Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt

by The Parcifal Mosaic [lit]

  the knife and struck him, a sharp, hard blow behind the right ear; the man

  collapsed. Havelock took out a rawhide lace, cut it in two with the knife,

  and bound the guar&s hands and feet. Finally, he gagged the man with his

  own handkerchief, tying the cloth in place with one of the three remaining

  laces. He dragged the unconscious body into the foliage and started for the

  "house."

  The Water Musk soared into its thematic march, horns and strings

  intermingling, reverberating above and behind the balf-house. Havelock

  climbed the short hill that bordered the brick steps until he was within

  ten feet of the first lacecurtained window. He crouched and crept to it,

  his bead below the sill, then stepped to the side and stood up. He inched

  his face to the glass. The room was exactly as he remembered it from

  another time and place. The worn, fine Oriental rugs, the heavy,

  comfortable armchaifs, the brass lamps; it was Matthias's sitting room-bis

  parlor, as he called it-a place to greet visitors. Michael had spent many

  pleasant hours in that room, yet this was not that room.

  He crouched and made his way to the edge of the strange structure, rounded

  the corner, and started toward the rear, toward a wall he could picture in

  his mind, a wall that enclosed a garden-hundreds of miles away. There were

  three windows to pass, to duck under, to check, and the second window told

  him what he had to know. Inside, a heavyset man sat on a couch, smoking a

  cigarette, his feet on a coffee table, watching television. The volume was

  high, apparently to counteract the stereophonic sound of the music.

  Havelock ran to the wall and jumped; he clung to the top with both hands,

  and then, his chest aching and the wound

  THE PARsiFAL MosAic429

  close to tearing apart, be pulled himself up. He lay prone, catching his

  breath, letting the pain subside.

  Below, the eerily lit garden was as be remembered it. Soft light coming

  from the house, a single lamp on the all-important chess table between two

  brown wicker chairs, other white wicker furniture, and a slate path roaming

  in circles around the beds of flowers.

  There he was, his beloved pfitel, sitting in a chair at the end of the

  garden, his eyes closed, seeing images the music evoked in his mind. The

  tortoiseshell glasses were still in place; the silver hair waved back over

  his strong bead.

  Silently Havelock swung his legs over the side, rolled on his stomach and

  dropped to the ground. He stayed in the shadows for several moments; the

  music had dropped to pianissimo, and the sound of the television could be

  beard distinctly. The guard would remain inside-tbat was to say, he would

  remain inside until Michael wanted him. And when he bad taken the hired gun

  of liars, he would use him or kill him. Somehow.

  Havelock came away slowly from the wall and walked down the circular path

  toward Matthias.

  For no apparent reason the statesman suddenly opened his eyes. Michael

  rushed forward holding up both hands, the gesture a command for silence-but

  it was ignored. Matthias spoke, his deep voice rising with the music. "To

  fe dobrg srot,ndnif, Mikhail. So good of you to come around. I was thinking

  about you the other day, about that paper you wrote several weeks ago. What

  was it? The 'Effects of Hegelian Revisionism~ or some such immodest and

  inappropriate title. After all, my darebdk akademik, Hegel is his own best

  revisionist, no? The revisionist nwximusl How do you like that?'

  "Anton ... P"

  Again suddenly, without warning, Matthias rose from his chair, eyes wide in

  a face that was contorted. He began backing away unsteadily, his arms

  crossed in front of his chest, his voice now a horrible whisper: "Nol You

  cannot . . . you must not ... come near mel You don't understand, you can

  never understandl Get away from met"

  Havelock stared; the shock was as unbearable as the truth.

  Anthony Matthias was insane.

  BOOK

  THREE

  26

  "Raise your handsl Walk to the wall and spread your legsl Movel ... Nowl

  Lean into the brick, palms straight outl"

  As if in a trance, his eyes still on Matthias, who was crouching like a

  child on one knee by a rosebush, Havelock did as the guard ordered. He was

  in shock, his impressions a blur, his thoughts suspended. His pfitel, his

  mentor ... his father ... was mad. The shell of the man who had astonished

  the world with his brilliance, with his perceptions, was cowering by the

  flowers, his head trembling, the frightened eyes behind the glasses filled

  with a terror no one knew but himself.

  Havelock had heard the guar&s footsteps on the slate and known the blow was

  coming. Somehow it had not mattered. Nothing mattered.

  A spreading web of pain shuddered through his head, and the darkness came.

  He was on a parlor rug, circles of bright white light spinning in front of

  his eyes, his temples throbbing, his drenched, sand-filled trousers pressing

  against his skin. He could bear men rushing up the steps outside, barking

  orders in panic. As they came through the door he felt his jacket, his

  waist; his gun had been taken, but he had not been searched. Presum433

  434 RoBERT LUDLUM

  ably, that process and the interrogation would be left to the guariTs

  superiors.

  Two men approached: one in uniform, a major; the other, a civilian. He knew

  the latter; be was from State, an agent from Cons Op he had worked with in

  London or Beirut, or Paris or ... he could not recall.

  "That's him," said the civilian. "Bradford told me it might be-he didn't

  know how-but it is. He gave me the details; you're not involved."

  "Just get him out of here," replied the soldier. "What you do is your

  business."

  "Hello, Havelock." The man from State looked down with contempt. "You've

  been busy. It must have been fun killing that old guy in New York. What

  were you doing? Setting him up for contingency funds, with a little more of

  the same down here? Get on your feet, you bastardl"

  Body and head racked, Michael slowly rolled onto his knees and pushed

  himself up. 'Vhat happened to him? What happened?"

  "I don't answer questions."

  'Somebody has to . . . for Chrises sake, somebody has tol"

  "And give you a free ticket? No way, you son of a bitch." The civilian

  addressed the guard, who was standing across the room. "Did you search

  him?"

  "No, sir. I just removed his weapon and punched the alarm. 0 There!s a

  flashlight on his belt and some kind of pouch.

  "Let me help you, Charley," said Havelock, spreading the field jacket and

  reaching for the oilcloth packet. "It is Charley, isn't it? Charley Loring

  . . . was it BeirutP"

  'It was, and keep your goddamned hands stifll"

  "What you wanes in there. Go on, take it. It won't deto. nate.-

  Ile man from State nodded at the major; the soldier stepped forward and

  grabbed Michaers hands as Charles Loring ripped the packet off the webbed

  belt.

  "Open it," continued Havelock. "It's from me to you. All of YOU."

  The Cons Op agent unzipped
the packet and took out the folded yellow pages.

  The major released his grip as the civilian walked to a floor lamp and

  began reading. He stopped,

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  looked over at Michael, then spoke to the soldier. "Wait outside, Major. And

  you," he added, glancing at the guard. "In the other room, please."

  "Are you sure?" asked the officer.

  'Very," said Charley. "He's not going anywhere, and I'll shout if I need

  you." The two, men left, the soldier out the front door, the guard into the

  next room. "You7re the lowest piece of garbage I've ever known," said the

  man from State.

  "It's a carbon, Charley."

  "I can see that."

  'Call Cons Op emergency. Every fifteen minutes since eleven o!clock they've

  gotten a message. It's in the form of a question: 'Billiards or pool? The

  response is, Ve prefer pool.' Tell them to give it."

  "Then what?"

  "Patch yourself into the next call, give the response, and listen."

  "So some other piece of garbage can read this to me."

  "Oh, no, just twelve seconds' worth. No way to trace. And don't bother to

  think about giving me a needle. rve been in therapy before, so I took

  precautions. I have no idea where the calls are coming from, take my word."

  "I woulddt take your word for a goddamn thing, garbagel-

  "You~d better right now, because if you don~t, copies of those pages will

  be sent to appropriate addresses all over Europe. From Moscow to Athens,

  from London to Prague-from Paris to Berlin. Get on the phone."

  Twenty-one minutes later the man from State stared at the wall as he gave

  the response to Jenna Karas. Eleven seconds after that he hung up and

  looked over at Havelock. "You're everything they said you were. Yoifre

  filth."

  "And 'beyond salvage?"

  "That's right."

  "Then so are you, because yoere programmed, Charley. You're useless. You

  forgot how to ask questions."

  'What?"

  "You just accepted the verdict on me. You knew me-knew my record-but it

  didn't make any difference. The word came down and the good little sheep

  said, "Why not?"

  "1 could W you."

  430 RoBERT LUDLUM

  'And live with the consequences? Don!t do that. Call the White House."

  He could hear the deafening roar of the giant helicopters rotating blades

  and knew that the President of the United States had arrived at PooWs

  Island. It was midmorning, and the Georgia sun was burning the pavements

  outside the open window. He was in a room, but there was no question that it

  was a cell even though there were no bars in the single window. He was two

  stories off the ground; there were four soldiers beneath, and the eerie

  facades and photographs of familiar buildings could be seen beyond. A world

  of lies, of artifice, of transplanted, warped reality.

  Havelock walked back to the bed-more cot than bed-and sat, down. He thought

  of Jenna, what she must be going through-again; what resources she had to

  summon to survive the unbearable tension. And of Matthias-good God, what

  had happened? Michael relived the horrible scene in the garden, trying to

  find a thread of sense.

  You must not come near tne. You doWt understand You can never understand!

  Understand what?

  He had no idea how long be sat there thinking; be only knew that his

  thoughts were interrupted by the crack of the glass panel in the center of

  the door. A face appeared; it was under the gold braid of a visored cap.

  The door opened, and

  broad-shouldered, middle-aged colonel walked in, gripping

  pair of handcuffs.

  "Turn around," he ordered. "Extend your arms~"

  Havelock did as he was told, and the cuffs were clamped around his wrists.

  -What about my feet?- asked Michael curtly. "Aren't they considered

  weapons?-

  "rll have a much more effective one in my hand," said the offloer, "and

  I'll be watching you every second. You pull one thing I could even

  misinterpret, I'm inside, and yoere dead."

  "A one-on-one conference. I'm flattered."

  The colonel spun Havelock around. I don't know who you are, or what you're

  doing, or what you~ve done, but you remember this, cowboy. That man is my

  responsibility, and there!s no way I wouldnt blow you out of this room and

  ask questions later."

  "WWs the cowboy?"

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  As if to punctuate his threat, the officer shoved Michael back into the

  wall. "Stay there," he commanded, and left the room.

  Thirty seconds later the door was opened again, and President Charles

  Berquist walked in. In his hand were the thirteen carbons of Havelock's

  indictment. The President stopped, and looked at Michael. He raised the

  yellow pages.

  "This is an extraordinary document, Mr. Havelock."

  "Ies the truth."

  "I believe you. I find a great part of it beneath contempt, of course, but

  then, I tell myself that a man with your record would not cavalierly cause

  the exposure and death of so many. That, basically, this is a threat-an

  irresistible threatto make yourself beard."

  'Men you'd be telling yourself another lie," said Michael, motionless

  against the wall. "I was placed 'beyond salvage: Why should I concern

  myself with anyone?'

  "Because you~re an intelligent man who knows there have to be

  explanations."

  "Lies, you mean?"

  "Some are lies and they will remain lies for the good of this country..

  Havelock paused, studying the hard Scandinavian face of the President, the

  steady eyes that were somehow a hunter's eyes. "Matthias?"

  gTes."

  "How long do you think you can bury him here?*

  "For as long as we possibly can."

  "He needs help."

  "So do we. He bad to be stopped.*

  "What have you done to him?'

  "I was only part of it, Havelock. So were you. We all were. We made him an

  emperor when there were no personal empires to be allocated by divine

  right, much less ours. We made him a god when we didn't own the heavens.

  There!s only so much the mind can absorb and act upon when elevated to such

  heights in these very complicated times. He was forced to exist in the

  perpetual illusion of being unique, above all other men. We asked too much.

  He went mad. His mind-that extraordinary instrumentsnapped, and when it

  could no longer control itself, it sought control elsewhere. To compensate,

  perhaps, to convince him-

  438 ROBERT LuDLum

  self that he was what we said be was, although a part of him told him he

  wasn1 Not any longer."

  "What do you mean 'sought control elsewhere? How could he do that?"

  "By committing this nation to a series of obligations that were, to say the

  least, unacceptable. Try to understand, he had feet of quicksilver, not of

  clay, like you and me. Yes, even me, the President of the United States,

  some say the most powerful man in the world. It's not true. I'm bound by

  the body politic, subject to the goddamn polls, guided by the so-called

  principles of a political ideology, with my head on a congressional

  chopping block. Checks
and balances, Mr. Havelock. But not him. We made him

  a superstar; he was bpund to nothing, accountable to no one. His word was

  law, all other judgments were subordinate to his brilliance. And then there

  was his charm, I might add.'

  "Generalities," said Michael. "Abstractiom"

  "Lies?" asked Berquist.

  "I don't know. What are the specifics?"

  "I'm going to show you. And if after what you've seen, you still feel

  compelled to carry out your threat, let it be on your head, not mine."

  "I don't have a head. I'm 'beyond salvage.'"

  . I told you, I've read these pages. All of them. The order's been

  rescinded. You have the word of the President of the United States."

  "Why should I accept it?"

  "If I were you, I probably wouldn't. rm simply telling you. There are many

  lies and there will continue to be Res, but that's not one of them.... I'll

  have the handcuffs removed."

  The scene in the large, dark, windowless room was an unearthly depiction of

  a science-fiction nightmare. There were a dozen television screens mounted

  in a row on the wall, monitors that recorded and taped the activities seen

  by the various cameras. Below the screens was an enormous console manned by

  four technicians; several white-jacketed doctors entered, watching a scene

  or scanning tapes, writing notes, leaving quickly or conferring with

  colleagues. And the object of the whole sophisticated operation was to

  record and an-

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  alyze every movement made and every word spoken by Anthony Matthias.

  His face and body were projected on seven screens at once, and under each

  monitor was a green digital readout showing the exact hour and minute of

  the filming; the screen on the far left was marked Current. The day was an

  illusion for Matthias, starting with morning coffee in the garden identical

  with his own in Georgetown.

  "Before he wakes, he's given two injections," said the President, sitting

  next to Havelock at a second, smaller console at the rear wall. "One's a

  muscle relaxant that reduces physical and mental tensions; the other, a

  stimulant that aocelerates the heart, pumping blood, without interfering

  with the first narcotic. Don't ask me the medical terms, I don't know them;