Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt

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by The Parcifal Mosaic [lit]


  perimeter of undersea nuclear marauders could demolish all major enemy

  installations from the North Atlantic to the Black Sea and most points in

  between in a matter of minutes. In this area be did not lie; be did in

  another. He said be had never met Secretary of State Anthony Matthias.

  His name had appeared on three separate telephone logs from Matthias's

  office, all within the past six months.

  It was, of course, possible that Decker's statement was true, that be bad

  not actually met Matthias, merely spoken with him on the phone. But if that

  was the case, why bad be

  not volunteered the information? A man who was asked whether or not be knew

  a statesman of Matthias's stature did not deny it readily without quickly

  offering the qualification

  THE PARsrFAL MosAic551

  that he did know him by way of the telephone. It was not natural, actually

  contradictory for an obviously ambitious naval officer rising fast in the

  Pentagon who would typically clutch ferociously at the coattails of Anthony

  Matthias.

  Thomas Decker, USN, bad lied. He did know Matthias and, for obscure

  reasons, did not care to admit it.

  It was time for the fourth call to Lieutenant Commander Decker.

  "You know, Mr. Cross, I've given you about all I can or should in these

  matters. Im sure you're aware that there are restrictions placed on me that

  can only be countered by the President himself-in his presence, I might

  add."

  "rin aware of that, Commander, but I'm confused by one of my notes. It

  probably has nothing to do with anything we've talked about, but the

  Secretary of State didn7t understand it, either. You said you didn't know

  him, never met him..

  Decker's pause was as electric as his data on undersea nuclear warfare.

  "Thaes the way he wanted it," he said quietly. 'flaes the way he said it

  had to be."

  "Thank you, Commander. Incidentally, Secretary of State Matthias was trying

  to pinpoint it this morning. He couldn't recall where you and be last

  talked with each other."

  "The lodge, of course. Sometime in August or September, I think."

  "Of course. The lodge. The Shenandoah."

  "Thafs where it was, where it always was. No one knew anything. It was just

  ourselves. How is it possible he caZt remember?"

  "Thank you, Commander. Good-bye."

  The Shenandoah.

  The bell was piercing, the ring unbroken; it was the switchboard's way of

  signaling emergency. Havelock had been pacing, thinking; be rushed across

  the room and grabbed the phone. It was Loring.

  "You~ve got my tail on a plate and IT start carving it for youl Jesus, I'm

  somjl"

  "You lost him," said Michael, drained, his throat dry.

  "Christ. I'll turn in my cardsl Every fucking one of theml"

  "Calm down, Charley. What happenedr

  552 ROBERT LuDLum

  "A switch. A goddamned stoitchl I ... I just wasn't looking for itl I

  should have, but I wasn'ti"

  "Tell me what happened," repeated Michael, sitting down as Jenna got up

  from the couch and started toward the desk.

  "Shippers paid for the stuff he bought, arranging for most of it to be

  delivered except for a couple of boxes he took with him. He went into the

  fitting room and came out dressed for the street, same raincoat, same soft

  hat, carrying the boxes."

  "Held high," Havelock broke in wearily, again the sense of futility

  spreading through him.

  "Naturally," agreed Loring. "I followed him to the elevator, staying

  several aisles away-frankly looking at every son of a bitch in the men's

  department, figuring one of them might be your man. One lousy son of a

  bitch who might~ have brushed up against Shippers and gotten something from

  him. The elevator door closed, and I raised the men on each floor, every

  stop covered, each man to head below and join the others at the outside

  exits the second that elevator passed his floor. My S-Nine picked him up at

  the Fourteenth Street entrance and followed him, radioing the rest of us

  his position; we spread out in cars and on foot. Je&wl"

  .111*7aen did it happen?" asked Michael.

  "On the comer of Eleventh, four minutes after I left the store, and I was

  the last one out. The man bailed a cab, threw the boxes inside and, just

  before he got in, took off his hat. It wasn't Shippers at all. It was some

  guy ten, fifteen years older and mostly bald."

  "What did your Nine do?"

  "The best be could. -He tried to stop the cab, but he couldn't; it shot

  right through a break in traffic. He called us, spelling everything out,

  giving the cab's number and description. Five of us ran back to the store,

  covering what exits we could, but we all knew we'd lost him. S-Eleven and

  -Twelve went after the cab; I told th~m to stay with it if they had to

  break every traffic law on the books-since we'd lost the subject, we could

  still grab the plant. They picked it up six blocks west, and there was no

  one inside. Only the raincoat, the hat, and the two boxes lying on the

  floor."

  "The driver?"

  "He said some nut got in, took off his coat, gave him five

  THE PARSIFAL MOSAIC553

  dollars, and jumped out at the next light. Tle men are taking the boxes in

  for possible prints."

  "They won't find any matching anything in the Bureau~s computers."

  "I'm sony. Havelock, I'm really sorry. Shippers's whole act was a

  diversion, and I bought it. Of all the goddamned times to lose an instinct,

  I had to pick this one."

  Michael shook his head as he spoke. "You didn't lose it, Charley, I pushed

  it out of your head. At least you sensed a break in the pattern and I told

  you to forget it. I told you to be patient and concentrate on a man who

  never intended to be there."

  "You don't have to do this," said Loring. I wouldn't if I were you."

  "You don't know that. Besides, I need you. You're not off the hook,

  Charley, I want those instincts of yours. There's a naval officer at the

  Pentagon, a Lieutenant Commander Thomas Decker. Under a very thick screen,

  find out everything you can about him. Everything."

  "An entry?"

  "No. A liar."

  Jenna supported herself on the desk at Michael's side, looking over his

  shoulder as he studied the names and brief summaries of the men she had

  selected from the CIA, Cons Op, and Army intelligence reports. Out of a

  hundred and thirty-five potential Soviet defectors who had not come over to

  the West and whose current whereabouts were unknown she had chosen eight for

  priority consideration.

  Michael looked at the fist, put it down and slowly turned to her. "This has

  been a rotten day. It's no time for jokes."

  "rm not joking, Mikhail," said Jenna.

  "There's not an armaments expert or a bigb-ranldng military man or even an

  atomic scientist here. These are doctors, specialists-old men now, none of

  whom was remotely connected with any sort of strategic planning or nuclear

  strike capabilities."

  "Parsifal needs no such connections."

  "Then maybe I wasn't clear about what those documents say," Havelock sa
id.

  "They spell out a series of nuclear moves-first and second strikes,

  interceptor counterstrikes, ter-

  554 ROBERT LUDLUM

  rftorfal neutralization and automated reclamatfon-detailed strategies that

  could only be conceived and negotiated by experts."

  "Matthias didn't carry around such details in his head, yoeve said as

  much."

  "Of course not, which is why I'm going after the men on the Contingency

  Committees-one in particular. But Parsifal did. He had to have those

  projections available to him. They were chips, his bargaining points in

  their insane game."

  "Then someone is missing," insisted Jenna, walking around the desk, then

  suddenly turning to face Havelock. "Who spoke for the PeopWs Republic? Who

  bargained China's position? Who gave its projections, its strategic

  details? According to your theory, there has to be a third negotiator."

  "No, there doesn't. Their combined sources would be enough to build a

  totally convincing case for a China strategy. It's common knowledge in

  intelligence circles that if U.S. and Soviet penetration of the PRC

  arsenals were linked up, we'd know more about China!s nuclear capabilities

  than anyone in Peking."

  "A convincing cme?"

  "Totally."

  "Combined sources, Mikhail? Why?"

  Havelock studied Jenna's face, gradually understanding what she was trying

  to say. "One source," he said quietly. "Why not?"

  The telephone rang, its strident signal producing an abrupt tightness in

  Michael's throat. He reached for it; the President of the United States was

  on the line, his first words as ominous as any Havelock had ever heard.

  "The Soviets know about Matthias. There's no way to tell their next move."

  "Parsifal?" asked Michael, with no breath in him.

  "They can smell him, and what they smell is flaring their nostrils. They're

  close to panic."

  "How did you find out?"

  "They reached one of our high diplomatic personnel. They told him that they

  were prepared to expose Matthias. The only hope we've. got now is that the

  man they contacted is one of the best we've got. They respect him; he could

  be our

  THE PARSIFAL MOSMC555

  single hope for containment. I'm bringing him on board; he's taking

  Bradford's place. He's got to be told everything, understand everything."

  "Who is be?" "A man named Pierce. Arthur Pierce."

  33

  The paminyatchik sat in the underground strategy room of the White House as

  the President of the United States and two of the nation~s most influential

  men briefed him. The conference had taken precedence over all of Charles

  Berquist!s prior appointments and obligations. It bad so far lasted nearly

  three hours, the incredulous undersecretary of State for the U.N. delegation

  rapidly taking brief notes, his intelligent gray eyes conveying a deep

  awareness of impending catastrophe, yet,behind that sense a mind that was

  obviously in complete control, seeking answers, avoiding panic.

  The tension was electric, intermittently broken by expressions of courtesy

  and respect. Arthur Pierce could not be called a friend of either the

  President or Addison Brooks, but neither was he a stranger. He was a

  professional with whom both men had worked, and in whom both had

  confidence. They remembered with gratitude his penetrating analyses in

  previous crises. As for General Malcolm Halyard, "Tightrope" had met Major

  Pierce in Saigon years ago, and was so impressed with his performance there

  that be bad cabled the Pentagon recommending that the War College make a

  serious appraisal of the major's potential for permanent, as opposed to

  reserve, status.

  Despite these extremely favorable appraisals, the outstanding

  citizen-soldier had chosen civilian status, albeit gov-

  556

  TnE PARsrFAL Mosmc557

  ernment-oriented. And since, to its dismay, the military establishment was

  frequently part of the government, the word had gone out: an exceptional man

  was available and looking for challenging work; someone should come up with

  something before the corporate headhunters descended on him. Washington

  needed all the genuine talent it could find.

  It had happened so easily, so logically in its arithmetic: one plus one

  plus one. People became steps and the steps led to a high place. An elderly

  career officer at State said be just happened to be at a dinner party in

  Alexandria where his military host mentioned Pierce to him. Naturally, the

  career officer felt compelled to mention Pierce's name at a conference

  attended by Addison Brooks. State was perpetually scouting for that rare

  man with proven abilities who also bad the potential for further

  intellectual growth. Arthur Pierce was summoned for an interview, which

  evolved into a lengthy lunch with the aristocratic statesman. This, in

  turn, led to an offer of employment, an entirely feasible decision in Iigbt

  of the record.

  The mole was in place. There bad in fact been no dinner party in

  Alexandria, no host who bad discussed in uniquely Battering terms an

  outstanding soldier from Saigon. It did not matter; others were discussing

  him; Brooks bad verified that. A dozen corporations were about to make

  offers to the brilliant young man, so Addison Brooks spoke first.

  As the years went by, the decision to recruit Arthur Pierce could only be

  applauded. He was an outstanding talent with an increasingly apparent

  ability to comprehend and counter Soviet maneuvers, especially in

  face-to-face confrontations. There were, of course, specialists who studied

  Izvestia and the various Russian journals and communiqu6s to interpret

  often obscure Soviet positions, but where Pierce was most effective was at

  the conference table, whether in Helsinki, Vienna of Geneva. At times his

  perceptions were uncanny; he frequently seemed to be ten steps ahead of the

  spokesmen sent by Moscow, preparing counterproposals before the Soviet

  position had even been made clear, thus giving the U.S. team the advantage

  of an immediate response. His presence was increasingly sought by

  upper-level diplomats until the Inevitable took place: be was brought into

  Matthias's orbit, and the Secretary of State lost little time making Arthur

  Pierce an upper-level diplomat himself.

  558 ROBERT LUDLUM

  The paminyatchik had arrived. An infant, genetically selected in Moscow and

  sent covertly into the heartland of America, was in place after a lifetime

  of preparation, and at this moment he was being addressed by the President

  of the United States.

  "You now have the whole ungodly picture,'Mr. Undersecretary." Berquist

  stopped as a painful memory flooded his mind. "It!s strange using that

  title," he continued softly. "Only days ago another undersecretary sat at

  this same dais."

  "I hope I can contribute even a fraction of what he did," said Pierce,

  studying his notes. "Me fact that he was killed is appalling. Emory was a

  friend of mine ... he didn't have many friends."

  "He said the same thing about himself," observed Addison Brooks. "And about

  you."

>   "Me?"

  "Mat you were his friend."

  "I'm flattered.-

  "You might not have been at the time," said General Halyard. "You were one

  of nineteen people he was looking into."

  "In what way?"

  "He was trying to find someone on the fifth floor of State who might have

  been out of the country, who might have been at the Costa Brava," explained

  the President.

  "The man who later used the Ambiguity code?" asked Pierce, frowning.

  "Thaes right."

  "How did my name come up? Emory never told me, never called me."

  "Under the circumstances," said the ambassador, "he couldnI. Several query

  responses between you and Washington during that week had been misplaced.-

  I don't have to tell you what a shock it was to him at first. They were

  found, of course."

  "Those misfilings are a constant irritant," said Pierce, going back to his

  notes, checking off items with his gold-plated ball-point pen. "I don't

  even know that there's a solution. The volume of traffic is simply too

  great and there are too few people cleared for the material at that level."

  The undersecretary circled a note, adding as an afterthought, "On the other

  hand, I'd rather put up with the irritation than take the

  THE PARSIFAL MOSAIC559

  chance that some of those confldential memoranda might get out."

  "How much of what you've learned here in this room do you think the Soviets

  know?" Berquist asked, his Nordic face set, his eyes hard and level, the

  muscles in his jaws pulsating.

  "Less than I've ' learned here in this room but probably more than we

  suspect. ne Russians are so damned elliptical. What's more, they're working

  themselves up into a frenzy. I can't form a judgment until I've had a

  chance to study those-incredible documents."

  "False documents," said Halyard emphatically. "Agreements between two

  madmen, thaeswhatthey are."

  "I'm not sure either Moscow or Peking would believe that, General," said

  Pierce, shaking his head. "One of those madmen is Anthony Matthias, and the

  world isn't ready to accept him as insane."

  "Because it doesn't want to," interrupted Brooks. "It!s afraid to."

  "That's right, Sir," agreed the undersecretary of State. "But apart from

 

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