Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt

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Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt Page 69

by The Parcifal Mosaic [lit]


  phoned Ben, he'd call me and ask what the hell was going on."

  "And what were you going to say?"

  'Mat whoever it was got it backwards. I was the one who wanted the second

  si4pnature for our own records."

  "What did Shippers say?"

  "Just a few words, spoken like a frozen computer. He asked whether I bad

  told either Ben or the man from the insurance company who he was."

  "AndP"

  "I said 'No, I didn't.' Fair was fair, and I guessed the best way was to

  handle it quietly. For him to get over here and sign the damned report

  without any fanfare."

  "His response here?"

  'Again, damned short and bloodless." Randolph paused, and spacing his words

  apart in a monotone, be continued, "'Have you told me everything,' he

  wanted to know. I tell you he was a zombie."

  "What did you sayr

  "I said of course I had, what else was there? Thaes when he tc)ld me he'd

  call me back. just like that, 'Ill call you back,' in that God-awful

  voice."

  Havelock breathed deeply, his eyes dropping to the names on the Pentagon

  stationery, to one name in particular. "Doctor, either you~ve done a

  remarkable job or Im going to have your inflated head."

  "What the hell are you talking aboutr

  "If yoed done it my way, just using the insurance company alone, without

  any other name, Shippers would have assumed MacKenzie's death was being

  reexamined by a third party without telling you. Now, if he calls this

  Jackson hell know yoere lying."

  "So what? Same result, !set it?"

  "Not for you, Doctor, and we caet bring in your friend; we Caet take the

  risk. For your sake I hope he's gone fishing.

  544 RoBERT LuDLum

  And I mean it-if you~ve given me another complication, I'll see your head

  rolling down the street."

  'Well, now, young fella, Ive been doing some thinking about that. There

  could be a couple of heads rolling down a two-way street, couldn't there?

  Here you are, a muckamuck from the White House telling me the executive

  branch of our government is trying to cover up the brutal killing of a

  heroic veteran, an employee of the CIA, and I'm just a country doctor

  trying to protect the interests of his bereaved widow and fatherless

  orphans because they've suffered more than anyone had a right to ask them

  to suffer. You want to tangle with me, you bastard?"

  "Please call me if you hear anything further, Dr. Randolph.-

  Special Detachment Officer Charles Loring, Consular Operations, late of

  Poole's Island, rubbed his eyes and raised the thermos of black coffee to

  his lips as be sat in the front seat of the gray sedan. The driver was for

  all intents and purposes a stranger; that is to say, Loring had not seen him

  before ten o7clock last night, when he had met the entire unit selected by

  Havelock from thirty-odd service records submitted by the Federal Bureau of

  Investigation at the justice Department's request. The uiiit was now his

  responsibility, the assignment of continuity surveillance understood, the

  reasons behind it withheld-which was not the smartest thing to do when

  dealing with superior talent.

  And regardless of Havelock's minor-very minor-attempt to stroke him,

  Charley Loring knew that the former Cons Op field man was getting some of

  his own back by claiming "reluctant privilege." The only clue Havelock gave

  him was that this Shippers was tied in with Poole's Island, and it was-with

  reluctance-enougb for Charley. Havelock was a low-blowdealing prick and be

  bad made fools of Savannah, but if he was running some part of the Matthias

  show in Washington, he bad more problems than they did. Loring would do

  what he could to help. There were times when likes and dislikes just did

  not mean very much; the catastrophe-the tragedyof Poole's Island was such

  a time.

  The unit had met at ten o'clock at Sterile Eleven down in Quantfco, and had

  stayed up until four in the morning covering the variables of total

  surveillance-without knowing a

  Tim PAwrrAL MosAic545

  damn thing about the subject. They bad a photograph, but except for an

  inadequate description furnished by Randolph that was about all they bad,

  and it, too, was inadequate. It was a blowup made at Sterile Eleven from a

  1971 Jefferson Medical School yearbook that had been located by the FBI

  office in Philadelphia. No reason was given the agents who found it, only

  that they should observe complete secrecy. Actually, it had been stolen out

  of the university's library by an agent, who bad concealed it under his

  coat. Examining the grainy blowup, the unit bad to imagine a face

  considerably older than that in the photograph, and since no one they could

  speak with had seen Shippers in four months, the possibility of a beard or

  a moustache could not be discounted. And they could speak to no one about

  Dr. Colin Shippers, no one at all. Havelock's orders.

  Initial surveillance bad dispelled the conjecture about any hirsute

  additions to the subjeces face; tinted glasses and a heavier frame were the

  essential differences between his ap~-pearance now and the yearbook

  photograph. The men inside the Regency Foundation had radioed out twice;

  they had picked up Shippers. One man was down the ball from the laboratory

  where the pathologist worked; the other covered his office on the floor

  below. The waiting bad begun, thought Loring. But waiting for what?

  The hours or the days would tell. All Charles Loring knew was that he had

  done everything he could to position the unit effectively: spaced apart and

  in contact to ensure maxfinurn concealment. The cars were at one-way

  intersections, his own down the street and across from the research center

  with a full view of the entrance and the adjacent garage used for personnel

  parking.

  A sharp, high-pitched hum came from the dashboard console; it was a signal

  from one of the men inside. Loring reached for the microphone, depressed

  the switch, and spoke. "S-Five. What is it?"

  'S-Three. He just left the lab, seems in a hurry."

  "Any clues?"

  "I heard a telephone ring in there a few minutes ago. Hes alone, so be

  could have talked, but that's spec. I wasn't able to overhear any

  conversation."

  "Ies good enough. Stay where you are and stay out of sightm

  WRoBE11T LUDLUM

  Loring replaced the microphone, only to hear a second jarrIng signal before

  he could lean back in the seat.

  "S-Five."

  "S-Two. Subject went into his office. From the way he walked-bis general

  demeanor-be's agitated."

  "Good description; it fits upstairs. We may be moving faster than any of

  us-"

  "Hold itl Stay on the line," instructed Surveillance 2 as static filled the

  speaker. The man had concealed his radio under his clothing without

  breaking the open circuit. In seconds his voice was back. "Sorry. Subject

  came right back out and I had to spin. He chucked the white coat and is in

  his street clothes. Same tan raincoat, same soft, floppy hat. I guess he's

  yours.

  "I guess be is. Out." Loring held the microphone in his hand a
nd turned to

  the driver. "Get ready, the package is coming our way. If I have to go on

  foot, take over. III stay in touch." He reached under his jacket and took

  out the small compact hand-held radio, checking by habit the battery

  charge. He then pulled back his left sleeve, revealing the flat

  miniaturized high-speed camera attached to the underside of his wrist. He

  twisted his hand and heard the muted click; he was ready. "I wonder who

  this Shippers is,- he saicL watching the entrance of the Regency

  Foundation.

  The telephone rang, breaking Havelock's concentration on his Pentagon

  notes. He picked it up.

  'Yes?"

  "Cross?"

  Michael blinked, recognizing Randolphs strident voice. "Yes, Doctor?"

  "Maybe we can both keep our beads. Ben Jackson just called, angrier than a

  Point Judith squall."

  "What about?"

  "Seems this lawyer phoned him asking why the final payment on MacKenzie's

  policy was being held up."

  "Shippers," said Havelock.

  "You got it, and Ben was maddern bell. There was no flnal payment. The

  entire settlement was mailed to Midge's lawyer about eight weeks ago."

  "Why did Jackson call you and not Mrs. MacKenzie's attorney?"

  TFm PmisrFAL MosAic547

  'Because Shippers-I figure it was Shippers or someone calling for him-got

  shook up and said there was some confusion over signatures on a medical

  report and did Ben know anything about it. Naturally, Ben said he didn't;

  the money was paid-processed through his agency-and that was that. He also

  added that he didrft appreciate his reputation-m"

  "Listen to me," interrupted Havelock. "I won't lose my head, but you may

  have blown yours away. I want you to stay in your office and don~t see

  anybody until I can get a couple of men up there. If anyone tries to reach

  you, have the desk say you're operating."

  "Forget itl" shot back Randolph. "A mealy-mouthed snot like Shippers

  doesn't worry me. He comes near here, I'll have one of the guards throw him

  into a padded cell."

  "If he did and you could, Ird kiss your feet at this point, but it wont be

  Shippers. He may call you; that's as.near as hell come and itd be the best

  thing that could happen to you. If he does, say you're sorry for the white

  lie, but after long consideration, you wanted to cover yourself on that re-

  port..

  "He wouldn't believe it."

  "Neither would 1, but ies a stall. rll have men up there within the hour."

  "I don't want theml"

  "You have no choice, Dr. Randolph," said Michael, hangIng up and

  immediately centering the page of telephone numbers in front of him.

  "Do you really think Shippers will go after him?" asked jenna, standing by

  the window with the CIA report in her hand.

  "He won't, but others'll be sent up there, not at first to kill him, but to

  take him. Take him and get him alone where they can press his head until

  they find out who he's dealing with, who he's lying for. Killing could be

  nicer." Havelock reached for the phone, his eyes on the page below.

  "On the other hand," observed jenna, "knowing Randolph lied, knowing he was

  involved, made Shippers move faster than we thought possible. How long ago

  was Loring's last caur

  "Over an hour. Shippers took a taxi downtown; they're with him on foot by

  now. We should be hearing soon." Michael dialed; the line answered quickly.

  "This is Sterile

  548 ROBERT LunLum

  Five, Fairfax. Under that code name I was taken under escort up to the

  Randolph Medical Center yesterday. Talbot County, Maryland, Eastern. Shore.

  Will you confirm, please?" While waiting, Havelock covered the phone and

  said to Jenna, "I just thought of something. With any luck we might turn a

  liability into an asset," then returned to the phone: "... Yes, that's

  right. Three-man team; departure was eleven hundred hours. Are you ready for

  instructions? . . . Return two men, up there immediately on a priority

  basis. Subject is Dr. Matthew Randolph; be's to be given protection, maximum

  visual contact, but there's a book. I want the men to be part of the local

  scenery-orderlies or staff or whatever I can work out with Randolph. Tell

  them to get en route and call me on the mobile phone in twenty minutes;

  patch it through you." Michael paused again, looking again at Jenna as the

  Secret Service dispatcher checked schedules. "Randolph may have done us

  another favor at a risk to himself he'll never understand."

  "It be cooperates."

  "He hasn't got a choice, I meant that." The dispatcher returned; Havelock

  listened, then spoke. "No, that's fine. Actually, I prefer men who weren't

  up there yesterday. By the way, the code will be-" Michael stopped, his

  thoughts going back to the Palatine, to a dead man whose words had sent him

  to Maryland's Eastern Shore. "Apache," he said. "They were hunters. Tell

  Apache to call me in twenty minutes."

  Dr. Matthew Randolph roared his objections to no avail. He would either

  cooperate, Havelock told him, or they could all take their chances and the

  fallout "tangling" with each other. "Mr. Cross" was prepared to press his

  suit to the limit even if it meant admitting the murder of a CIA operations

  officer named Steven MacKenzie. And Randolph, understanding that he was now

  between a rock and a hard place, entered into the dangerous charade with a

  fair degree of inventiveness. The Apache team would be two visiting

  cardiologists from California, complete with white jackets and

  stethoscopes.

  . Havelock's orders were explicit, no room for error. Whoever came for

  Matthew Randolph-and someone was bound to come-he or they were to be taken

  alive. Wounds were permitted, but only in the legs, the feet, nothing above

  the waist.

  THE PARSWAL MOSAJC549

  It was a Four Zero order, none more sacrosanct in the clandestine services.

  "Havelock, Ws Loring."

  "How goes it?"

  "My driver said he wasn't able to raise you."

  "I was talking with an irascible doctor, but if there was an emergency,

  your man could have broken in. He knows that."

  "it wasiA and it iset. Ies just weird." Loring stopped. The pause was

  uncomfortable.

  "What!s going down, Charleyr

  "That's just it. Nothing. Shipper's taxi let him off in front of

  Garfinckle's Department Store. He went inside, made a call from one of the

  phones on the first floor, and for the past hour or so he's been wandering

  around the men~s shop on the fifth. I'm calling from there; rve got him in

  sight."

  "He's waiting for someone."

  'If he is, it's an odd way of doing it quietly."

  "What do you mean?'

  "He's buying clothes like be was going on a cruise, trying on things and

  laughing with the clerks. He's a one-man gross for the day."

  "Ies not usual, but be patient. The main point is be made the call, made

  his first outside move. Yoere doing fine."

  "Who the hell is he, Havelock?'

  Michael reflected. Loring deserved to be told more than he had been; it was

  the moment to bring him nearer to the truth. So much depended on the
sharp,

  plainspoken Cons Op officer.

  "A deep-cover entry who's going to meet a man.who could blow Poole's Island

  out of Savannah harbor. I'm glad yolfre there, Charley. We have to know who

  that man is.-

  "Good enough, and thanks. All the floors and exits here are covered, we're

  in contact and our cameras; ready. If it's a question of choice, do we drop

  Shippers and stay with his contact?"

  "You may not have to. You may recognize him. The others probably wouldn't,

  but you might."

  "Jesus, from State?"

  'Ilaes right. My guess is fairly high-level, forty-five to middle fifties,

  and some kind of specialist. If you do recognize him, stay far back until

  they separate, then pick up

  55D ROBEIRT LIUDLUM

  Shippers and bring him down here. But when you close in, be very fast and

  very careful and check for capsules.-

  "Shippers is that deep? Christ, bow do they do it?"

  "Past tense, Charley. Did. A long time ago."

  The waiting would have been intolerable had it not been for Havelock's

  growing fascination with a Lieutenant Commander Thomas Decker, Annapolis

  '61, former skipper of the submarine Starfire, and a member of the

  Pentagon's Nuclear Contingency Committees. Decker was a liar with no ap-

  parent reason for lying.

  Michael had spoken with all fifteen NCC senior officers calling several

  twice, a few three times, ostensibly to put togetber a clear picture of the

  committees' working methods for updated presidential comprehension. In most

  of the conversations the initial remarks were guarded-eacb, of course '

  demanding White House switchboard verification-but as the words flowed and

  the officers realized Havelock knew what he was talking about, they grew

  less wary and more specific within the bounds of maximum security.

  Hypothetical events were matched with theoretical responses, and beyond his

  fundamental reason for speaking to each man, Havelock was impressed. If the

  laws of physics determined that for every action there was an equal and

  opposite reaction, the NCC teams had come up with a better equation. For

  any nuclear action on the part of an enemy the reaction was anything but

  equal; it was devastatingly superior. Even Lieutenant Commander Deckees

  contributions were electric in this sense. He made it clear that a ring

 

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