Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt
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to advancement, and further advancement, and contact with civilian and
military authorities. He would serve out an appropriate amount of time and
return not to the Midwest but to Washington, where word of his record and
talents would be spread. Companies would be lined up, anxious to employ
him, but the government would step in. He was to- accept.
But first the army-and he was to give it everything he had, he was to
continue to be the best. His "father" and "mother" had thrown hun a
farewell party on the farm, and invited all his friends, including most of
the old Boy Scout Troop 37. And it was a farewell party in more than one
sense. His "father" and "mother" told him at the end of the night that they
would not see him again. They were getting old and they had done their job:
him. And he would make them proud. Besides, their talents were needed
elsewhere. He understood; the cause was everything.
For the first time since he was thirteen, he had cried that night. But it
was permitted-and, besides, they were tears of joy.
All those years, thought Arthur Pierce, glancing in the cheap motel mirror
at the fringe of gray and the frayed collar around his neck. They had been
worth it; the proof would be found in the next few hours.
The waiting had begun. The reward would be a place in history.
Michael opened his eyes, a sea of dark brown leather confronting him,
moisture everywhere, the heat oppressive. He turned over and raised his
head, suddenly aware that it was not sunlight but the glow of a distant lamp
that washed the
W ROBERT LunLum
room. He was drenched with sweat. It was night, and he was not ready for
night. What had happened?
"Dobi~ den." The greeting floated over to him.
"What time is it?" he asked sitting up on the couch.
"Ten past seven," said Jex;;a, who was sitting at the desk. "You slept a
little over three hours. How do you feel?"
"I don't know. Left out, I think. What's going on?"
"Not a great deal. As you said, we're holding. Did you know that the lights
on these buttons actually go on before the telephone rings? Only a
spht-second, but they do."
"les not comforting. Who called?"
"Very serious, bewildered men reporting nothing, reporting that they had
nothing to report. Several asked how long they were to keep up what they
referred to as their 'reconnaissance.' I said until they were told
otherwise."
"That says it."
"The photographs arrived."
"What ... P Oh, your list."
"Theyre on the coffee table. Look at them."
Havelock focused on the row of five grainy faces staring at him. He rubbed
his eyes and wiped the perspiration from his hairline, blinking. repeatedly
as he tried to concentrate. He began with the face on the far left; it
meant nothing to him. Then the next, and the next, and the ... next.
"Him," he said, not knowing why he said it.
"Who?"
'The fourth one. Who is he?"
jenna glanced down at a paper in front of her. "It's a very old picture,
taken in 1948. The only one they could find. It's over thirty years old."
"Who is he? Who was he?"
"A man named Kalya2in. Alexei Kalya2ln. Do you recognize him?" jenna got up
from the desk.
"Yes ... no. I don't know.-
'Ies an old photograph, Mikhail. Look at it. Study it. The eyes, the chin,
the shape of the mouth. Where? Who?"
"I don't know. It's there ... and it's not there. What did he do?"
"He was a clinical psychotherapist," said jenna, reading. "He wrote
definitive studies evaluating the effects on men of the stnw of combat or
prolonged periods of enduring unna-
Tim PAnsrFAL MosAic647
tural conditions. His expertise was used by the KGB; he became what you call
here a strategist, but with a difference. He screened information sent in to
the KGB by people in the field, looking for deviations that n-dght reveal
either double agents or men no longer capable of functioning in their jobs."
"An evaluator. A flake with a penchant for overlooking the obvious."
"I don!t understand you."
"Gunslingers. They never spot the gunslingers."
"I still don't know what you're talking about."
"I don~t know him. It's a face like so many other faces, so many dossiers.
God, the facesr
"But there's somethingl"
"Maybe, I'm not sure."
"Keep looking at it. Concentrate."
'Coffee. Is there any coffee?"
"I forgot," said Jenna. "The first rule upon waking Is coffee. Black and
too strong. You are Czech, Mikhail." She went to the table behind the
couch, where an accommodating guard had plugged in the silver pot.
"The first rule," repeated Havelock, suddenly disturbed. 'The flnt mle?"
"WhatP"
"Where are your notes on Decker's telephone call?"
"You had them."
"Where are they?"
"Down there. On the table."
"WhereP"
"Under the last photograph. On the right."
Get yourself a drink. You know the rules.
Michael threw the photograph of an unknown face off the table, and gripped
the two notebook pages. He stared at them, shifting them back and forth.
.0h, my Godl The rules, the goddamned rulesl"
Havelock got up and lurched toward the desk, his legs unsteady, his balance
fragile.
"What is it?" asked Jenna, alarmed, the cup in her hand.
"Deckerr shouted Michael. "Where are the notes on Decker?"
"Right there. On the left. The pad."
Havelock riffled through the pages, his hand trembling
MRoBFRT LUDLUM
again, his eyes seeing and not seeing, looking for the words. He found them.
"'An odd accent,"' he whispered. "'An odd accent,' but what accent?"
He grabbed the phone, barely able to control his finger as he dialed. "Get
me Lieutenant Commander Decker, you've got his number on your index."
"Mikhail, get hold of yourself."
"Shut upl" The elongated buzz signified the ring; the wait was intolerable.
"Hello?" said the tentative voice of a woman.
"Commander Decker, please."
"rm ... terribly sorry, he's not here."
"He's there to mel This is Mr. Cross calling. Get him on the phone."
Twenty seconds elapsed, and Michael thought his head would explode.
"What is it, Mr. Cross?" Decker asked.
"You said an 'odd accent.' What did you mean?"
"I beg your pardon?"
'The callf The call you got from Matthias, from the one who said he was
speaking for Matthiasl When you said he had an odd accent, did you mean
foreign, Russian?"
"No, not at all. It was high-pitched and very Anglicized. Almost British,
but not British."
"Good night, Commander," said Michael, hanging up.
Pour yourself a drink ... you know the rules here.... Come now, we're both
out. Freshen yours and do mine while yotere at it. That's also part of the
rules, remember?
Havelock picked up the phone again, pulling the list of numbers in front of
him. He dialed. The waiting was almost a pleasure, but it was too short; he
needed time to adjust. Poole'
s Islandl
"I'his is Mr. Cross. Let me have Security, please."
Two short bums were heard, and the officer on duty answered, "Checkpoint."
"This is Cross. Executive order, priority-zero. Please confirm."
"Start counting," said the voice.
"One, two, three, four, five, six-"
"Okay. Scanners match. What is it, Mr. Crossr
TaE PAmiFAL MosAic649
"Who was the officer who took an emergency leave approximately six weeks
ago?"
The silence was interminable; when the reply came, it was a matter-of-fact
response by a knowledgeable man. "Your information's incorrect, Mr. Cross.
There's been no request for an emergency leave from the officer corps or
anyone else. No one's left the island."
"Thank you, Security."
Alexander the Great ... Raymond Alexanderl
FOX HOIIOWI
38
"Ies him," said Michael, leaning over the desk, his hand still gripping the
phone. "He's Parsifal. Raymond Alexander."
'Alexander?" jenna took several steps away from the table and stared at
Havelock, shaking her head slowly.
"It has to bel It's in the words-~the rules.' 'One of the rules, part of
the rules.' Always rules; his life is a series of unbreakable rulesl The
odd accent wasn't foreign, wasret Russian. It was thirties Harvard with
Alexander's pretentious emphasis. He's used it in a thousand lecture halls,
hundreds of debates. Points made quickly, retorts thrown in unexpectedly,
thrust and parry. Thaes Alexander]"
"As you've described him," said jenna calmly but firmly, "there's an
enormous contradiction I don't think you can explain. Are you prepared to
accuse him of knowing the identity of a Soviet mole and doing nothing about
it? Especially one so dangerous as an undersecretary of State?"
"No, I can't explain it, but he can. He will. He sent me to Poole's Island,
telling me a bullshit story about an army officer on an emergency leave who
let it slip to his wife. There wasn't any such person; no emergency leaves
were taken."
"Perhaps he was protecting another source."
"Then why the elaborate lie? Why not a simple refusal to disclose? No, he
wanted me to believe it, made me give my word to protect him-knowing I
would protect himl"
650
THE PAwiFAL Mosmc 651
"For what purpose?" said jenna, coming to the desk. 'Why did he tell you in
the first place? To have you kiUed?"
"Let him answer that." Havelock picked up the phone, pressing the house
intercom button. "I want a car and an escort to follow me. It's about an
hour's drive from here. Right away." He replaced the phone and, for a
moment, looked at it, then shook his head. "No," he said.
"The President?" asked jenna.
"I'm not going to call him. Not yet. The state he's in he'd send in a
battalion of commandos. We won't learn the truth that way. Cornered like
that, Alexander might blow his brains out."
"If you're right, what more is there to learn?"
"Whyl" said Michael furiously, opening the top drawer and taking out the
Llama automatic. "And how," he added, checking the magazine and cracking it
back in place. "That large contradiction you mentioned. His beloved
republic."
"I'm going with you."
"No.-
"Yesl This time you have no right to refuse me. My life is in this room-my
death as well. I have a right to be there."
~'You may have a right but you~re not going. That son of a bitch set you
up, he marked you for extinction."
"I have to know why."
"IT tell you." Michael started to leave.
"Suppose you can't1" cried jenna, blocking him. "Yes, Mikhail, look at mel
Suppose you do not come back-it's possible, you know. Would you finally rob
me of my sanity?"
"We've been out there. There are no alarms, no dogs or guards. Besides, be
doesn't expect me, I'll come back-with himl ... What the hell do you mean,
your 'sanity7'
"I lost you once-I loved you and lost youl Do you think I can take even the
risk of losing you again and never knowing why? How much do you w4ant from
me?"
"I want you to live."
"I can't five, I won't live unless you're with mel I've tried it-it simply
doesn't appeal to me. Whatever's out there is for both of us, not you
alone. It's not fair, Mikhail, and you know it."
"I don't give a damn about being fairl" He reached for her and pulled her
into his arms, aware of the gun in his band, wishing they were somewhere
else where there were no
MR OBERT LUDLUM
guns--ever. "I only care about you. I know what yoii~ve been through, what
I did to you. I want you here, where I'll know you're all right. I can't
risk you, don't you understand?"
"Because you love me?"
"So much ... so very much."
"Iben respect mel" cried Jenna, whipping her head back, her blond hair
swirling over her shoulders. "Damn you, Mikhail, respect mel"
Havelock looked at her, at the anger and the pleading in her eyes. So much
to make up for. "Come on," he said. "Let's get our coats. Lees go."
Jenna turned and went to the coffee table, where she picked up the
photographs, including the one on the floor. "All right," she said.
'Whyr asked Michael, gesturing at the pictures.
'%y notr she replied.
The man concealed high up In the darkness of the tall pine drove his spikes
deeper into the trunk, adjusting his harness to relax the pressure of the
straps. Suddenly, in the distance far below, he saw the beams of headlight;
streaking out of the tree-lined drive at Sterile Five. He raised the
infrared binoculars to his eyes with his right hand as his left pulled out
the radio from its holster. He brought it to his lips and pressed the
switch.
"Activity," he said. "Stay alert. Respond."
"North in touch" came the first reply.
"South also" was the second.
Pushing the open-channel radio into the leather collar around his throat,
the man focused the binoculars on the car emerging from the drive. It was
the Buick; he refined the focus, and the images beyond the windshield
sharpened.
"Ies our man and the woman," he said. "Turning north. les yours, North."
"Wre ready."
'South, take off and assume your alternate position."
"Leaving now. North, keep us posted. Let us know when you want relief."
"Will do."
"Hold itl There's a second car... les the Uncoln, two federals in the
front; I caet see in back. Now I can. No one else."
THE PAWIFAL MOSAIC653
"Ies an escort," said one of the two men in the automobile a mile and a
half north. "We'll wait till he passes."
"Give him plenty of room," ordered the man in the tree. "They're curious
people."
"Don1 worry."
The Buick reached the intersection and turned left, the Uncoln Continental
several hundred feet behind and following, a prowling behemoth protecting
its young. Both vehicles headed west.
Inside the dark repair shop of the gas station, a hissing sound accompanied
the lowering of the hyd
raulic lift; the engine of the descending car was
turned on and gunned. The driver raised his radio and spoke.
"South, theyve taken the B route. Head west on the parallel road and pick
us up six miles down."
"Heading across into west parallel," was the reply.
"Hurry," said North. "They are."
The white fence that marked the start of Alexandees property shone in the
glare of the headlights. Seconds later the floodlights beaming on the trees
scattered throughout the immense front acreage could be seen on the left,
the wood and stone house beyond. Havelock then saw what he hoped he would
see. There were no cars in the circular drive, very few lights in the
windows. He slowed down and pulled the microphone from its dashboard recess.
'Escort, this is it," he said, depressing the transmission switch. "Stay up
here on the road. There are no visitors and I want the man we're seeing to
think we're alone.*
"Suppose you need usP" asked Escort.
"I won't."
'Ilat's not good enough. Sorry, Sir."
'All right, youll hear me. I'm not shy; III flre a couple of shots."
"nat's good enough, as long as we're down there at the -house."
"I want you up here on the road."
"Sorry, again. We'll leave the Abraham up here, but well be down there,
right outside. On foot."
Michael shrugged, replacing the microphone; it was pointINS to argue. He
snapped off the headlights and turned into
&54 RoBERT LUDLUM
the drive, idled the engine, and let the B nick glide to within thirty feet
of the entrance. The car came to a stop and he looked at Jenna. "Ready?"
"I think more than my life. Or death. He wanted both." She slipped the
photographs under her coat. "Ready," she said.
They got out, closed the doors quietly, and walked up the broad steps to
the huge paneled oak door. Havelock rang the bell;- again the waiting was
unbearable. The door opened and the uniformed maid stood there, startled.
"Good evening. les Enid, isn't it?"
"Yes, sk. Good evening, sir. I didn't know Mr. Alexander was expecting
guests."
'We're old friends," said Michael, his hand on Jenna's arm, as both stepped
inside. "Invitations aren't required. It's part of the rules."
"I've never heard that one."
"Ws fairly new. Is Mr. Alexander where he usually Is at this hour? In his