not harassed. The minimum police force had maximum arms and a communications
system that proportionately rivaled that of the Pentagon, where it was prob-
ably designed. Fox Hollow was an island in a landlocked area of Virginia as
surely as if its square mileage were surrounded by an impassable sea.
The air had been warmed by the Potomac River, and the snow bad receded on
the outskirts of Harpers Ferry. It had turned into a cold drizzle at
Leesburg, by which time Havelock had prepared his scenario for Raymond
Alexander. Its bureaucratic plausibility lent it conviction, plausibility
based on genuine anxiety where present or past covert operations were
concerned. There had been a killing in New York-if Alexander had not heard
of it~ be would by morning; be was a voracious reader of newspapers-and the
killer had mocked
THE PARsiFAL MosAic397
up an impersonation, including an ID and an appearance uncomfortably close
to Michaers own. The State Department had flown him back from London on
military transport; any assistance the retired foreign service officer could
give Consular Operations would be appreciated; also, be had been in London,
hadn't he?
The Bradford ploy would be refined as their conversation progressed, but
the basic thrust would be that the once controversial undersecretary of
State was about to be rehabilitated and put back in the limelight. In
London, Havelock would say, he had been given a detailed report of
Bradfor&s extensive but secret negotiations in the touchy matter of NATO
missile deployment; it was a major shift in policy. It was also
sufficiently explosive to get Alexander's juices running. It was the sort
of advance leak he thrived on, giving him time to put together an
exhaustive analysis of the pros and cons. But if the old warborse wished to
interview Emory Bradford-with on-site but unseen verification, possibly
confrontation-be bad to persuade the undersecretary to come out to Fox
Hollow in the morning. Havelock had a reservation on the afternoon flight
back to London-and, of course, time and schedules permitting, he wanted to
drop in on his old mentor Anthony Matthias, if only for a few-minutes. If
Alexander knew where he could find him.
As for Bradford, he had no choice. If summoned by the redoubtable
journalist, he would comply. Other things-such as Costa Brava-might be
paramount, but he still had to maintain his low profile at all costs, and
one way to lose it was to refuse to be interviewed by Raymond Alexander.
And when he came into the house in Fox Hollow, with his guards remaining
outside in a limousine, Michael would take him. His disappearance would
baffle the liars and the guards hired by the liars. The journalist's large,
rambling house was surrounded by miles of dense woods, overgrown fields and
steep ravines. No one knew forests the way Mikhail Havh6ek knew them; he
would take Bradford through them until they came to a backeountry road
somewhere, and a car, and the woman that Bradford had used in Barcelona.
After his meeting with Alexander, they would have all night to study the
map and travel the roads, watching for the Fox Hollow pohoe, explanations
at the ready if they were stopped. They could do it. They had to do it.
398 ROBEnT LunLum
"Ies lovelyl" cried Jenna, charmed by the gas-lit streets and the small
alabaster columns of the storefronts.
"Ies wired," said Michael, spotting a blue-and-white patrol car at the curb
in the middle of the block.
"Cet downl" he ordered. "Stay out of sight."
"What?"
Pleme.-
Jenna did as she was told, curling up on the floor.
He slowed down, pulling alongside the police car, he saw the officer in the
window, then eased to his right, and parked directly in front.
"What are you doing?" whispered Jenna, bewildered.
"Showing my credentials before anyone asks for them."
"That's very good, Mikhail."
Havelock got out of the coupe and walked back to the patrol car. The police
officer rolled down the window, first studying the license plate on
Michael's rented car. It was precisely what Michael wanted him to see; it
could be of value later that night if a "suspicious vehicle" was reported.
"Officer, could you tell me where there~s a pay phone around here? I
thought there was one on the comer, but then I havenI been back here in a
couple of years."
- "You~ve been here before?" asked the policeman, his voice friendly, his
eyes not.
"Oh, sure. Used to spend weekends out here a lot."
"You have business in Fox Hollow, sir?"
"Well . . ." Havelock paused, as if the question bordered on impertinence.
Then he shrugged, as if to say, After all the police have a job to do. He
spoke in a slightly lower tone. "All right, I understand. My business is
with an old friend, Raymond Alexander. I want to call and tell him I'm
here. . . . just in case someone's dropped in on him hed prefer I not meet.
It's standard procedure with Mr. Alexander, Officer, but you probably know
that. I could drive around for a while. niprobably have to later on
anyway."
The pohceman~s posture had visibly improved at the mention of Alexander's
name. Limousines and military staff cars were common sights on the road to
the venerated political oDmmentatoes retreat. There was no such vehicle in
front of him now, but the operative phrases were printed in the officees
eyes: "An old frienT; "Used to spend weekends . . .*
THE PARsiFAL Mosmc399
~Yes, sir. Of course, sir. There's a restaurant five blocks up with a phone
in the lobby."
"The Lamplighter?" said Havelock, remembering.
"That's it."
"I don't think so, Officer. It could be a busy night. Isn~t there a booth
on the street?"
"There's one over on Acacia."
"If you'll tell me how to get there, both R.A. and I would appreciate it."
"You can follow me, sir."
Manks very much." Michael started for his car, then stopped and returned
to the window. "I know this sounds silly, but I was usually driven out
here. I think I know the way to his home. I take a left on Webster to
Underhill Road, then straight out for two or three miles, isn't that it?"
"Ies nearer six miles, sir."
"Oh? Thanks."
"After you make your call, I could lead you out, sir. Ies quiet in town
tonight."
"That's very kind of you. But really, I couldn't ask you."
"No problem. That's what we're here for."
"Well, thanks again. I appreciate it."
The call to Raymond Alexander brought fortb the response Havelock expected.
Nothing would do but that he drop in and see the journalist if only for a
drink. Michael said be was glad Raymond was free, not only to renew an old
friendship but because be had learned something in London that Alexander
n-dght want to know about. It might even make up partially for a great many
expensive dinners Havelock had enjoyed at Raymond's expense.
On the way back to his car from the booth, Michael stopped at the police
officees window. "Mr. Alexander wanted me
to get your name. He's very
grateful to you."
"Ies nothing, sir. My name's Lewis. Officer Lewis; there!s only one."
Lewis, he thought. Harry Lewis, professor of political science, Concord
University. He could not think about Harry now, but he would have to think
about him soon. Lewis must be convinced be had dropped out of civilization.
He had, and to reenter it~ liars would have to be found and exposed.
400 RoBERT LuDLum
'Is something the matter, sir?"
"No, nothing at all. I know a man named Lewis. I remembered I was to call
him. Thanks once again. I'll follow you."
Havelock climbed behind the wheel of the rented car and looked at Jenna.
"How are you doing?'
"Uncomfortable and frightened out of my mindl Suppose that man had come
over?"
"I would have stopped him, called to him from the booth, but I didn't think
it was likely. The police in Fox Hollow stay close to their radios. I just
don't want you seen, if we can help it. Not around here, not with me."
The drive out to Alexander?s house took less than twelve minutes. The white
post-and-rall fence marking the journalist!s property shone in the glare of
the headlights of both cars. The home itself was set far back from the
road. It was a tasteful combination of stone and wood, with floodlights
shining down on the circular drive in front of wide slate steps that led to
the heavy oak entrance door. The grounds were cleared in the front and on
the sides of the house; thick, tall trees shot up at random about the
close-cropped lawn. But where the lawn ended, on either side the dense
woods abruptly began. From memory, Michael pictured the rear of the house;
the woods were no farther away from the large back patio than they were
from the sides of the building. He would use those woods and Bradford would
enter them with him.
"When you hear the police car leave," he said to Jenna, "get up and
stretch, but don't get out. I don't know what kind of alarms Alexander has
around here."
"It's been a strange introduction to this free country of yours, Mikhail."
"Also, don't smoke."
Dgkuft.-
"Yotere welcome."
Havelock purposely touched the rim of the horn as he got out of the car;
the sound was abrupt and short, easily explained. There were no dogs. He
walked toward the patrol car in front, hoping the horn would serve its
function before he reached the window. It did; the front door opened and a
uniformed maid stood in the frame, looking out.
"Hello, Margaret]" yelled Michael over the hood of the police car. "Be
right there." He looked down at the police of-
THE PAmiFAL MosAic401
Beer, who had glanced at the door, the scene not lost on him. "Thanks again,
Officer Lewis," he said, taking a bill from his pocket. 'Td like to-"
"Oh, no, sir, thanks just the same. Have a good evening, sir." The officer
nodded with a smile, pulled the gear in place, and drove off.
Havelock waved; no police, no dogs, only unseen alarms. As long as Jenna
stayed in the car, she was safe. He walked up the slate steps to the door
and the maid.
"Good evening, sir," said the woman in a distinct Irish brogue. "My name is
Enid, not Margaret."
"I'm terribly sorry."
"Mr. Alexander is expecting you. I never heard of a Margaret; the girl
before me was Gretchen. She lasted four years, may the Lord rest her soul."
Raymond Alexander got up from the soft easy chair in his book-lined,
wood-paneled library and walked - toward Michael, his hand outstretched.
His gait was more lively than one might have expected from his portly
figure; his cherubic face with the clear green eyes was topped by a mass of
disheveled hair that managed to stay darker than the years normally
permitted. In keeping with his anachronistic lifestyle, be wore a deep red
velvet smoking jacket, something Havelock had not seen since his adolescent
days in Greenwich, Connecticut.
"Michael, how are you? My God, ies been four, five years nowl" cried the
journalist in his clipped, high-pitched voice.
"Theyve served you well, Raymond. You look great."
'You dodtl Forgive me, young man, but you look like something one of my
cats would have left outside. I don7t think retirement agrees with you."
Alexander released Havelocles hand and quickly raised both of his own.
"Yes, I know all about it. I keep track when friends answer questions. Four
yourself a drink, you know the rules here and you look like you need one."
1.1 will, thanks," said Michael, heading for the familiar copper dry-bar
against the wall."
I suppose you'd look better with some sleep. . .
It was the opportune opening. Havelock sat down opposite the journalist and
told him the story of the killing in New York and State's flying him back
from London at 4:00 A.M., U.K. time.
402RoBE:irr LuoLum
"I read about that this morning," said Alexander, shaking his head.
"Naturally, I thought of you-tbe name, of coursebut knew right away it was
ridiculous. You, of all people, with your background? Did someone steal an
old identification of yours?"
"No, it was mocked, thaeswbat we think. At any rate, ies been a long two
days. For a while I thought I was a prisoner."
"Well, they never would have brought you over this way if Anton had been
apprised, I can tell you that."
Only Matthias's closest friends called him by his Czech first name, and
because Michael knew it, the statement alarmed him. By necessity, it
reversed the sequence that Havelock had intended, but it would have been
unnatural not to inquire. The Bradford ploy would come last; Matthias now.
"I wondered about that," said Havelock, revolving the glass in his hand,
his voice casual. "I simply figured be was too damned busy. As a matter of
fact, I was going to ask you if be was in Washington. I'd like to drop in
and see him, but my time's limited. I have to get back to London, and if I
call hiin myself ... well, you know Anton. He'd insist I spend a couple of
days."
Alexander leaned forward in the heavily cushioned chair, his intelligent
face expressing concern. "You don~t know, then?'
"Know what?"
"Damn it, that's when government paranoia goes too farl Hes the closest
thing you have to a father and you're the closest thing he has to a sonl
You who've kept the secrets of a thousand operations and they haven't told
you."
"Told me what?"
",.knton's ill. I'm sorry you have to hear it from me, Michael."
"How ill?"
"The rumors range from serious to fatal. Apparently he's aware of whichever
it is, and, true to form, thinks of himself last. When State learned that
I'd found out, be sent me a personal note swearing me to secrecy."
"How did you learn of it?"
"One of those odd things you don't really think about . until you think
about it. I was inveigled into going to a party
THE PAnsiFAL MosAjc403
In Arlington several weeks ago-you know how I detest those exhausting
exercises in verbal endurance, but the hostess was
a close friend of my late
wife."
"I'm sorry," interrupted Havelock, only vaguely remembering the journalises
wife, a willowy thing who had opted for gardens and flower arrangements. "I
didn't know."
"It's all right. It's been over two years now."
"The party in ArlingtonF'
"Yes, well to my embarrassment a youngish woman who was quite drunk
virtually assaulted me. Now, if she'd been a predatory female intent on a
sexual liaison, I could have understood her being drawn to the most
desirable man on the prermses, but I'm afraid it wasn't the case.
Apparently, she had marital difficulties of a most unusual nature. Her hus-
band was an army officer absent from the household-read 'connubial be&-for
nearly three months, and no one at the Pentagon would tell her where be
was. She feigned illness, which I doubt took a great deal of
self-persuasion, and he was brought back on emergency leave. When she got
him in her net, she demanded to know where he'd been, what he was
doing-read 'other woman.' He refused to tell her, so when soldier-boy was
asleep she went through his clothes and found a security pass for a post
she'd never heard of; I hadn't either, as a matter of fact. I gather she
battered him awake and confronted him, and this time in self-defense he
blurted out that it was the highest-priority classification. It was where
a very important man was being treated, and he couldn!t say any more."
"Anton?" broke in Michael.
"I didn't piece it together until the next morning. The last thing she said
to me-before some charitable or oversexed guest drove her home-was that the
country should be told about such things, that the government was behaving
like Mother Russia. That morning she phoned me, quite sober and in serious
panic. She apologized for what she described as her 'ghastly behavior' and
pleaded with me to forget everything she'd told me. I was entirely
sympathetic, but added that perhaps her instincts were right, although I
wasn't the person she should appeal to; there were others who would serve
her better. She replied something to the effect that her husband could be
ruined, a brilliant military career destroyed. So that was that."
404RoiBERT LuDLum
"That was what? How did you flnd out it was Matthias?"
Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt Page 51