He fell back on the cot, swallowing repeatedly tolessen the burning in his throat, and moved his arm incircles trying to lessen the pain of the . . . wound?Yes, a wound, a gunshot! The realization jarred hismemory; a dinner party had turned into abattleground filled with hysteria. Blinding lights andsudden jolts of pain had been accompanied by stridentvoices bombarding him, incessant echoes pounding inhis ears as he tried desperately to repel the piercingassaults. Then there had been moments of calm, thedrone of a single voice in the mists. Converse closedhis eyes, pressing his lids tightly together with all hisstrength as another realization struck him
and disturbed him deeply. That voice in the swirlingmists was his voice; he had been drugged, and heknew he had given up secrets.
He had been drugged before, a number of timesin the North Vietnamese camps, and as always therewas the sickening feeling of numbed outrage. Hismind had been stripped and violated, his voice madeto perform obscenities against the last vestiges of hiswill.
And, again as always, there was the empty holein his stomach, a vacuum that ran deep andproduced only weakness. He felt starved andprobably was. The chemicals usually inducedvomiting as the intestines rejected the unnaturalsubstance. It was strange, he reflected, opening hiseyes and following the moving shafts of light, butthose memories from years ago evoked the sameself-protective instincts that had helped himthen so many years ago. He could not waste en-ergy; he had to conserve what strength he had.Regain new strength. Otherwise there was nothingbut the numbed outrage and neither his mind norhis body could do anything about it.
There was a sound across the room! Thenanother and another after that! The grating soundof sliding metal told him that a bolt was beingreleased; the sharp sound of a key followed by thetwisting of a knob meant that the door in the fardistant wall was about to be opened. It was, and ablinding burst of sunlight filled the cell. Converseshielded his eyes peering between his fingers. Theblurred, frazzled silhouette of a man stood in thedoorframe carrying a flat object. The figure walkedin and Joel, blinking, saw it was the chauffeur whohad electronically searched him in the driveway.
The uniformed driver crossed to the.table anddeftly lowered the flat object; it was a tray, itscontents covered by a cloth. It was only then thatConverse’s attention was drawn back to the sunlitdoorway. Outside, milling about in anxious contemptwas the pack of Dobermans, their shining black eyescontinually shifting toward the door, their lips curledteeth bared in unending quiet snarls.
“GutenMorgen, main Herr,” said Leifhelm’schauffeur, then shifting to English, "Anotherbeautiful day on the northern Rhine, no?’
“It’s bright out there, if that’s what you mean,”replied Joel, his hand still cupping his eyes. “Isuppose I should be grateful to be able to noticeafter last night.”
“Last night?” The German paused, then addedquietly, “It was two nights ago, Amerikaner. You’vebeen here for the past thirty-three hours.”
“Thirty?” Converse pushed himself up and swunghis legs over the side of the cot. Instantly he wasovercome by dizziness too much strength had beendrained. Oh Christ! Don’t waste movement. They’ll beback. The bastards! “You bastards,” he said out loudbut without any real emotion. Then for the first timehe realized he was shirtless, and noticed the bandageon his left arm between his elbow and his shoulder.It covered the gunshot wound. “Did somebody missmy head?” he asked.
“I’m told you inflicted the injury yourself. Youtried to kill General Leifhelm but shot yourself whenthe others were taking your gun away.”
“I tried to kill? With my nonexistent gun? Theone you made sure I didn’t have?”
“You were too clever for me, mein Herr.”
“What happens now?”
“Now? Now you eat. I have instructions from thedoctor. You begin with the Hafergrlitze how do yousay? the porridge.”
“Hot mush or cereal,” said Joel. “With skimmedor powdered milk. Then some kind of soft-boiledeggs taken with pills. And if it all goes down, a littleground meat, and if that stays down, a few spoonfulsof crushed turnips or potatoes or squash. Whatever’savailable.”
“How do you know this?” asked the uniformedman, genuinely surprised.
“It’s a basic diet,” said Converse cynically.“Variations with the territory and the supplies. I oncehad some comparatively good meals…. You’replanning to put me under again.”
The German shrugged. “I do what I’m told. Ibring you food. Here, let me help you.”
Joel looked up as the chauffeur approached thecot. “Under other circumstances I’d spit in yourgoddamned face. But if I did I wouldn’t have thatslight, slight possibility of spitting in it some othertime. You may help me. Be careful of my arm.”
“You are a very strange man, main Herr.”
“And you’re all perfectly normal citizens catchingthe early train to Larchmont so you can put downten martinis before going to the PTA meeting.”
“Was ist? I know of no such meeting. "
"They’re keeping it secret; they don’t want youto know. If I were you, I’d get out of town beforethey make you president.”
“Mich? President?”
“Just help me to the chair, like a good aleAryan boy, will you?’
“Hah, you are being amusing, ja?”
“Probably not,” said Converse, easing into thewooden chair. "it’s a terrible habit I wish I couldbreak.” He looked up at the bewildered German.“You see, I keep trying,” he said in utterseriousness.
Three more days passed, his only visitor thechauffeur accompanied by the sullen, high-strungpack of Dobermans. His well-searched suitcase wasgiven to him, scissors and a nail file removed fromthe traveling kit his electric razor intact. It wastheir way of telling him that his presence had beenremoved from Bonn, leaving him to painfullyspeculate about the life or death of ConnalFitzpatrick. Yet there was an inconsistency and, assuch, the basis for hope. No allusions were made tohis attache case, either with visual evidence thepage of a dossier, perhaps or through his briefexchanges with Leifhelm’s driver. The generals ofAquitaine were men of immense egos; if they hadthose materials in their possession, they would havelet him know it.
As to his conversations with the chauffeur, theywere lirnited to questions on his part anddisciplined pleasantries on the German’s part, noanswers at all at least, none that made any sense:
“How long is this going to go on? When am Igoing to see someone other than you?”
“There is no one here, sir, except the staff.General Leifhelm is away in Essen, I believe. Ourinstructions are to feed you well and restore yourhealth.”
Incommunicado. He was in solitary.
But the food was not like that given toprisoners anywhere else. Roasts of beef and lamb,chops, poultry and fresh fish; vegetables thatunquestionably had come directly from a nearbygarden. And wine which at first Joel was reluctantto drink, but when he did, even he knew it wassuperior.
On the second day, as much to keep fromthinking as from anything else, he had begun toperform mild exer
cises as he had done so many years ago. By thethird day he had actually worked up a sweat duringa running-in-place session, a healthy sweat, tellinghim the drugs had left his body. The wound on hisarm was still there, but he thought about it less andless. Curiously, it was not serious.
On the fourth day questions and reflections wereno longer good enough. Confinement and themaddening frustration of having no answers forcedhim to turn elsewhere, to the practical, to the mostnecessary consideration facing him. Escape.Regardless of the outcome the attempt had to bemade. Whatever plans Delavane and his disciples inAquitaine had for him, they obviously includedparading a drugless man more than likely a deadman with no narcotics in his system. Otherwise theywould have killed him at once, disposing of his bodyin any number of untraceable ways. He had done itbefore. Could he do it again?
He was not rotting in a rat-infested cell and therewas no terrible gunfire in the distant darkness, but itwas far more important that he succeed now than it
ever was eighteen years ago. And there was anextraordinary irony: eighteen years ago he hadwanted to break out and tell whoever would listen tohim about a madman in Saigon who sent countlesschildren to their deaths or worse, who left thosechildren to suffer broken minds and hollow feelingsfor the rest of their lives. Now he had to tell theworld about that same madman.
He had to get out. He had to tell the world what heknew.
Converse stood on the wooden chair, the shortcurtain pulled back, and peered between the blackmetal bars outside. His cabin, or cottage, orjailhouse, whatever it was, seemed to have beenlowered from above onto a clearing in the forest.There was a wall of tall trees and thick foliage as faras he could see in either direction, a dirt pathangling to the right beneath the window. Theclearing itself extended no more than twenty feet infront of the structure before the dense greenerybegan; he presumed it was the same on all sideshowit was from the other window to the left of the doorexcept that there was no path below, only a short,coarse stubble of brown grass. The two frontwindows were the only views he had. The rest of thisisolated jailhouse consisted of unbroken walls and asmall ceiling vent in the bathroom but no otheropenings.
All he could be certain of, since the chauffeur andthe
dogs and the warm meals were proof he was stillwithin the grounds of Leifhelm’s estate, was that theriver could not be far away. He could not see it, butit was there and it gave him hope more than hope,a sense of morbid exhilaration rooted in hismemory. Once before the waters of a river had beenhis friend, his guide, ultimately the lifeline that hadtaken him through the worst of his journey. Atributary of the Huong Khe south of Duc Tho hadrushed him silently at night under bridges and pastpatrols and the encampments of three battalions.The waters of the Rhine, like the currents of theHuong Khe years ago, would be his way out.
The multiple sounds of animal feet pounding theearth preceded the streaking dark coats of theDobermans as they raced belong the window,instantly stopping and crowding angrily in front ofthe door. The chauffeur was on his way with abreakfast no prisoner in isolation should expect.Joel climbed off the chair and quickly carried itback to the table, setting it in place and going to hiscot. He sat down, kicked off his shoes, and lay backon the pillow, his legs stretched out over therumpled blanket.
The bolt was slid back, the key inserted and theheavy knob turned; the door opened. As he didevery time he entered, the German pushed thecenter of the door with his right hand as hesupported the tray with his left. However thismorning he was gripping a bulging object in hisright hand, the blinding sunlight obscuring it forConverse. The man walked in and, more awkwardlythan usual, placed the tray on the table.
"I have a pleasant surprise for you, main Herr.I spoke with General Leifhelm on the telephone lastnight and he asked about you. I told him you wererecovering splendidly and that I had changed thebandage on your unfortunate injury. Then itoccurred to him that you had nothing to read andhe was very upset. So an hour ago I drove intoBonn and purchased three days of the InternationalHerald Tribune. ” The driver placed the rolled-upnewspapers next to the tray on the table.
But it was not the issues of the Herald Tribunethat Joel stared at. It was the German s neck andthe upper outside pocket of his uniform jacket. Forlooped around that neck and angled over to thatpocket was a thin silver chain, with the protrudingtop of a tubular silver whistle clearly visible againstthe dark fabric. Converse shifted his eyes to thedoor;
the Dobermans were sitting on their haunches, eachbreathing noisily and salivating, but, to all intents andpurposes, immobile. Converse remembered hisarrival at the general s monumental lair and thestrange Englishman who had controlled the dogs witha silver whistle.
"Tell Leifhelm I appreciate the reading material,but I’d be even more grateful if I could get out ofthis place for a few minutes. “
":la, with a plane ticket to the beaches in thesouth of France, rein?”
“For Christ’s sake, just to take a walk and stretchmy legs What’s the matter? Can’t you and thatdrooling band of mas tiffs handle one unarmed mangetting a little air? . . . No you’re probably toofrightened to try.” Joel paused, then added in aninsulting mock-Cerman accent. ”’I do vot I am tort.
The driver’s smile faded. “The other evening yousaid you would not apologise but instead break myneck. That was a joke. Do you understand? A jokeI find so amusing I can laugh at it.”
“Hey, come on,’ said Converse, changing his toneas he swung his legs off the cot and sat up. “You’reten years younger than I am and twenty timesstronger. I felt insulted and reacted stupidly, but ifyou think I’d raise a hand against you you’re out ofyour mind. I m sorry. You’ve been decent to me andI was stupid again.”
“la, you were stupid,” said the German withoutrancor “But also you were right. I do as I am told.And why not? It is a privilege to take orders fromGeneral Leifhelm. He has Been gut to me.”
“Have you been with him long?”
“Since Brussels. I was a sergeant in the FederalRepublic’s border patrols. He heard about myproblem and took an interest in my case. I wastransferred to the Brabant garrison and made hischauffeur.”
“What was your problem? I’m a lawyer, you know.”
Dhde charge was that I strangled a man With my “
"ha. He was trying to put a knife in mystomach and lower. He said I took advantage of hisdaughter. I took no advantage; it was not necessary.She was a whore it was in the clothes she wore, theway she walked es ist klar! The father was a pig!”
Joel looked at the man, at the cloudedmalevolence in his eyes. “I can understand GeneralLeifhelm’s sympathies,” he said.
“Now you know why I do as I am told.”
“Clearly.”
He is calling for his messages at noon. I shallask him about your walking. You understand thatone word from me and the Dobermans will rip yourbody from its bones.”
“Nice puppies,” said Converse, addressing thepack of dogs outside.
Noon came and the privilege was granted. Thewalk was to take place after lunch when the driverreturned to remove the tray. He returned, and afterseveral severe warnings Joel ventured outside, theDobermans crowding around him black nostrilsflared, white teeth glistening, bluish-red tonguesflattened out in anticipation. Converse lookedaround; for the first time he saw that the smallhouse was made of thick, solid stone. The uniquesquad began its constitutional up the path, Joelgrowing bolder as the dogs lost a degree of interestin him under the harsh admonitions of the Germans commands. They began racing ahead and regroup-ing in circles, snapping at one another but alwayswhipping their heads back or across at their masterand his prisoner. Converse walked faster.
“I used to jog a lot back home,” he lied.
“Was ist? "Jog’?”
“Run. It’s good for the circulation.”
“You run now, main Herr, you will have nocirculation. The Dobermans will see to it.”
“I’ve heard of people getting coronaries fromjogging too,” said Joel, slowing down, but notreducing the speed with which his eyes darted in alldirections. The sun was directly overhead; it was nohelp in determining direction.
The dirt path was like a marked single line in anintricate network of hidden trails. It was borderedby thick foliage, more often than not roofed bylow-hanging branches, then breaking open into shortstretches of wild grass that might or might not leadto other paths. They reached a fork, the leg to theright curving sharply into a tunnel of greenery. Thedogs instinctively raced into it but were stopped bythe chauffeur, who shouted commands in German.The Dobermans spun around, bouncing off eachother, and returned to the fork, then raced into thewider path on the left. It was an in
cline and they started up a steep hill, the treesshorter and less full, the bramble bush wilder,coarser, lower to the ground. Wind, thoughtConverse. A valley wind; a wind whipping up from atrough, a long narrow slice in the earth, the kind ofwind a pilot of a small plane avoided at the first signof weather. A river.
It was there. To his left
; they were traveling east.The Rhine was below, perhaps a mile beyond thelower line of tall trees. He had seen enough. Hebegan breathing audibly. The exhilaration inside himwas intense; he could have walked for miles. He wasback on the banks of the Huong Khe, the darkwatery lifeline that would take him away from theMekong cages and the cells and the chemicals. Hehad done it before he was going to do it again!
“Okay, Field Marshal,” he said to Leifhelm’sdriver, looking at the silver whistle in the German’spocket. “I’m not in as good shape as I thought I was.This is a mountain! Don’t you have any flat pasturesor grazing fields?”
“I do as I am told, mein Herr, ” replied the man,grinning. “Those are nearer the main house. This iswhere you must walk.”
“This is where I say thank you and no thank you.Take me back to my little grass shack and I’ll playyou a simple
“I do not understand.”
“I’m bushed and I haven’t finished thenewspapers. Seriously, I want to thank you. I reallyneeded the air.”
“Sehr gut You are a pleasant fellow.”
“You have no idea, good ale Aryan boy.”
“Ach, so amusing. Die Juden sind in Israel, rein?Better than in Cermany.”
Nate Simon would love you. He’d take your casefor nothing just to blow it No, he wouldn’t. He’dprobably give you the best defense you ever had.”
Converse stood on the wooden chair under thewindow to the left of the door. All he had to hearand see was the sound and the sight of the dogs;after that he had twenty or thirty seconds. Thefaucets in the bathroom were turned on, the dooropen; there was sufficient time to run across theroom, flush the toilet, close the door and return tothe chair. But he would not be standing on it.Instead, it would be gripped in his hands, laterally.The sun was descending rapidly; in an
hour it would be dark. Darkness had been his friendbefore as the waters of a river had been his friend.They had to be his friends again. They had to be!
The sounds came first racing paws and nasalexplosions then the sight of gleaming dark coats ofanimal fur rushing in circles in front of thejailhouse. Joel ran to the bathroom, concentratingon the seconds as he waited for the sliding of thebolt. It came; he flushed the toilet, then closed thebathroom door and raced back to the chair. Heraised it and stood in place, his legs and feet lockedto the floor. The door was opened severalinches only seconds now then the German’s righthand pushed it back.
The Aquaintaine Progession Page 37