Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt

by The Parcifal Mosaic [lit]

  "Again Ambiguity?"

  "No one else could have done it. No one else but a man with the clearance

  code could have infiltrated the strategy at that bridge."

  jenna looked at him, then across at the windows; the orange glow was

  fading. "There are still too many omissions. Too many gaps."

  "We'll fill some of them in, maybe all."

  "Emory Bradford, of course."

  "And someone else," said Havelock. "Matthias. Four days ago I tried to

  reach him from Cagnes-sur-Mer on his private line-very few people have the

  number. I couldn't understand it, but he wouldn't talk to me. You can't

  know bow crazy it was-in a way, unbelievable. But he wouldn't and I thought

  the worst: the man closest to me had cut me off. Then you tell me about

  Bradford, and rm beginning to think I was wrong."

  "How do you mean?"

  "Suppose Anton wasn't there? Suppose others had taken over that private

  place, that very private line?"

  B?udfordP-

  "And whatever's left of his tribe. The return of the polftical comets,

  looking for a way to get their fires back. According to Tinw magazine,

  Matthias is off on an extended holiday, but what if be's not? What if the

  most celebrated Secretary of State in history is being held incommunicado.

  In a clinic somewhere, unable to get word out."

  "But that's incredible, Mikhail. A man like that would have to stay in

  touch with his office. There are daily briefings, decisions-2'

  "It could be done through second and third parties, aides known to State

  personnel."

  "It's too preposterous."

  'Maybe it's not. When they told me Anton wouldn~t talk to me, I pouldn't

  accept it. I made another call-to an old man, a neighbor of Matthias's whom

  be saw whenever be went to his lodge in the Shenandoah. His name's

  Zelienski and be's good for Anton-a retired professor brought over from

  Warsaw a number of years ago. They'd sit around playing chess, talking

  about the old days. He was a tonic for Mat-

  THE PARSIFAL MOSAJC389

  thias and both of them knew it, especially Anton, but when I spoke to

  Zelienski he said Anton didnt have time for him these days. Didn't have

  time."

  "It's entirely possible, Mikhail."

  "But not consistent. Matthias would make the time; he wouldn~t cut off an

  old friend without at least some kind of explanation, any more than he

  would me. It is not like him."

  "How do you meanF'

  "I remember ZeliensWs words. He said he'd leave messages for Anton and men

  would call him back expressing Matthias's regrets, saying be rarely drove

  out to the valley anymore. But he did; he was there in the valley when I

  called. Or he was supposed to be. My point is, he may not have been."

  "Now youW not consistent," broke in jenna. "If what you say is true, why

  didn't they simply say he wasn1 there?"

  "They couldn't. I used the private line and it's to be answered only if

  he's on the premises, and only by him. Someone picked up the phone by

  mistake and tried to cover it."

  "Someone working for Bradford?'

  "Someone who's part of a conspiracy against Matthias, at any rate, and I

  wouldn't exclude Bradford. Men in Washington are dealing secretly with men

  in Moscow. Together they built Costa Brava, convincing Matthias you7re a

  Soviet agent-his note to me made that clear. We don't know whether

  everything went off the track or not, but we do know Matthias had nothing

  to do with it and Bradford did. Anton didn't trust Emory Bradford and his

  crowd; he considered them the worst sort of opportunists. He kept them away

  from extremely sensitive negotiations because he believed theVd use them

  for their own ends. He had a point; they did it before, letting the country

  know only what they wanted people to hear, using the classification stamp

  so that it became their signature." Michael paused, inhaling on his

  cigarette as jenna looked at him. "He may be doing it again, God knows for

  what purpose. Iell be dark soon and we can drive. Wen head across into

  Maryland, then down to Washington."

  "To Bradford?"

  Havelock nodded. jenna touched his arm and said, "They'll connect you with

  Handelman and assume you reached me. They'll know the first name I'd give

  you is Bradford's. They'll guard him."

  390 ROBERT LuDLum

  "I know that," said Michael. "Lees get dressed. We've got to eat and flnd

  a newspaper, one that carries the wire services. We'll talk in the car." He

  began walking toward his suitcase, then stopped. "My God, your clothes. I

  didn't think; you don't have your clothes."

  'Tohoutek's people took them, took everything. They said foreign labels,

  European luggage, mementos-anytbing like that-had to be conflscated for our

  own good. There could be no traces of where we came from. They would supply

  me with something suitable later."

  "Suitable for what?"

  "I was too frightened to think."

  "Take all your possessions, and leave you alone in a cell."

  So much to make up for. "Let's go," be said. I

  "We should stop somewhere and pick up a Red Cross kit," added jenna. "That

  dressing on your shoulder should be changed. I can do it."

  So much to make up forl

  23

  At a diner on the outskirts of Hagerstown, they saw a dispenser for

  newspapers reflected in the light of the entrance. There were two papers

  left, both afternoon editions of the Baltimore Sun. They took both, to see

  whether any photographs had been released that might alert someone inside

  the roadside restaurant. Shaving the negative odds was instinct.

  They sat across from each other in a corner booth. They turned the pages

  rapidly, and when they had gone through them all, they breathed easier.

  There were no photographs. They would go back and study the article in a

  moment; it was on page three.

  "You must be starved," said Havelock.

  "To tell you the truth, I'd like a drink, if they serve one hem'

  "They do. ru order." He glanced at the counter and held up his hand.

  "I haven't even thought about eating."

  "That's strange. Kohoutek said you wouldn~t eat last night, that you threw

  the tray at his Cuban."

  "A tray full of scraps. I ate; you always told me never to leave food when

  you're in a bad situation. That you never know when you'll get another

  meal."

  "Listen to Mother."

  891

  392 ROBERT LuDLum

  "I listened to a child running for his life through the woods."

  "History. Why did you throw the tray? To keep him away from you?"

  "To get the fork. There was no knife."

  "You're something, lady."

  "I was desperate. Stop complimenting me."

  A plump, overly made-up waitress approached the table, her eyes appraising

  jenna with a mixture of sadness and envy. Michael understood, neither with

  satisfaction nor in condescension; he merely understood. jenna Karas was

  that often-forgotten person, whether she was forced to kill in order to

  survive, or be seduced so she might live. She was a lady. Havelock ordered

  their drinks. The waitress smiled as she nodded and left quickly; s
he would

  return quickly.

  "Let's get to the bad news," said Michael, opening the newspaper.

  "It's on the third page."

  "I know. Did you read it?"

  "Only the bottom line where it said 'continued on page eleven.' I thought

  they might have included a photograph there."

  "So did V' Havelock began reading as jenna watched him. The waitress

  returned, placing their drinks on the table. "We'll order food in a

  minute," said Michael, his eyes riveted on the paper. The waitress left as

  Havelock quickly flipped the pages, snapping the paper in place. As he read

  on he experienced relief, then concern and, finally, alarm. He finished and

  leaned back in the booth, staring at je

  "What is it? What does it say?"

  "They're covering it up," he said softly.

  "What?"

  "Theyre protecting me ... actually protecting me~"

  "You couldn't have read it properly."

  "I'm afraid I did." He leaned forward, his fingers scanning the lines in

  the column of the paper. "Listen to this. 'According to the State

  Department, no such individual matching the name, the description, or the

  fingerprints is currently or has ever been in the employ of the Department

  of State. Further, a spokesman for State said that to speculate on the

  similarity of the reported name of the kiHer with that of any present or

  past employee would be grossly unfair and

  THE PAnsi7AL Mosmc393

  Inaomrate. A thorough computer check was made upon receipt of the Manhattan

  police report, and the results were negative. However, the State

  Department's report revealed that the slain Professor Handelman had acted as

  a consultant to the Department in the area of European refugee displacement,

  with emphasis on those persons who had survived the Nazi period. According

  to a spokesman, the Manhattan police theorize that the killer may be a

  member of a terrorist organization violently hostile to the Jewish

  community. The State Department pointed out that it is not uncommon for

  terrorists in all countries to assume the identities of government

  personnel.'" Havelock stopped and looked up at Jenna. "That!s it," he said.

  "Theyve thrown everybody off."

  "Could they believe it?"

  "Not possible. To begin with, there are a hundred people fii and out of

  State who know I was with Consular Operations. Theyd put the names together

  and come up with mine. Second, my fingerprints had to be all over

  Handehnan~s apartment; thWre on file. Last, Handelman had nothing

  whatsoever to do with any part of the government; that was his strength. He

  was a halfway man for the Quai d'Orsay, and they never would have used him

  if they thought he'd ever be under government scrutiny. It isn't done;

  we're all off-limits."

  "What do you make of it?"

  Michael sank back in the booth, reached for his whisky, and drank. "It's

  too blatant," be mused, holding the glass in front of his li S.

  "A trap, Ten, . said Jenna. "They want you to come inpresumably after

  Bradford-and take you."

  "To a point 'beyond salvage,' to coin a phrase. And once I'm dead, I caet

  talk, but they can explain they trapped a killer. Reaching Bradford would

  be easy, coming out with him impossible.... Unless I could draw him out,

  make him come to me."

  "They'll never permit it. He'll be flanked by guards and they'll be

  watching for you. Theyll kill you on sight."

  Havelock drank again, a thought stirring at the bottom of his mind but as

  yet unclear. 'Vatching for me," he repeated, putting the glass down.

  "Looking for me ... But no one's looking for me except the men who did this

  to us."

  "The liars, as you call them," said Jenna.

  394 ROBFRT LunLum

  "Yes. We need help, but I assumed we couldet get it, that anyone I might

  want to reach wouldi* touch us. That's not the case now; they called oB1

  thie hunt."

  "Don7t be foolish, Mikhail," interrupted Jenna. "It!s part of the trap.

  There's an alert out for you as well as for me, and yours isdt coded;

  there!s nothing ambiguous about it. You're you, and every agency that might

  be of value has you on its list. Whom in your government do you think you

  could trust?"

  "No one," agreed Havelock. "And no one who could survive abeyond salvage'

  association, if I did trust him."

  "Then what are you saying?"

  'Cagnes-sur-Mer," said Michael, squinting. "At Salanne!s house, when I

  couldn't reach Anton I called old Zelienski-I told you, remember? He

  mentioned him. 'Alexander the Great,' he called him. Raymond Alexander. Not

  just a mutual friend, but a pretty damned good friend-of mine as well as

  Matthias. He could do it."

  "How?'

  "Because he's outside the government. Outside but in a way very much a part

  of it; Washington needs him and he needs Washington. He's a writer for The

  Potomac Review, and knows as much about the government as anyone I've ever

  met. But he relies on his contacts; he'd never let me get near him if Id

  been identified in the newspapers, but I wasn1"

  "How could he help us?"

  "I'm not sure. Maybe draw out Bradford for me. He does in-depth interviews,

  and to be interviewed by him is a plus for anyone in the government. He's

  above suspicion. They might drive Bradford out in a tank, but theyd let him

  go inside the house by himself. I could hint at something unexpected, a

  substantive change in, the State Department with Bradford at the center.

  Then suggest an interview-with me in the house to listen, to verify."

  "The house?"

  "He works at home; it's part of his mystique. Like James Reston at the

  Times. If a politician or a bureaucrat says he was at Fiery Run, everyone

  knows what he means; there'll be a story by Scotty Reston. If he says he

  was out at Fox Hollow, the same people know be was interviewed by Raymond

  Alexander. Fox HolloVs in Virgh~ia just west of Washington.

  THE PARSIFAL MOSMC395

  We could be there in an hour and a half, two hours at the most."

  "Would he do it?"

  "He might. I won't tell him why, but he might. We're friends."

  "The university?"

  "No, but there's a connection. I met him through Matthias. When I first

  started at State, Matthias would come down to Washington on one thing or

  another, building his contacts, charming the asses off influential asses,

  and I'd frequently get a hurry-up call from Anton, asking me to join them

  both for dinner. I never refused, not only because of the company, but the

  restaurants were the kind way beyond my income."

  "That was gracious of your pfitele."

  "And not very bright for a brilliant man, considering the nature of my

  training. He was the u&tel extolling his not too gifted student from Praha,

  when the last thing I needed was any sort of notice. I explained this

  quietly to Alexander. We both laughed and, as a result, had dinner now and

  then when Anton was safely back in his tower at Princeton, tending his

  academic gardens and not trying to grow arbors in Washington. Make no

  mistake, the great Matthias was not above fertilizing the seeds he'd sown."
r />   "You~d have dinner at Alexander's home?"

  "Always. He understood that he also wasn't someone I wanted to be seen with

  in public."

  "Then you are good friends."

  "Reasonably so."

  'And Vs influential?"

  "Of course."

  Jenna reached over and touched his arm. "Mikhail, why not tell him

  everything?"

  Havelock frowned and put his hand over hers. "I don~t think he!d want to

  hear it. It's the sort of thing he runs from. "

  "He's a writer. In Washington. How can you say thatF'

  "He's an analyst, a commentator. Not an investigative reporter, not a

  muckraker. He doesn't like stepping on toes, only on ophiions."

  "But what you have to tell him is extraordinary."

  "He~d tell me to go straight to the State Department security bureau on the

  basis that I'd get a fair hearing. I

  396 RoBEnT LyinLum

  wouldn't. I'd get a bullet in my bead. Alexander~'s a sixtyfive-year-old

  curmudgeon who's heard it an-from Dallas to Watergate-and he thinks a

  hundred and ten percent of it is a conspiracy of horseshit. And if be found

  out what rd done-Handelman excluded-be~d call security himself."

  "He's not much of a friend."

  "By his lights he is; just don't transgress." Michael paused, turning her

  hand over. "But beyond the possibility that he~d bring Bradford out to Fox

  Hollow, there's something be might clear up. My pfitele. I'll ask him to

  find out where Matthias is, say that I dodt want to call myself because I

  may not have time to see him and Anton would be upset. He'd do it; with his

  connections be could do it."

  "Suppose he can't?'

  "Then that'll tell us something, won't it? In which case, IT force him to

  get Bradford out there, if I have to put a gun to his bead. But if he does

  reach Matthias at a lodge in the Shenandoah ... we'll know something else,

  and it frightens the hell out of me. It will mean that the Secretary of

  State has a Moscow connection in the KGB.~

  The village of Fox Hollow was small. The streets were lit by gas lamps and

  the architecture was Colonial by township decree; the stores were called

  shops and their clientele was among the wealthiest in the Washington-New

  York orbit. The village's charm was not only apparent, it was proclaimed,

  but it was not for the benefit of outsiders-tourists were discouraged, if