Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt

by The Parcifal Mosaic [lit]

  patience-a sidewalk archaeologist.

  Havelock separated a torn lamp shade from a soggy bag of haIf-eaten lunch,

  and angled the small tinted mirror between them, his hands concealed by the

  filthy fabric of the shade. He could see the Russian directly above in the

  second-floor window, the man was leaning against the sill, watching the

  street, studying the pedestrians, waiting. He would stay by that window for

  a simple reason: his strike force was de-

  ployed; had a counterstrike been mounted? Michael knew him-not by name or

  reputation, or even from a photograph in a file, but he knew him, knew the

  set of the face, the look in the eyes. Havelock had been where this man had

  beenwhere he was now. The process bad been set in motion, the Word

  Cautiously put out; word was awaited back at the command Post of one. The

  lethal compromisers had been reached, none having allegiance to anything or

  anybody except the dollar, the franc, the pound and the deutsche mark.

  THE PARsrFAL Mosmc221

  A sliding scale of incentive payments had been circulated, bonuses matching

  the value of various contributions, the highest, of course, the kill with

  proof of the kill. Word and method of the targees arrival, sightings at

  specific locations, alone or with known or unknown associates, a hotel, a

  caf6, a pension, a rooming house-all had value in terms of immediate

  payment. A competition had been created among the qualified practitioners of

  violence, each professional enough to know that one did not lie to the

  command post. Todays loss was another day's kill.

  Sooner or later the man in the window would start getting his responses. A

  few would be mere speculation based on secondhand information; others would

  be honest error, which would not be penalized but analyzed for what it was.

  Then a single call would come, its authenticity established by a

  descriptive phrase or a certain reaction-unmistakably the targefs-and the

  command post would have its first breakthrough. A street, a caf6, a bench

  perhaps in a children's park on the Seine-the practitioners would have

  spread out everywhere. The hunt was on, the prize many times a yeax~s in-

  come. And when the hunt came to an end, the man in the window would come

  out of his movable prison. Yes, thought Michael, he bad been there. The

  waiting was the worst part.

  He looked at his watch, his hand buried in the refuse. There was a second

  wire trash basket down the block, on the other side of the hotel's

  entrance; he wondered if it would be necessary to go to it and continue

  foraging. He had gone past the hotel twice in a taid-projecting his

  movements on foot, calculating his timing-before he had sought out the

  used-.clothing shops In the S6verine-those and an obscure shop on the

  Sommerard where he had purchased ammunition for the Llama automatic and the

  magnum. He had phoned Gravet seven minutes ago and told him the clock was

  -on; the Frenchman would place his call from a booth in the Place Vend6me;

  the crowds would guarantee his untraceable anonymity. What was holding him

  up? There were so many possibilities. Occupied booths, out-of-order phones,

  a talkative acquaintance who insisted on prolonging a street-comer con-

  versation, all were reasonable assumptions, but whatever, Havelock knew he

  could not stay where he was any longer. Awkwardly, like an old man in

  pain-and indeed he was a not so young man in pain-he began to push himself

  up. He

  222 ROBERT LUDLUM

  would force a deliberately Unfocused eye to see what It should not see.

  The man in the window whipped his head around. An intrusiOn had interrupted

  his concentration on the street; he walked back into the shadows of the

  room. Gravet had made his call. Notc.

  Michael lifted the satchel off the ground, dropped it in the

  wire receptacle and rapidly walked diagonally across the

  pavement toward the short flight of steps that led to the bo

  tel, s entrance. With each stride be lessened his stooped

  Posture to return graduaUy to normal height. As he climbed

  the concrete steps be placed his hand on the side of his face,

  his fingers gripping the edge of the wool knit cap. No more

  than eight feet above was the window in which the Soviet

  VKR officer bad been standing only seconds ago, and in sec

  onds he would return. Gravees call would be brief, profes

  sional; in no way could it be construed as a device. There

  was a possible sighting in the Montparnasse. Was the target

  injured? Did he walk with a pronounced limp? Whatever an

  swers the Russian gave, the call would be terminated, proba

  bly in mid-sentence. If it tvas the target, be was heading for

  the M6tro; the hunter would call back

  Inside the dark musty lobby with the cracked tile floor and the cobwebs

  spanning the four comers of the ceiling, Havelock took off his cap,

  flattened- the lapels of his disheveled jacket and ripped the already tom

  cloth that hung from the bottom of his coat. it was not much of an

  improvement, but in the dim light and with erect bearing, it was not

  inapppropriate for a hotel that catered to drifters and whores. It was not

  an establishment that scrutinized its clientele-only the legitimacy of

  their currency.

  It had been Michael's intention to project the image of a man painfully

  coming out of a long drunk, seeking a bed in which to shake through the

  final ordeal. It was not necessary; an obese concierge behind the cracked

  marble counter was dozing in a chair, his soft, fat hands folded on his

  protruding stomach. There was one other person in the lobby: a gaunt old

  man seated on a bench, a cigarette dangling from his lips below an unkempt

  gray moustache, his head bent forward as he squinted at a newspaper in his

  hands. He did not look up.

  Havelock dropped the cap on the floor, side-kicked it toward the wall, and

  walked to his left, where there was a

  I)Em PARsrFAL MosAic223

  narrow staircase, the steps worn smooth from decades of use and neglect, the

  banister broken in several places. He started up the creaking steps and was

  relieved that the staircase was short. There were no turns, no midpoint

  landings; the steps led straight from one level to the next. He reached the

  second floor and stood motionless, listening. There was no sound other than

  the distant hum of traffic, punctuated by sporadic shrieks of impatient

  horns. He looked at the door ten feet away, at the faded painted number, 23.

  He could discern no vocal undercurrent of a one-sided telephone con-

  versation; the call from Gravet was over and the Soviet VKR officer was back

  at his window, the elapsed time no more than forty-five seconds. Michael

  unbuttoned his ragged jacket, reached underneath, and gripped the handle of

  the magnum. As he pulled the gun out from under his belt, the perforated

  cylinder caught briefly on the leather; with his thumb he released the

  safety and started down the dark, narrow hallway toward the door.

  A creak on the floorboards-not his, not under him, behind himl He spun as

  the first door on the left 'beyond the staircase was pulled slowly open.
/>   Since it had been left ajar, there had been no sound of a turning knob; the

  open crack was a line of sight for someone inside. A short, heavyset man

  emerged, shoulders and spine against the frame, a weapon in his hand at his

  side. He raised the gun. Havelock had no time for assessment or appraisal,

  he could only react. Under different circumstances he might have held up

  his hand and whispered sharply a word, a signal, a note of warning to avert

  a terrible error; instead he fired. The man was blown off his feet,

  buckling back into the doorframe. Michael looked at the gtm still gripped

  in the man~s hand. He had been right to shoot; the weapon was a Graz-Burya,

  the most powerful, accurate automatic produced in Russia. The VKR officer

  was not alone. And if there was one . . .

  A knob was being turned; it was the door directly across from Room 23.

  Havelock lurched to the wall to the right of the frame; the door opened and

  Michael spun around, the magnum raised chest-high, prepared to fire or

  deliver a blow-or drop his arm if it should turn out to be an innocent

  hotel guest. The man was in a crouch, and held a gun. Havelock crashed the

  barrel of the magnum on the man's head. The Russian fell back inside the

  room; Michael followed and

  224 ROBLrRT Lmxum

  gripped the door to prevent it from slamming shut. He held the crack open

  less than an inch, stood still and wafted. There was silence in the hall

  except for the faraway sounds of traffic. He backed away from the door, the

  magnum leveled at it, his eyes scanning the floor for the man!s gun. It was

  several feet behind the prone, unconscious figure; he kicked it forward

  beside the body, kneeled clown and picked It up. It, too, was a Craz-Burya;

  the detail sent to Paris was equipped with the best. He shoved it Into his

  jacket pocket, reached over and pulled the Russian toward him; the man was

  limp and would not be conscious for hours.

  He got to his feet, went to the door and let himself out. The violent

  movements bad drained him; he leaned against the wall breathing slowly,

  deeply, trying to put out of his mind the weakness and pain in his body. He

  couldn't stop now. Ilere was the first man In the door beyond the stair-

  case; the door was open. Someone walking past woulcl look inside and go

  Into hysterfes-after no doubt furtively checkIng the dead man!s pockets for

  money. Michael pushed himself away from the wall, and silently, on the

  balls of his thick-soled feet, made his way clown the narrow corridor past

  the staircase. He pulled the door shut and started back toward Room 23.

  He stood facing the barely legible numbers and knew he had to find the

  strength. Ilere was nothing for it but to depend on the shock of the

  totally unexpected. He tensed his chest and stepped back from the door,

  then rushed forward leading with his unwounded shoulder, and crashed the

  full weight of his body against the wood. The door splintered and broke

  open; the VKR officer pivoted away from the window, his hand reaching for

  the exposed holster strapped to his belt. He stopped, swiftly thrusting

  both hands out in front of him, his eyes staring at the huge barrel of the

  magnum pointed at his head.

  'I believe you were looking for me,0 said Havelock.

  "It appears I trusted the wrong people," answered the Russian quietly in

  well-accented English.

  But not your own people," interrupted MIchaeL

  OYou're special.m

  "You lost."

  I never ordered your death. They n-dght have

  THE PAWWAL Mosmc 225

  *Wow yoere lytn& but it doeset matter. As I said, you lost..

  'You!re to be commended," mumbled the VKR officer, his eyes straying above

  Havelock's shoulder to the broken door.

  'You di(Wt hear me. You lost. Theres a man In the room across the hall; he

  woet be attending you.*

  "I see."

  "And another down the way, beyond the staircase. He!s dead."

  "Nyed Molniyar The Soviet agent blanched; his fingers were stretched, taut,

  six inches from his belt.

  'I speak Russian, if you prefer."

  'Ies immaterial," said the startled man. "rm a graduate of the

  Massachusetts Institute of Technology."

  'Or of the American compound in Novgorod, KGB degree.

  "Cambridge, not Novgorod," objected the Russian, disdain in his voice.

  "I forgot The VKR is an elite corps. A degree from the parent organization

  might be considered an insult. The untutored and unskilled conferring

  honors upon its In-house superfore

  'Mere are no such divisions in the Soviet government.*

  'My ase

  '11-ds is pointless."

  Yes, it is. What happened at Costa Bravar

  'I have no idea what you mean."

  'Yoere VKR, Barcelonal The Costa Brava Is in your seotort What happened

  that night on January fourth?"

  "Nothing that concerned us."

  OMovel"

  OWhatr

  "Against the wall*

  It was an outside wall, built of mortar and heavy brick solid for decades,

  weight pressing against weight, impenetrable. The Russian moved slowly,

  haltingly in front of it. Havelock continued.

  arm so special your sector chief in Moscow dDesn't know the truth. But you

  do. It's why yoxere here in Paris, why You put out the premium on me~"

  "You've been misinformed. It Is a crime tantamount to treawn to withhold

  Information from our superiors. As to my

  226 ROBERT LUDLUM

  . , 9 from Barcelona, mmly you understand that. Tt was your last assignment

  and I was your last counterpart. I had the most up-to-date Information on

  you. Who better to send In after you?"

  wyou're very good. You glide well."

  "rve, told you nothing you don~t know, nothing YOU could not learn."

  wYou missed something. Why am I special? Your colleagues at the KGB haven't

  the slightest Interest in ma On the contrary, they woet touch me; they

  consider me a bad text. Yet you say rin special. The Voennaya wants me.'p

  "I won!t deny theWs a degree of interservice rivalry, even departmentaL

  Perhaps we learned It from you. You have an abundance of ft."

  "You haven!t answered my question."

  'We know certain things our comrades are not aware of

  'Such as?*

  'You were placed 'beyond salvage' by your own govern~ ment."

  "Do you know why?*

  "Me reasons at this juncture are secondary. We offer refuge. W

  'Me reasons are never secondary," corrected Michael.

  "Very well," agreed the Soviet officer reluctantly. OA judgment was made

  that you are unbalanced."

  "On what basis?"

  'Pronounced hostility, accompanied by threats, cables. Delusions,

  hallucinations."

  "Because of Costa Brava?'

  WYes."

  0just like that? One day walking around sane, Ong m ports, honorably

  retired; the next a cuckoo bird whistling at the moon? Now yotere not very

  good. Yoidre not gliding well at all."

  *Tm telling you what I know," Insisted the Russian. "I do not make these

  determinations, I follow Instructions. T%e premfurn, as you call it, was to

  be paid for a meeting between us. Why should ft be otherwise? If killing />
  you were the objective, ft would be far simpler to pay for your whereabouts

  and telephone your embassy in the Gabriel, asking for a spedfle artendon;

  I can assure you we know % The Information would reach the proper personnel

  and we would not be In-

  THE PAr"AL MOSAIC 227

  volved, no possibility of en-ors leading to future rePercussions."

  But by offering me refuge and bringing me K you take back a trophy your

  less talented comrades avoided because they thought I was a trap,

  programmed or otherwise."

  'Basically, yes. May we talk?"

  We!re talking." Havelock studied the man; he was convincing, quite possibly

  telling his version of the truth. Refuge or a bullet, which was it? only

  the exposure of lies would tell. One had to look for the lies, not a

  subordinates interPretation of the truth. In his peripheral vision

  Michael-caught the reflection of a dun mirror above a shabby bureau against

  the wall; he Spoke again. "You~d expect me to deliver information you know

  rve got."

  "We!d be saving your life. The order for 'beyond salvage! termination will

  not be rescinded, you know thae

  Yoi~re suggesting I defect."

  -What choice do you have? How long do you think You can keep running? How

  many days or weeks will it be before their networks and their computers

  find you?"

  "I'm experienced. I have resources. Maybe Im willing to take my chances.

  Men have been known to disappear-not into gulags, but to other places-and

  live happily ever after. What else can you offer?"

  "Mat are you looking for? Comfort, money, a good life? We offer these. You

  deserve them."

  aNot in your country. I wodt live in the Soviet Union.-

  "Oh?"

  "Suppose I told you I`W~ picked out a place. les thousands Of miles away in

  the Pacific, in the British Solonions. rve been there-, it!s civilized but

  remote, no one would ever find me. Given enough money, I could live well

  them'

  "Arrangements can be made. I am empowered to guaranr tee that~*

  Lie number one. No defector ever left the Sm*t Union and the VKR officer

  kneto it.

  You flew into Paris last night. How did you know I was here?"

  "Informants in Rome, how elser

  "How did they learn?"

  "One doesdt question informants too closely:'