Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt

by The Parcifal Mosaic [lit]

  nailed to the wooden bench.

  "Mikhair

  The guard had recovered from Jenna's blows and was pulling the Ilama out of

  his leather jacket. Michael sprang forward and jammed the heavy barrel of

  the .45 into the

  372 RoBERT LuDLum

  man!s temple; reaching over his shoulder, he pressed down, holding the Llama

  in place.

  "Mr. Kohoutek? Have you got it?" yelled the voice through the radio static.

  "What should the sparrow do? He wants to knowl"

  "Tell him you've got it," ordered Havelock breathing hard, thumbing back

  the hammer of the gun. "Say the sparrow should do nothing. Youll be in

  touch."

  "We've got it." The guard's voice was a whisper. "rell the sparrow not to

  do anything. Well be in touch."

  Michael yanked the microphone away and pointed to the Llama. "Now, just

  hand it to me slowly," be said. "Use your fingers, just two fingers," he

  continued. "After all, it's mine, Iset it?"

  "I was going to give it back," said the frightened guard, his lips

  trembling.

  "How many years can you give back to the people you drove in this thing?"

  'nat hasn't anything to do with me, I swear itl I just work for a living.

  I do what rm told."

  'You all do." Havelock took the Llama and moved the automatic around the

  man's head, pressing it into the base of his skuR. "Now, drive us out of

  here," he said.

  22

  The slender, middle-aged man with the straight dark hair opened the door of

  the telephone booth at the comer of 116th Street and Riverside Drive. The

  wet city snow was clinging to the glass, blurring the rotating red lights of

  the police cars up the block. He inserted the coin, dialed o, then five

  additional digits; he heard the second tone and dialed again. In moments a

  private phone was ringing in the living quarters of the White House.

  'YesP"

  "Mr. President?'

  "Emory? How did it go?"

  "It didi*. He's dead. He was shot.'

  The silence from Washington was interrupted only by the sound of Berquises

  breathing. "Tell me what happened," said the President.

  "It was Havelock, but the name wasn~t reported correctly. We can deny the

  existence of any such person at State."

  "HavelockP At ... ? Oh my Godl"

  "I donI know all the details, but enough. The shuttle was delayed by the

  snow and we circled LaGuardia for nearly an hour. By the time I got here

  there were crowds, police cars, a few press and an ambulance."

  'Me press?"

  'Yes, sir. Handehnan~s promment: here. Not only because

  873

  374 RoBzRT LuDLum

  he was a Jew who survived Bergen-Belsen, but because of his standing at the

  university. He was respected, even revered.-

  "Oh, Christ ... What did you learn? How did you learn it? Your name won't

  surface, will it?"

  "No, sir. I used my rank at State and-,reached the precinct up here; the

  detective was cooperative. Apparently Handelman had an appointment with a

  female graduate student, who came back to the building twice before ringing

  the superintendent. They went up to Handelman~s apartment, saw the door was

  unlocked, went inside, and found him. The saperfutendent called the police,

  and when they got here, he admitted having let in a man who had State

  Department cre~ dentials. He said his name was Havilitch; he didnI recall

  the first name, but insisted the ID was in order. The police are still in

  Handelman's apartment getting fingerprints, cloth and blood scrapings."

  "Have the details been made public?"

  "In this town they cajYt wait. It was all released twenty minutes ago.

  There was no,way I could stop it, if I wanted to. But State doeset have to

  clarify; we can deny."

  The President was silent, then he spoke. "When the time is right, the

  Department of State will cooperate fully with the authorities. Until then

  I want a Me built-and circulated on a restricted basis-around Havelock's

  activities since his separation from the government. it must reflect the

  governmenes alarm over his mental state, his apparent homicidal tenden-

  cies-his loyalty. However, in the interests of national security, that file

  will remain under restricted classification. It will not be made public."

  "fra not sure I understand."

  'JChe facts will be revealed when Havelock Is no longer a threat to this

  country's interests."

  "Sir?"

  "One man is insignificant," said the President softly. "Coventry, Mr.

  Undersecretary. The Enigma... ParsifaL"

  "I accept the reasoning, sir, not the assumption. How can we be sure we'll

  find him?'

  "Hell find us; hell find you. If everything weve learned about Havelock is

  as accurate as we believe, he wouldn't have killed Jacob Handelman unless

  he had an extraordinary reason. And he would never have killed him if he

  hadet

  . THE PARS17AL MOSAIC375

  learned where Handelman sent the Karas woman. When he reaches her, hell know

  about you."

  Bradford paused, his breath visible, the vapor briefly interrupted. '-fes,

  of course, Mr. President."

  "Get back here as fast as you can. We have to be ready . you have to be

  ready. III have two men flown up from ii;X's Island. They'll meet you at

  National;- stay in airport security until they arrive."

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Now, listen to me, Emory. My instructions will be direct,

  theBy presidential order you are to be

  vprotection; your life is in their hands.

  Yby a killer who's sold his government's

  secrets to the enemy. Those will be the words I use; yours

  will be different. You will use the language of Consular Op

  erations: Havelock isbeyond salvage.' Every additional hour

  he lives is a danger to our men in the field."

  "I understand."

  "Emoryr

  "Sir?"

  "Before all this happened I never really knew you, not personally," said

  Berquist softly. 'Whats your situation at homer

  "Homer

  "Ies where he'll come for you. Are there children at home?"

  "Children? No, no, there are no children. My older son~s in college, my

  younger boy away at boarding school."

  "I thought I heard somewhere that you had daughters."

  "Two. Theyre with their mother. In Wisconsin."

  "I see. I didn~t know. Is there another wife?"

  "There were. Again, two. They didn7t last."

  "Then there are no women living in your house?"

  "There are frequently, but not at the minute. Very few during the past four

  months."

  "I see."

  "I live alone. The circumstances are optirn=4 Mr. President."

  "Yes, I guess they are."

  Using the coiled ropes on the wall of the van, they tied the guard to the

  steering wheel, Kohoutek to the bench.

  376 RoBERT LuDLum

  "Find whatever you can and bind his band," said Michael. "I want him alive.

  I want someone to ask him questions."

  jenna, found a fanners kerchief in the glove compartment She removed the

  scaling knife from the old mountain buIrs huge hand, ripped the cloth in

  two, and expertly bound t
he wound, stemming the blood at both the gash and

  the wrist

  "It will hold for three, perhaps four hours," she said. "After that, I doet

  know. If he wakes and tears it, he could bleed to death.... Knowing what I

  know, I have no use for prayers.

  "Someonell find him. Them. This truck. It'll be light in an hour or so, and

  the Fourforks Pike's a country route. Sit down for a minute." Havelock

  started the engine and, reaching over the guard's leg, depressed the clutch

  and shoved the truck in gear. Wrenching the man back and forth over the

  steering wheel, he maneuvered the vehicle so that it was broadside across

  the road. "Okay, let's get out."

  "You caet leave me herel" whined the guard. "Jestar

  "Have you been to the toilet?"

  "What?"

  "I hope so, for your sake

  "Mikhajlr

  "Yes?"

  rhe radio. Someone might come along and free him. Hied use it. We need

  every minute."

  Havelock picked up the .45 from the seat and smashed the thick, blunt

  handle repeatedly into the dials and switches until there was nothing but

  shattered glass and plastic. Finally, he ripped the microphone out of its

  receptacle, severing the

  wires; he opened the door and turned to jenna. 'Well leave the lights on so

  no one smashes into it," he said, stepping out and pulling the seat forward

  for her. "One more thing to do. Come on."

  Because of the wind, the Fourforks Pike had less than an inch of snow on

  the surface except for the intermittent drifts that had been pummeled into

  the bordering grass. Michael handed the A5 to jenna, and switched the LJama

  to his right hand. "rhat makes too much noise," he continued. "The wind

  might carry it down to the farmhouse. Stay here."

  He ran to the back of the van and fired twice, blowing out both rear tires.

  He raced up the other side and fired into the front tires. The truck rocked

  back and forth as the tires de-

  THE PA:asiFAL MosAic377

  flated and settled into the road. To clear the highway, it could be driven

  into the grass, but it would go no farther than that. He put the Llama into

  his pocket.

  "Let me have the forty-five," he said to jenna, pulling his shirt out of

  his trousers.

  She gave it to him. "What are you going to do?"

  "Wipe it clean. Not that iell do much good, our prints are all over inside

  the van. But they may not brush there; they will this."

  .so?,,

  "I'm gambling that our driver in his own self-interest will yell like hell

  that it's not his, that it belongs to his employer, your host, Kohoutek."

  "Ballistics," said jenna, nodding. "Killings on Me."

  "Maybe something else. That farm win be torn apart, and when it is, they

  may start digging around those acres. There could be killings not on file."

  He held the automatic with his shirttail, opqned the door of the truck and

  arced the weapon over the front seat into the covered van.

  "Hey, come on, for Christ's sakel" shouted the driver, twisting and turning

  against the ropes. "Let me out of here, will ya? I didn~t do nothing to

  youl They'll send me back for ten yeard"

  "They're a lot easier on people who turn state's evidence. Think about it."

  Havelock slammed the door and walked rapidly back to jenna. "The cais about

  a quarter of a mile down on the other side of Kohouteles road. Are you all

  right?-

  She looked at him; particles of snow stuck to her blond bair swirling in

  the wind and her face was drenched, but her eyes were alive. "Yes, my

  darling, I'm all right... Wherever we are at this moment, I'm home."

  He took her hand and they started down the road. "Walk in the center so our

  footsteps will be covered."

  She sat close to him, touching him, her arm through his, her head

  intermittently resting on his shoulder as he drove.

  The words between them were few, the silences comforting; they were too

  tired and too afraid to talk sensibly, at least for a while. They had been

  there before; they knew a little peace would come with the quiet-and being

  with each other.

  378 ROBERT LuDLu-m

  Remembering Kobouteles words, Havelock headed north to the Pennsylvania

  Turnpike, then east toward Harrisburg. The old Moravian had been right; the

  low-flying winds virtually swept the wide expanse of highway, and the

  subfreezing temperature kept the snow dry and buoyant. Although the

  visibility was poor, the traveling was fast.

  "Is this the main auto route?" asked jenna.

  "Ies the state turnpike, yes."

  "Is it wise to be on itP If Koboutek's found before daybreak, might not men

  be watching this 'turnpike' as they do the Bahnen and the drAa?"

  "We're the last people on earth he wants the police to find. We know what

  that farm is. He'll stall, use the intruder story, say he was the hostage,

  the victim. And the guard won't say anything until he hasn't got a choice,

  or until they find his record, and then he'll bargain. We're all right."

  "That's the police, darling," said jenna, her band gently touching his

  forearm. "Suppose it is not the police? You want it to be the police, so

  you convince yourself. But suppose it is someone else? A farmer or a driver

  of a milk truck. I think Kohoutek would pay a great deal of money to get

  safely back to his home."

  Michael looked at her in the dim light of the dashboard. Her eyes were

  tired, with dark circles under them; fear was still in the center of her

  stare. Yet in spite of the exhaustion and the dread, she was

  thinking-better than he. But then she had been hunted far more often than

  he, more recently than he. Above all, she would not panic; she knew the

  value of control even when the pain and the fear were overwhelming. He

  leaned over and brushed his lips on her face.

  "You're magnificent," he said.

  "rm frightened," she replied.

  "And you're also right. There's a childish song that says 'wishing will

  make it so.' It's a lie, and only for children, but I was counting on it,

  hoping for it. The odds of the police finding Kohoutek, or a citizen

  reporting what he found to the police, are no better than seventy-tbirty.

  Against. We'll get off at the next exit and head south."

  "To where? Where are we going?"

  "First, where we can be alone, and not moving. Not running."

  THE PARSIFAL MOSAIC379

  She sat in a chair by the motel window, the early light spreading up and

  over the Allegheny Mountains outside in the distance. The yellow rays

  heightened the gold in the long blond hair that fell across her shoulders.

  Alternately she would look at him, then turn her face away and close her

  eyes; his words were too painful to hear in the light.

  When he finished, he was still caught in the anguish that came with the

  admission: he had been her executioner. He bad killed his love and there

  had been no love left in him.

  Jenna rose from the chair and stood silently by the window. "What did they

  do to us?" she whispered.

  Havelock stood across the room watching her; he could not look away. And

  then he was drifting back through indeterminate time,
through the rolling

  mists of a haunting, obsessive dream that never left him. The images were

  there, the moments remembered, but they had been pushed out of his life

  only to rise up and attack him, inflaming him whenever the memories refused

  to stay buried. What's left when your memorVs gone, Mr. Smith? Nothing, of

  course, yet bow often had he wished for oblivion, with no images or remem-

  bered moments-trading nothingness for the absence of pain. But now be bad

  passed through the nightmare of interrupted sleep and bad come to life,

  just as the tears had come to Jennds eyes and washed away the hatred. But

  the reality was fragile; its fragments had to be pieced together.

  "We have to find out why," said Michael. "Broussac told me what happened to

  you, but there were gaps I couldn't understand."

  "I didn't tell her everything," said Jerma, gazing at the snow outside. "I

  didiA lie to her, but I didn't tell her everything. I was afraid she

  wouldn't help me."

  "What did you leave out?"

  "The name of the man who came to see me. He's been with your government for

  a number of years. He was once quite controversial, but still respected, I

  think. At least, I'd heard of him."

  "Who was it?"

  "A man named Bradford. Emory Bradford."

  "Good God . . ." Havelock was stunned. Bradford was a name from the past,

  a disquieting past. He bad been one of the political comets born under

  Kennedy and winning dubious spurs with Johnson. When the comets had faded

  from

  380 ROBERT LuDLum

  the Washington firmament, heading for the international banks and the

  foundations, the prestigious law offices and the corporate boardrooms,

  Bradford - had remained-less celebrated, to be sure, and less influential,

  certainly-where the political wars had been fought. It was never understood

  why. A degree of personal wealth aside, be could have done a thousand other

  things, but be bad chosen not to. Bradford, thought Havelock, the name

  echoing in his head. All these years, had Emory Bradford merely been marking

  time, waiting for another version of Camelot to carry him into another time

  of self-aggrandizing glory? It had to be. If be had reached jenna in

  Barcelona, be was at the core of the deception at Costa Brava, a deception

  that went far beyond himself and jerma, two lovers turned against each