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Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt

Page 79

by The Parcifal Mosaic [lit]


  'The Secretary of State wants you to know that when the time comes you will

  be summoned and made his chief executive officer, all controls in your

  hands. But because of your superb reputation in the field of nuclear

  tactics, there can!t be even a hint of any association between you. If

  anyone ever asks you if you know the Secretary of State, you must say you

  do not. That's also part of the rules.'" Jenna put the note pad down on her

  lap. "That's it Decker's ego was thoroughly flattered, and by his lights

  his place in history was assured."

  "Nothing else was needed," said Havelock, straightening himself up in the

  chair. "Did you write that out so I can read it?"

  "I write more clearly in English than I do in Czech. Why?-

  "Because I want to study it-over and over and over again. The man who spoke

  those words is Parsifal, and somewhere in the past I've beard that man

  speak before."

  "Go back over the years, Mikhail," said jenna, sitting forward, raising the

  note pad and flipping the pages. "I'll go back with you. Nowl It's not

  impossible. A Russian who speaks English rapidly, clipping his words. It's

  there. That's what Decker said. 'Clipped and rushed,' those were his words.

  How many such men can you have known?"

  "Lees do it." Havelock got up from the desk as jenna tore off the two pages

  that contained her notes on the call to Thomas Decker. Michael came around

  and took them from her. "Men I know who've met Matthias. We'll start with

  this year and work backwards. Write down every name I come up with."

  "Why not do it geographically? City by city. You can elimm inate some

  quickly, concentrate on the others."

  "Association," he added. "We scratch Barcelona and Madrid; we never touched

  the Soviets.... Belgrade-a river warehouse on the Sava, the attach6 from

  the Russian consulate, Vasili Yankovitch. He was with Anton in Paris."

  "Yankovitch," said jenna, writing.

  "And Ilitch Borin, visiting professor at the University of

  TnE PARsiFAL MosAxc623

  Belgrade; we had drinks, dinner. He knew Matthias from the cultural exchange

  conferences."

  "Borin."

  "No one else in Belgrade.... P6gue. There must be at least a dozen men in

  Prague. The Soviets are crawling in Prague."

  "Their names? Start alphabetically."

  The names came, some rapidly, others slowly, some strikhig chords of

  possibility, others completely improbable. Nevertheless, Jerma wrote them

  all down, prodding Michael, forcing him to jolt his memory, one name

  leading to another.

  Krakow. Vienna. Paris. London. New York. Washington.

  The months became a year, then two, and finally three. The list grew as

  Havelock probed, pushing his conscious, permitting the free association of

  his subconscious, digging, straining, forcing his mind to function as if it

  were a finely tuned instrument. And again the sweat broke out on his fore-

  bead, his pulse oddly quickening as he reached the end of his energies.

  "God, rm tired," said Michael quietly, staring at the beveled windowpane

  where over an hour ago two faces bad appedred, one replacing the other,

  both killers, both from the Costa Brava. Or were they?

  "You have thirty-nine names," said Jerma, coming to him, touching the back

  of his neck, massaging it gently. "Sit down and study them, study the

  telephone conversation. Find Parsifal, Mikhail."

  "Do any match the names on your list? I thought of that when I mentioned

  Ilitch Borin; he's a doctor of philosophy. Is there anyone?"

  No."

  "I'm sorry."

  "So am V

  "He hasn't called. Rostov hasn't called."

  I know."

  "I said an hour, the deadline was an hour." Havelock looked at his watch.

  nes thirty-four minutes past the deadline."

  "There could be mechanical troubles in Moscow. It would be nothing new."

  "Not for him. He's pulled in the white contact, he doesn't want to

  acknowledge."

  624 RoBEnT LuDLum

  "How often have you stretched a deadline? Waiting until the one who

  expected your call was filled with anxiety, his defenses eroded."

  "He knows my dossier too well for that." Michael tamed to her. "I have to

  make a decision. If I'm right, Pierce can7t be allowed off that island. If

  I'm wrong they'll think I've crashed, gone over the edge. Berquist won't

  have any choice, hell have to remove me."-

  "Not necessarily."

  "Of course necessarily. I'm seeing monsters In dark closets, wasting

  valuable hours on delusions. That's not a man you want giving orders. My

  God, Arthur Piercel The most valuable asset we bave-if we have him."

  "Only you know what you did see."

  "It was night, a night that was racking me. Look through that chnic file.

  Is that a rational man talking or thinking? What was he seeing? . . . I

  need one word, one -sentence from Rostov."

  "Wait, Mikhail," said jenna, touching his arm and urging him back to the

  armchair. "You still have time. Study the list of names, the words spoken

  to Decker. It may happen for you. A name, a voice, a phrase. It could

  happen."

  Scholars. Soldiers. Lawyers. Doctors. Attacb6s. Diplomats.... Defectors.

  All Soviets who at one time or another had direct contact with Anthony

  Matthias. Havelock pictured each man, each face, his inner ear hearing

  dozens of voices speaking in English, matching the voices with the faces,

  hstening for phrases that were spoken rapidly, words that were clipped,

  consonants harsh. It was maddening, faces and voices intermingling, lips

  moving, suddenly no sound followed by shouts. You will be mentioned

  prominently and frequently. Did he say that, would he say that? You will be

  summoned ... bow many times had that phrase been used? So many. But who

  used it? WhoP

  An hour passed, then most of another and a second pack of cigarettes with

  it. The expired deadline for Moscow was approaching the final deadline for

  Poole's Island. A decision-the decision-would have to be made. Nothing was

  forgotten, only submerged, eyes straying to watches as the inner search for

  Parsifal reached a frightening level of intensity.

  "I can't find himl" cried Michael, pounding his hand on

  THE PARsiFAL MosAic625

  the coffee table. "Hes here, the words are here, but I can't find himl"

  The telephone rang. Rostov? Havelock shot up from the chair, staring at it,

  motionless. He was drained, and the thought of finding the resources to

  fence verbally with the Soviet intelligence officer eight thousand miles

  away drained him further. The abrasive bell sounded again. He went to the

  phone and picked it up as Jenna watched him.

  "Yes?" he said quietly, marshaling his thoughts for the opening moves on

  both sides.

  "It is your friend from Kennedy Airport who no longer has his weapon-2'

  "Where's Rostov? I gave you a deadline."

  "It was met. Listen to me carefully. I'm calling from a phone booth on

  Eighth Avenue and must keep my eyes on the street. The call came through a

  half hour ago. Fortunately, I took it, as my superior had an engagement for

  the evening. He will expect to find me
when he returns."

  "What are you driving at?"

  "Rostov is dead. He was found at nine-thirty in the moming, Moscow time,

  after repeated calls failed to rouse him."

  "How did he die?"

  "Four bullets in the bead."

  "Oh, Christl Have they any idea who killed him?"

  "The rumor is Voermaya Kontra Razvedka, and I, for one, believe it. There

  have been many such rumors lately, and if a man like Rostov can be taken

  out, then I am too old, and must call from a phone booth. You are fools

  here, but it's better to live with fools than lie among jackals who will

  rip your throat open if they don't care for the way you laugh or drink."

  At the meeting this afternoon ... something I didn't understand . . . An

  intelligence officer from the KGB made contact . . . speculated on the

  identity . . . Arthur Pierce, while awkwardly smoking a cigarette on a

  deserted runway.

  I Rostov didn't speculate. He knew. A collection of fanatics in a branch

  called the VKR, the Voennaya ... He'll break it open ... A fellow killer

  from the Costa Brava.

  Had Pierce's call encompassed more than the death of a paminyatchik? Had he

  demanded the execution of a man in Moscow? Four bullets in the head. It had

  cost Rostov's life,

  626 ROBERT LUDLUM

  but it could be the proof be needed. Was It conclusive? Could anything be

  conclusive?

  "Code name Hammer-zero-two," said Michael, thinking, reaching. "Does it

  mean anything to you?"

  "A part of it possibly, not all of it."

  "What part?"

  "The 'hammer.' It was used years ago, and was restricted. Then it was

  abandoned, I believe. Hammarskj6ld, Dag Hammarskjbld. The United Nations."

  "Je&=1... Zero, zero ... two. A zero is a circle a circle. A councill Two

  . . . double, twice, second. The second voice in the delegationl That's

  itl"

  "As you gather," interrupted the Russian, "I must cross over."

  "Call the New York office of the FBI. Go there. III get word to them."

  "That is one place I will not go. It is one of the things I can tell you."

  "Then keep moving and call me back in thirty minutes. I have to move

  quickly."

  "Fools or jackals. Where is the choice?"

  Havelock nressed the adiacent button on the phone, disconnecting the line.

  He looked up at Tenna. "It's Pierce. Hammer-zero-two. I told him -we all

  told 'him-about Rostov closing in on the Voennaya. He bad Rostov killed.

  It's him."

  "He's trapped," said Jenna. "Yo&ve got him." "

  "I've got him. Ive got Ambiguity, the man who called us dead at Col des

  Moulinets. . . . And when I get him to a clinic III shoot him into space.

  Whatever be knows III know." Michael dialed quickly. "The President,

  please. Mr Cross calling."

  "You must be very quiet, Mikhail," said Jenna, approaching the desk. "Very

  quiet and precise. Remember, it will be an extraordinary shock to him and,

  above all, he must believe you."

  Havelock nodded. "Tbaes the hardest part. Thanks. I was about to plunge in

  with conclusions first. You~re right. Take him up slowly.... Mr.

  President?"

  "Vi7hat is it?" asked Berquist anxiously. "What's happened?'

  "I have something to tell you, sir. It will take a few

  TaE PAiRsrFAL Mosmc627

  minutes, and I want you to listen very closely to what I've got to say."

  "All right. Let me get on another phone; there are people in the next

  room.... By the way, did Pierce reach you?"

  "What?"

  "Arthur Pierce. Did he call you?"

  "What about Pierce?"

  "He telephoned about an hour ago; he needed a second clearance. I told him

  about your call to me, that you both wanted to know if I'd brought up the

  Randolph Medical Center business-lousy goddamned mess-and I said I had,

  that we all knew about it."

  "Please, Mr. Presidentl Go back. What, exactly, did you say?"

  "What's the matter with you?"

  "What did be say to you?"

  "About what?"

  "Just tell mel First, what you said to biml"

  "Now, just a minute, Havelock-"

  "Tell mel You don't have time, none of us has timel What did you say?"

  The urgency was telegraphed. Berquist paused, then answered calmly, a

  leader aware of a subordinate's alarm, not understanding it but willing to

  respect its source. "I said that you'd phoned me and specifically asked if

  I bad brought up the Randolph Medical Center at the meeting this afternoon.

  I said that I had, and that you seemed relieved that everyone knew about

  it."

  "What did he say?"

  "He seemed confused, frankly. I think,he said 'I see,' then asked me if

  you'd given any reason for wanting to know."

  "Know what?"

  "About the Medical- What is wrong with you?"

  "What did you say?"

  "That I understood you were both concerned, although I wasn't sure why."

  "What was his reply?"

  "I don't think he had one.... Oh, yes. He asked if you7d made any progress

  with the man you've got at Bethesda."

  "Which wasn't until tomorrow and he knew id"

  "What?"

  628 ROBERT LunLum

  "Mr. President, I don' t have time to explain and you can't lose a moment.

  Has Pierce gotten into that vault, that room?"

  "I don't know."

  "Stop biml He's the molel"

  "You're insanel"

  "Goddamn it, Berquist, you can have me shot, but right now I'm telling youl

  He's got cameras you don't know aboutl In rings, watches, cuff finksl Stop

  himl Take himl Strip him and check for capsules, cyanidel I can't give that

  order but you cani You have tol Nowl"

  "Stay by the phone," said the President of the United States. "I may have

  you shot."

  Havelock got out of the chair, if for no other reason than the need to

  move, to keep in motion. The dark mists were closing in again; he had to

  get out from under them. He looked at jenna, and her eyes told him she

  understood.

  "Pierce found me. I found him, and he found me."

  "He's trapped."

  "I could have killed him at Costa Brava. I wanted to kill him, but I

  wouldn't listen. I wouldn't listen to myself."

  "Don't go back. You've got him. You're within the time span..

  Michael walked away from the desk, away from the dark mist that pursued

  him. "I don't pray," he whispered. "I don't believe. I'm praying now, to

  what I don't know."

  The telephone rang and he lunged for it. "Yes?"

  "He's gone. He ordered the patrol boat to take him back to Savannah."

  "Did he get into that room?"

  "No."

  "Thank Christl"

  "He's got something else," said the President in a voice that was barely

  audible.

  Vnat?"

  "The complete psychiatric Me on Matthias. It says everything. 1.

  37

  The police swept through the streets of Savannah, patrol cars roaring out to

  the airport and screeching into bus and train stations. Car-rental agencies

  were checked throughout the city and roadblocks set up on the major highways

  and backeountry routes-north to Augusta, south to Saint Marys, west to Macon

 
and Valdosta. The man's description was radioed to all units-municipal,

  county, state-and the word spread down through the ranks from the highest

  levels of authority: Find him, Find the nwn with the streak of white in his

  hair. If seen, approach with extrenze caution, weapons drawn. If moventents

  are unexpected, shoot. Shoot to kill.

  Ile manhunt was unparalleled in numbers and intensity,

  the federal government assuring the state, the cities and

  townships that all costs would be home by Washington. Men

  off duty were called in by precincts and station houses; ve

  hicles in for minor repairs were put back on the streets, and

  private cars belonging to police personnel were issued mag

  netic, circling roof lamps and sent out to prowl the dark

  country roads. Everywhere automobiles and pedestrains were

  stopped; anyone even vaguely approaching the man's de

  scription was politely requested to remove his hat if he was

  wearing one, and flashlights roamed over faces and hairlines,

  searching for a hastily, imperfectly dyed streak of white hair

  rising above a forehead. Hotels, motels and rural inns were

  629

  630 RoBERT LuDLum

  descended upon; registers were checked for late arrivals, desk clerks

  questioned, the interrogators alert to the possibility of evasion or

  deception. Farmhouses where lights remained on were entered-courteously, to

  be sure-but the intruders were aware that the inhabitants could be hostages,

  that an unseen child or wife might be held captive somewhere on the premises

  by the man with the streak of white in his hair. Rooms and bams and silos

  were searched, nothing left to speculation.

  Morning came, and weary thousands reported back to points of dispatch,

  angry, frustrated, bewildered by the goveminent's ineffectual methods. For

  no photographs or sketches were issued; the only name given was "Mr.

  Smith." The alarm was still out, but the blitzkrieg search was essentially

  over, and the professionals knew it. The man with the streak of white in

  his hair had slipped through the net. He could be blond or bald or gray by

  now, limping with a cane or a crutch, and dressed in tattered clothes, or

  in the uniform of the police or the military, without a vestige of his

  former appearance.

  The newspapers carrying early-moming stories of the strange, massive hunt

 

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