached

  into his pocket, took out his ticket for the Freccia deUa Uguna and placed

  it in front of Lawrence Baylor. "The Freccia was scheduled to leave at

  nine-thirty-five. The time of purchase is stamped across the top of this.

  Read itl"

  '11wenty-one, twenty-seven," said the army officer, reading. "Twenty-seven

  past nine. Eight minutes before the brain left

  "All veriGable. Now look at me and tell me I'm lying. And while yodre at

  it, explain how that setup could have been mounted given the time span and

  the fact that she was on an incoming traint-

  "I cant. If she-"

  "She was talking to a conductor seconds before she got off. rm sure I can

  find him."

  Baylor was silent again; he stared at Havelock, then spoke softly. "Don't

  bother. I'll send the flag." He paused, adding, "Along with qualified

  support. Whatever you saw, you!re not lying. Where can I reach you?"

  "Sorry. IT reach you."

  "They'll want to talk to you, probably in a hurry.'"

  M be in touch."

  "Why the static?"

  "Something Rostov said in Athens."

  "Rostov? Pyotr Rostov?" The colonel's eyes widened. 'You don't go much

  higher in the Dzerzhinsky."

  Theres higher.- TnE PAnsrFAL MosAic51

  "Hell do. What did he say? What did he tell you?"

  "That our nostrils never quite adjust. Instead, they develop a kind of

  sensitivity-to variations of the basic rotten smell. Like animals."

  "I expected something less abstract:' said Baylor, annoyed.

  "Really? From where I stand, it sounds concrete as bell. The Costa Brava

  trap was engineered in Washington, the evidence compiled by the inner shell

  in one of those white, sterile offices on the top floor of State."

  "I understood you were in control," interrupted Baylor.

  "The last phase. I insisted on it."

  "Then you-"

  "I acted on everything that was given to me. And now I want to know why it

  was given to me. Why I saw what I did tonight."

  "If you saw-2'

  "Shes alive. I want to know wbyl Howl"

  "I still don't understand."

  "Costa Brava was meant for me. Someone wanted me out. Not dead, but out.

  Comfortably removed from those temptations that often afflict men like me."

  "Scores to settle?" asked the colonel. "The Agee syndrome? The Snepp

  complex? I di(Wt know you were infected."

  "rve had my quota of shocks, my share of questions. Someone wanted those

  questions buried and she went along. Why?"

  "Two assumptions I'm not willing to concede are facts. And if you intend to

  bare a few shocks not in the national interest, I imagine-and I'm speaking

  hypothetically in the extreme, of course-there are other methods of ...

  burying them."

  "Dispatch? Call me dead?"

  "I didn't say we'd kill you. We don't live in that kind of country." The

  colonel paused, then added, "On the other hand, why not?"

  "For the same reason others haven't met with odd accidents that prearranged

  pathologists n-dght label something else. Self-protection is ingrained in

  our job, brother. Ies another syndrome; it's called the Nuremberg. Those

  shocks, instead of being buried, might surface. Sealed depositions to be

  opened by unnamed attorneys in the event of questionable et ceteras."

  52 RoBzRT Luixum

  "Jesm, you said that? You went that far?"

  "Strangely enough, I never did. Not seriously. I simply got angry. The rest

  was assumed."

  "What kind of world do you people live in?"

  "The same one you do-only, we've been around a little longer, a little

  deeper. And that's why I won't tell you where you can reach me. My nostrils

  have picked up a sickening odor from the Potomac." Havelock leaned forward,

  his voice harsh, low, nearly a whisper again. "I know that girl. For her to

  do what she did, something had to have been done to her, held over her.

  Something obscene. I want to know what it was and why."

  "Assuming-2' Baylor began slowly, 'assuming you're right, and I don't for

  an instant concede that you are, what makes you think they'll tell you?"

  "It was all so sudden," said Michael, leaning back, his body rigid, his

  voice now floating as if in a painful dream. "It was a Tuesday and we were

  in Barcelona. We'd been there for a week; something was going to happen in

  the sector, thaes all Washington told us. Then word came from Madrid: a

  Four Zero communication had been flown in by courier, contents restricted

  to the embassy, Eyes Only. Mine only. There's no Cons Op station in Madrid,

  no one cleared to relay the information, so I flew in Wednesday morning,

  signed for that goddamned steel container, and opened it in a room guarded

  by three marines. Everything was there, everything she'd done, all the

  information she'd transmitted-information she could have gotten only from

  me. The trap was theze, too, myself in control if I so wished-and I so

  wished. They knew it was the only way I'd be convinced. On Friday I was

  back in Barcelona, and by Sunday it was over . . . and I was convinced.

  Five days and the walls came tumbling down. No trumpets, just flashlights

  and screams and loud ugly noises intruding on the surf. Five days ... so

  sudden, so swift, everything at a crescendo. It was the only way it could

  have been done."

  'You havenI answered my question," Baylor interrupted quietly. "If you~re

  right, what makes you think they'll tell you?"

  Havelock leveled his eyes at the soldier. "Because they're afraid. It comes

  down to the why. The questions, the shocks; which one was it?"

  THE PARSTFAL MOSAIC53

  "What are you talking about?"

  'Me decision to remove me wasnt made gradually, Colonel. Something

  triggered it. They don't force a man out the way I was forced out because

  of accumulated differences. Talent's expensive; proven field talent too

  difficult to replace. Accommodations can be made, explanations offered,

  agreements reached. All these are tried before they let the talent go. But

  no one tried with me."

  "Can you be more specific?" the officer pressed, again annoyed.

  "I wish I could be. It's something I know, or they think I know. Something

  I could have written down. And ies a bomb."

  "Do you?' Baylor asked coldly, professionally. "Have such a piece of

  information?'

  "I'll find it", replied Havelock, suddenly pushing back his chair, prepared

  to leave. "You tell them that. Just as I'll find her, tell them that, too.

  It won't be easy because shcN not with them anymore. She got away; shes

 
; gone under. I also saw that in her eyes. But IT find her." -

  "Maybe-" Baylor said urgently, "maybe if everything you say proves out,

  they'd be willing to help."

  ney'd better be," said Michael getting to his feet, and looking down at the

  soldier-conduit. "I'll need all the help I can get. In the meantime I want

  this whole goddamned thing spelled out-chapter and verse, to quote an old

  source of mine. Because if it isn't, Im going to start telling tales out

  of school. When' and from where none of you will know, but the words will

  be there loud and clear. And somewhere among them will be that bomb.'

  "Don't do anything stupidl"

  "Don't mistake me, I don't want to. But what was done to her, to me-to

  us-just wasn1 fair, Colonel. rm back in. Solo. n1 be in touch."

  Havelock turned and walked swiftly out of the cafk into the Via Pancra~zio.

  He reached the Via Galvani on his way back to the railroad station, where he

  had deposited his newly acquired suitcase in a coin locker. Suddenly the

  painful irony struck him. it had been a suitcase in a coin locker at an

  airport in Bar-

  54 ROBERT LUDLUM

  celona that had condemned Jenna Karas. The defector from the

  Baader-Meinhof-in exchange for the quiet cancellation of a death sentence

  pronounced in absentia-had led them to it. The German terrorist bad told

  Madrid that das Frdulein Karas kept secret, updated field records within her

  reach at all times. It was a Voennaya custom dictated by the strange

  relationship the violent and clandestine branch of Soviet inteffigence had

  with the rest of the KGB. Certain field personnel on long-range deep-cover

  operations bad access to their own files in the event that their superiors

  in Moscow suddenly were not accessible. Self-protection sometimes assumed

  odd forms; no one had questioned it

  No one had questioned. Not even he.

  Someone makes contact with her and gives her a key, stating a location. A

  room or a locker, even a bank. The material is there, including new

  objectives as they are developed.

  A man had stopped her one afternoon two days before Michael left for

  Madrid. In a caf6 on the Paseo Isabel. A drunk. He had shaken her hand,

  then kissed it. Four days later Michael had found a key in Jenna's purse.

  On Sunday, two days later, she was dead.

  There had been a key, but whose key was it? He had seen photocopies

  verified by Langley of every item in that suitcase. But whose suitcase was

  it? If not hers, how did three sets of fingerprints confirmed to be hers

  get inside? And if the prints were hers, why did she permit it?

  What had they done to her? What had they done to a blond woman on the Costa

  Brava who had screamed in Czech and whose spine and neck and head had been

  pierced with bullets? What kind of people were they who could put human

  beings on strings and blow them up as calmly as one might explode

  mannequins in a horror show? That woman bad died; he had seen too much

  death to be mistaken. It was no charade, as the elegant Gravet might have

  put it.

  Yet it was all a charade. They were all puppets. But on what stage and for

  whose benefit were they performing?

  He hurried faster on the Via Galvani; the Via della Mamorata was in sight.

  He was only blocks now from the massive railroad station; be would begin

  there. At least, he had an idea; whether it made sense or not the next half

  hour would tell.

  He passed a garishly lighted newsstand where tabloids

  THE PARsiFAL MosAic55

  competed with glossy magazines. Capped teeth and outsized breasts battled

  for attention with mutilated bodies and graphic descriptions of rape and

  mayhem. And then he saw the famous face staring up at him from the cover of

  the International edition of Time. The clear eyes behind the hornrimmed

  glasses shone as they always did, full of high Intelligence-cold at first

  glance, yet somehow warmer the longer one looked at them, softened, perhaps

  by an understanding few on this earth possessed. There he was, the high

  cheekbones and the aquiline nose, the generous lips from which such

  extraordinary words poured forth.

  'A man for all seasons, all peoples." That was the simple caption beneath

  the photograph. No name, no title; none was necessary. The world knew the

  American Secretary of State, heard his reasoned, deliberate voice and

  understood. This was a man for all; be transcended borders and languages

  and national insanities. There were those who believed-and Michael was one

  of them-that either the world would listen to Anthony Matthias or it would

  be blown to hell in a mushroom cloud.

  Anton Matthias. Friend, mentor, surrogate father. Where Costa Brava was

  concerned, he, too, had been a puppet. Who would dareP

  As Havelock put several lira notes down on the counter and picked up the

  magazine, he remembered vividly the handwritten note Anton had insisted the

  strategists in Washington include with the Four Zero file flown to Madrid.

  From their few brief conversations in Georgetown, Matthias had grasped the

  depth of his feelings for the woman assigned to him for the past eight

  months. At last, perhaps, he was ready to get out and find the peace that

  had eluded him all these years. The statesman bad made gentle fun of the

  situation; when a fellow Czech past forty and in Michaers line of work

  decided to concentrate on one woman, Slavic tradition and contemporary

  fiction suffered irreparable blows.

  But there had been no such levity in Matthias's note.

  mfif mil~ synu

  The attached pains my heart as it will yours. You who suffered so much

  in the early days, and have given of yourself so brilliantly and

  selflessly to our adopted country in these later ones, must again know

  pain. I have demanded

  50ROBERT LUDLUM

  and received a complete verification of these findings. IF you wish to

  remove yourself from the scene, you may, of course, do so. Do not feel

  bound by the attached recommendations. There is only so much a nation can

  ask, and you have Fiven with honor and more- Perhaps now the angers we

  Spoke of ago, the fivies that propelled you into this terfible life,

  subsided, perrm ng you to return to another world that needs the labors

  of your mind. I pray so.

  Tvk,

  Anton M.

  Havelock forced the note from his mind; it served only to aggravate the

  incomprehensible. Verification: Positive. He opened the magazine to the

  article on Matthias. There was nothing new, merely a recap of his more

  recent accomplishments in the area of arms negotiations. It ended with the

  observation that the Secretary of State was off for a well-deserved

  vacation at an unnamed location. Michael smiled; he knew where it was. A

  cabin in the Shenandoah Valley. It was entirely possible that before the

  night was over he would use a dozen codes to reach that mountain cabin. But

  not until he found out what had happened. For Anton Matthias had been

  touched by it too.

  The crowds inside the giant dome of the Ostia had thinned out, the last of

  the trains leaving Rome having departedor being about to de
part. Havelock

  pulled his suitcase from the locker and looked around for a sign; it had to

  be somewhere. It could well be a waste of time, but he did not think so; at

  least it was a place to start. He had told the intelligence officer-attach6

  in the caf6 on the Via Pancrazio: "She was talking to a conductor seconds

  before she got off. rm sure I can find him."

  Michael reasoned that someone running did not casually strike up a

  conversation with a conductor for the sake of conviviality; too much was on

  that someone's mind. And in every city there were those sections where men

  and women who wished to disappear could do so, where cash was the only

  currency, mouths were kept shut, and hotel registries rarely reflected

  accurate identities. Jenna Karas might know the names of districts, even

  streets, but she did not-had not known-Rome itself. A city on strike might

  just possibly convince someone running that it was urgent to ask a question

  or a direction of someone who might have the answer.

  TnE PABsiFAL MosAic57

  There was the sign on the wall, an arrow pointing to the office complex:

  AMMUMTRATORE DELLA STAZON-E.

  Thirty-five minutes later, having convinced a night manager that it was

  imperative and in both his and the conductoes financial interest that the

  conductor be found, he had the address of the man assigned to cars tre,

  quattro, and cinque for the incoming train on binario trentasei at

  eight-thirty that evening. As the rail system was government service, a

  photograph was attached to the employment sheet. It was the same man he had

  seen talking to jenna Karas. Among his qualifications was a proficiency in

  English. LiveUb pritnario.

  He climbed the worn stone steps of the apartment building to the fifth

  floor, found the name "Mascolo" on the door and knocked. The red-faced

  conductor was dressed in loose trousers held up by wide suspenders over an

  undershirt His breath reeked of cheap wine, and his eyes were not entirely

  focused. Havelock took a 10,0004ire note from his pocket.

  "Who can remember one passenger among thousands?" protested the man, seated

  opposite Michael at the kitchen table.

  .rm sure you can," said Havelock, removing another bill. "Think. She was