Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt

by The Parcifal Mosaic [lit]

  fore?"

  "You think I don't know my tracers?" countered Baylor angrily, defensively.

  "I think we'd better talk."

  "Come on in, then," said the colonel.

  "Tbaes another thing," replied Ogilvie. "The embassys out..

  "Why?"

  'Among other things, he could be in a window across the street."

  "W"

  THE PARSIFAL MOSAIC113

  'He knows I'd never show up in-territory. KGB cameras operate around the

  clock, aimed at every entrance."

  "He doesn't even know you~re coming," protested Baylor. "Or who you are."

  "He will when you tell him."

  "A name, please?" said the army officer testily. "Apache'll do for now."

  'nat'll mean something to him?" "it win."

  'It doesn~t to me."

  "ies not supposed to."

  "Were definitely not going to get along." "Sorry about that."

  "Since you won't come in, where do we meet?" 'The Borghese. in the gardens.

  III find you."

  "That'll he easier than my finding you."

  'You~re wrong, Baylor."

  "About that?"

  'No. I think we will get along." Ogilvie paused briefly. "Make it two hours

  from now. Our target may try to reach you by then."

  "Two hours."

  "And, Baylor?" "What?"

  "Call off those duck-fucking tracers, buddy~"

  The month of March was not kind to the Borghese. The chill of the Roman

  winter, mild as the winter was, still lingered, inhibiting the budding of

  flowers and the full explosion of the gardens that in spring and summer

  formed rows and circles of dazzling colors. The myriad paths that led

  through the tall pines toward the great museum seemed just a little dirty,

  the green of the pine trees tired, dormant. Even the benches that lined the

  narrow foot roads were layered with dust. A transparent fihn bad descended

  over the park that was the Villa Borgbese; it would disappear with the April

  rains, but for now the lifelessness of March remained.

  Ogilvie stood by the thick trunk of an oak tree on the border of the

  gardens behind the museum. It was too early for any but a few students and

  fewer tourists; a scattering of these strolled along the paths waiting for

  the guards to open the doors that led to the Casino Borghese's treasures.

  The

  114 ROBERT LUDLUM

  former fleld man, now in the fleld again, looked at his watch, wrinkles of

  annoyance spreading across his deeply lined face. It was nearly twenty

  minutes to nine; the army intelligence officer was over a half hour late.

  Ogilvie's irritation was directed as much at himself as toward Baylor. In

  his haste to veto his going to the embassy as well as making it clear that

  he was the control and no one else, he had chosen a poor rendezvous and he

  knew it. So would the colonel, if he thought about it; perhaps he had,

  perhaps that was why he was late. The Borghese at this hour was too quiet,

  too remote, with far too many shadowed recesses from which those who might

  follow either of them could observe their every move, every word, visually

  and electronically. Ogilvie silently swore at himself; it was no way to

  initiate his authority. The attach6-conduit had probably taken a circuitous,

  ebange-ofvehicle route, employing frequency scanners in hopes of exposing

  and thus losing presumed surveillance. KGB cameras were trained on the

  embassy; the colonel had been put in a difficult situation thanks to an

  abrasive source from Washington enigmatically called Apache. A cover from

  the back of a cereal box.

  The enigma was there, but not the foolishness, not the cereal box. Seven

  years ago in Istanbul two undercover field men, code names Apache and

  Navajo, nearly lost their lives trying to prevent a KGB assassination on

  the Mesrutiyet. They had failed, and in the process Navajo had been cor-

  nered on the deserted Ataturk at four o'clock in the morning, KGB killer

  teams at both entrances. It was a total-loss situation until Apache sped

  across the bridge in a stolen car, screeching to a stop by the pedestrian

  alley, shouting at his associate to climb in or get his bead blown off.

  Ogilvie had then raced through a fusillade of gunfire, receiving a graze

  wound at his temple and two bullets in his right hand while breaking

  through the thunderous early-morning barricade. The man called Navajo seven

  years ago would not readily

  0 A ache hhimba Havewoul~_ ave

  ry,

  anc was held up

  0

  tm mo d on a

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  m'stanb 0 e t

  S P hind him He turned a bla kd

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  in fr0n of e b ac face e~ond the hand m b le,

  ey s an t ylor- h ad

  ad Baho k his e

  his b

  ly de . d I . y sta g at s

  twi mgmg fintIf sen

  sh e bm exger 0

  slowly spboof them behind th

  mom eranullin Ot ofm t

  , moving closer andd pulling bb hthe behind he

  THE PAmwAL MosAic 115

  tree trunk and the foliage, the army officer gestured toward the south

  garden, at the rear entrance of the stone museum. About forty yards away a

  man in a dark suit was glancing about, his expression indecisive, as he

  moved first in one direction, then in another, unable to choose a path. In

  the distance there were three rapid blasts of a high-pitched automobile bom,

  followed by the gunning of an engine. Startled, the man stopped, then broke

  into a run toward the direction of the intruding sounds and disappeared

  beyond the east wall of the Borghese.

  'T'his is one dumb location," said the colonel, checking his watch.

  "That horn was yoursP" asked Ogilvie.

  "Ies parked by the Veneto gates. It was near enough to be heard; that was

  all that mattered."

  "Sorry," said the former field man quietly. "Ies been a long time. I donI

  usually make mistakes like this. The Borghese was always crowded."

  "No sweat. And rm not sure it was a mistake."

  "Let the needle out. Don't stick me with kindness."

  'You're not reading me. Your feelings aren't any concern of mine. rve never

  been put under KGB surveillance beforenot that I know of. Why now?"

  Ogilvie smiled; he was the control, after all. "You put out the tracers. I

  think I mentioned that."

  The black officer was silent, his dark eyes aware. "Then rm finished in

  Rome," he said finally.

  "Maybe."

  'No maybe. I'm finished, anyway. It's why irm late."

  "He reached you." The red-haired agent made the statement softly.

  'With full artillery and rm the first wholl be exposed. He picked up the

  Karas womads trail and followed her to the port of Civitavecchia, where she

  got out. He won't say how or on what ship. It was a trap; he waded through

  and reversed it, targeting the man responsible-a small-time operator on the

  docks. Havelock broke him, and what he learnedwhat he thinks he leamed-has

  tamed him into a stockpile of nitro."

  "What is itr

  "Double programming. Same tactic supposedly employed with him. She was

  sandbagged against him by us."

  116 RoBERT LuDLum

  "HowP"

  "By someone
convincing her he'd gone over to the Soviets, that he was going

  to kill her."

  "rhaes a crock of shit."

  Tin only repeating what he said-what he was told. All things considered,

  ies not without logic. It would explain a lot. The KGB's got some pretty

  fair actors; they could have put on a performance for her. It's sound

  strategy. Ws out and she's running. A productive team neutralized."

  "I mean the whole thing's a crock of shit," countered Ogilvie. "Tbere is no

  jenna Karas; she died on a beach called Montebello on the Costa Brava. And

  she was KGB-a deepcover VKR field officer. No n-dstakes were made, but even

  that doesn't matter now. The main point is sb6s dead."

  "He doesn't believe it, when you talk to him you may not, either. rm not

  sure I do."

  "Havelock believes what he wants to believe, what he has to believe. rve

  heard the medical terms, and reduced to our language, Vs gone over the

  edge. He crosses back and forth between what is and what isnt, but

  fundamentally he!s gone.

  "He's damned convincing."

  "Because he's not lying. That's part of it. He saw what he saw."

  "That's what be says."

  "But he couldn't have; that's also part of it. His vision's distorted. When

  he goes over, he doesnI see with his eyes, only his head, and that's

  damaged."

  '-You~re convincing too."

  "Because rm not lying and my head's not damaged." Ogilvie reached into his

  pocket for a pack of cigarettes. He extracted one and lit it with an old,

  tarnished Zippo purchased a quarter of a century ago. Those are the facts,

  Colonel. You can fIll in the blank spaces, but the bottom line's fimL

  Havelock's got to be taken."

  'rhat wonI be so easy. He may be running around in his own foggy tunnels,

  but Vs not an amateur. He may not know where he's going, but he's survived

  in the field for sixteen years. He's smart, defensive."

  "We're aware of that. Ies the reality part. You told him I was here, didn't

  you?"

  THE PARSTFAL MOSMC117

  'I told him a man named Apache was here." The army officer paused.

  "Well?"

  He didn't like it. Why you?-

  "Why not me?"

  "I doet know. Maybe he doesn't like you."

  "He owes me."

  "Maybe that's your answer."

  "What are you, a psychologist? Or a lawyerr

  "A little of both," said the colonel. "Constantly. Aren't You?"

  "Right now rm just annoyed. What the bell are you driving at?"

  "Havelocles reaction to you was very quick, very vocal. So they sent the

  Gunslinger,' he said. Is that your other name?'

  "Kid stuff. A bad joke."

  "He didn't sound amused. He's going to call at noon with Instructions for

  you."

  "At the embassy?"

  "No. Im to take a room at the Excelsior. You're to be there with me; you're

  to get on the phone."

  "Son of a bitchl" Ogilvie sucked breath through his teeth.

  "That's a problem?"

  "He knows where I am but I don't know where he is. He can watch me but I

  can7t watch him."

  "What difference does it make? He's obviously willing to meet you. In order

  to take him, you've got to meet with him."

  "Yoere the new boy on the block, Colonel, no offense intended. He's forcing

  my hand at the top."

  'How so?"

  "III need two men-Italians, preferably, as Inconspicuous as possible-to

  follow me when I leave the hotel."

  Why?-

  "Because be could take me," said the former field man reflectively. "From

  behind. On any crowded sidewalk. There isn!t a jump be doesn't know... A

  man collapses In the street, a friend helps him to a nearby car. Both

  Americans, nothing out of the ordinary."

  "That presumes I won't be with you. Still, rm the conduit. I could make a

  case for my being there."

  118 ROBErm Lumum

  'Deflnitely the new bay; bed bead for Cairo. And if you tried to keep me In

  sight, I have an idea he'd spot you. No--2*

  "Offense intended.... There are drawbacks.... I'll get you your cover." The

  offleer paused again, then continued, "But not two men. I think a couple

  would be better~"

  "Thaesgood. You~ve got possibilities, Colonel."

  "rve also got a recommendation to make that I'll deny if les ever ascribed

  to me. And considering that sobriquet Gunslinger, I don't think Id have any

  difficulty saying I heard it from you.

  "I can't wait to bear it myself."

  "Irm responsible for a large territory in this area of operations. The work

  I do for the Pentagon and State gets cornpounded; iesunavoidable. I need a

  favor, or someone needs one from us, so the circle quietly grows bigger,

  even if weve never met each other.*

  "I hate to repeat myself," interrupted Ogilvie, "but what the hell are you

  driving at nowP"

  "I have a lot of friends out there. Men and women who trust me, trust my

  office. If I have to go, Id like the office to remain intact, of course,

  but there's something more basic. I don't want those friends-known and

  unknown-to get hurt, and Havelock could hurt them. He~s worked Italy, the

  Adriatic, the Ligurian-from Trieste across the borders, along the northern

  coast all the way to Gibraltar. He could provoke reprisals. I don't think

  one messed-up retired field man is worth it."

  "Neither do V

  'flen take him out. Don't Just take him, take him ouC"

  "You could have heard that from me."

  "Do I hear it nowP"

  The man from Washington was silent for a moment; then he replied, -No."

  "Why notP"

  'Because the act could bring about the consequences you don~t want."

  "Impossible. He basnt had time."

  "You don~t know that. If this thing's been growing since Costa Brava, there

  I s no way to tell what deposits he's made or where he's made them. He

  could have left documents in half a dozen countries with specific

  instructions to release them if scheduled contacts are missed. During the

  last six

  THE PARSEFAL MOSAIC119

  weeks be's been in London, Amsterdam, Paris, Athens and Rome. Why? Why those

  places? With the whole world to choose from, and with money in his pocket,

  he returns to the cities where he operated extensively under cover. It could

  be a pattern."

  "Or coincidence. He knew them. He was out; he felt safe."

  "Maybe, maybe not."

  "I donI follow the logic. If you simply take him, he still won't make those

  contacts."

  "There are ways.'

  'Me clinics, I assume. Laboratories where doctors inject serums that loosen

  tongues and minds?"

  "That!s right."

  'And I think you!re wrong. I don't know whether he saw the Karas woman or

  not, but whatever be saw-whatever happened-happened during the past

  twenty-four hours. He hasn't had time to do a goddonned thing. He may tell

  you he has, but he haset."

  "Is that an opinion, or are you clairvoyant?-

  "Neither. Ies fact. I listened to a man in shock. A man who!d just gone

  through a mind-blowing experience-his phrase, incidentally. It wasn't the

  result of a festering mental aberration; it had j
ust happened. When you

  talk about what he could have done, the deposits he could have made, you're

  using the words I gave you because they're the words be said to me. He was

  speculating an what he inight do, not what he did. There's a hell of

  difference, Mr. Strategist."

  "And because of it you want him dead?"

  'I want a lot of other people to live."

  "So do we. Thaes why rm here."

  "So you can bring him back alive," said Baylor sardonically. "Just like

  Frank Buck."

  ~Ihat'll do."

  "No, it wont. Suppose you n-Ass? Suppose he gets away?"

  "It wodt happen."

  "Opinion or clairvoyance?"

  "Fact."

  "No way. Ies conjecture, a probability factor I don't want to count on."

  "You don~t have a choice, soldier. The chain of command has spoken."

  "Then let me spell it out foj~.you, civilian. Don't talk to me

  120 RoBERT LUDLUM

  about chains of command. Ive worked my black ass off In this white mart's

  army-white at the top, black at the bottom-until they had to make me a vital

  cog in the big white wheel. Now you come along with your secret-agent act,

  and a code name right out of-"

  "The back of a cereal box?" interjected Ogilvie.

  'You got it A cereal box. No name I can point tD, no Identification I can

  bargain with to get me off the hook, just a balloon from a comic strip. And

  if you do miss, and Havelock does get away, I'm on the firing line-as the

  target. Coffee-Face blew it; his network's comprontised. Take him out of

  the big white wheel."

  'You hypocritical bastard," said the man from Washington In disgust. "The

  only thing youre interested in saving is your own skin."

  "For a lot of reasons too benigri for you to understand. There're going to

  be more like me, not less.... Wherever you go in this town, I'm not far

  behind. You take him your way, that's fine with me. Ill get'you back to

  Palombara and strap the two of you into a jet myself with a letter of

  recommendation written in classical Latin. But if you can7t hack it, and he

  breaks, he goes down my way."

  "That doesn't sound like the man who believed his story, who pleaded his

  case."

  "I didn't plead his case, I reported it. And it doesnt make any difference

  whether I believe him or not. He's an active, dangerous threat to me and my

  function here in Rome and a large part of the network I've cultivated on