The Aquaintaine Progession

by Ludlum, Robert

  “That’s the way, son. Everything’s going to be finenow. Just splendid.”

  “Good-bye, Larry.”

  “Good-bye for now, Joel. See you in a couple ofdays.”

  Converse slammed down the phone and lookedaround the dimly lit room. What was he checkingfor? He had come with nothing and he would leavewith nothing but what was on his back what he hadstolen. And he had to leave quickly. He had to run.In minutes men would be speeding in cars from theembassy, and at least one of those men would havea gun and a bullet meant for him!

  What in hell was happening to him? The truthwas a fantasy bolstered by lies, and the lies were hisonly means of survival. Insanity!

  He ran past the elevator to the staircase,descending the steps two and three at a time, hishand on the iron railing as he lurched around thelandings, and reached the lobby door four storiesbelow. He swung it open, suddenly gripping the

  edge and slowing his pace so as not to call attentionto himself. He need not have been concerned. Thesmall band of people milling about in front of thebenches against the wall and wandering around thewarm tile floor were the neighborhoodelderly,looking for nightly companionship, and a few drunkswalking in and out of the neon-lit door to the noisycafe. Oh Christ! His mind was in a frenzy. He couldwalk around in the night, hiding in alleys, but a loneman in unfamiliar streets was too easily spotted byunofficial hunters or by the official police. He hadto get inside somewhere, somehow. Out of sight.

  The cafe! His Samaritans! He pulled up thecollar of the leather jacket and forced the belt ofthe trousers lower, inching down the gap around hisankles. He then approached the door casually,feigning a slight stagger as he pushed it open. Hewas greeted by Roating levels of smoke not all ofit tobacco, by any means and adjusted his stingingeyes to the erratically flashing lights as he tried toblock out the offending noise, a combination ofguttural roars and disco music blaring fromhigh-tech speakers. His Good Samaritans weregone: he looked for the young blond girl as his focalpoint, but she was not there. The table they hadoccupied was taken by another foursome no, notfour different people, only three, who had joinedthe English-speaking student who had sat besidehim in the car. The three were young men whoseemed also to be students. Joel approached them,and passing an empty chair in his path, he grippedthe back and unobtrusively pulled it behind him tothe table. He sat down and smiled at theblond-haired student.

  “I didn’t know- if I’d left enough money forthose twelve beers I promised,” he said pleasantly

  “Ach! I was just talking about you, HerrAmerJkaner! These are my friends like me, alldreadful students!” The three newcomers wereintroduced rapidly, the names lost in the music andthe smoke. Everyone nodded; the American waswelcome.

  “Our other two friends left?”

  “I told you,” shouted the blond youngsterthrough the noise. “They wished to drive to ourhouse and make love That’s all they do! Ourparents went to Bayreuth for the music festival, sothey shall make their own music on her bed and Ishall come home late!”

  “Nice arrangement,” said Converse, trying to thinkof

  how to broach the subject that had to be broachedquickly. He had very little time.

  “Very good, sir!” said a dark-haired young man onhis right. “Hans would have missed that; his Englishis understandably inferior. I was an exchange studentin the state of Massachusetts for two years.”Arrangement’ is also a musical term. You combinedthe two! Very good, sir!’

  “I keep trying,” saidJoel aimlessly, looking at thestudent. “You really speak English?” he askedsincerely.

  “Very well. My scholarship depends upon it. Myfriends here are good people, make no mistake, butthey are rich and come here for amusement. As aboy, I lived two streets away from this place. Butthey protect the lads here, and why not? Let themhave fun; nobody is hurt and money is spread.”

  “You’re sober,” said Converse, the statementbordering on a question.

  The young man laughed as he nodded. “Tonight,yes. Tomorrow afternoon I have a difficult exam andneed a clear head. The summer-session examinationsare the worst. The professors would rather be onholiday.”

  “I was going to talk to him,” said Joel, nodding atthe blond student, who was arguing with his twocompanions, his hands waving in the smoke, his voicestrident. “But that doesn’t make sense. You do.”

  “In what sense, sir, if you will forgive theredundancy of the expression?”

  “"Redundancy’? What’s your major?”

  “Preliminary law, sir.”

  “I don’t need that.”

  “It is a difficulty, sir?”

  “Not for me. Listen, I haven’t much time and Ihave a problem. I have to get out of here. I need tofind another place to stay just until tomorrowmorning. I assure you I’ve done nothing wrong,nothing illegal in case my clothes or my appearancegives another impression. It’s strictly a personalmatter. Can you help me?”

  The dark-haired young German hesitated, as ifreluctant to answer, but nevertheless did so, leaningforward to be heard. “Since you bring up the subject,I’m sure you can understand that it would not beseemly for a student of the law to help a man underquestionable circumstances.”

  “That’s exactly why I brought it up,” saidConverse rapidly, speaking into the student’s ear.“I’m an attorney and under

  these clothes a reasonably respectable one. I simplytook on the wrong American client over here andcan’t wait to get a plane out tomorrow morning.”

  The young man listened, studied Joel’s face andnodded. "Then these are not lodgings you wouldnormally seek?”

  "To be avoided wherever possible. I just thoughtit would be a good idea to be inconspicuous for thenight.”

  “There are very few places such as this in Bonn, sir.”

  “To Bonn’s credit, counselor.” Glancing aboutthe cafe and its predominant clientele, Conversehad another thought. “It’s summer!” he said urgentlyto the student through the bedlam. “Are there anyyouth hostels around here?”

  “Those in the vicinity of Bonn or Cologne arefilled, sir mostly with Americans and the Dutch. Theothers which might have spaces are quite far northtoward Hanover. However, there is anothersolution, I think.”

  “What?”

  “Summer, sir. The rooming houses usually filledby those attending the university have many spacesduring the summer months. In the house where Istay there are two empty rooms on the third floor.”

  “I thought you lived around here.”

  “That was long ago. My parents are retired andlive with my sister in Mannheim.”

  “I’m in a great hurry. May we go? I’ll pay youwhat I can tonight and more tomorrow morning.”

  “I thought you said you were taking the plane inthe morning.”

  “I have two stops to make first. You can comewith me; you can show me where they are.”

  The young man and Joel excused themselves,knowing they would not be missed. The studentstarted toward the lobby door, but Conversegrabbed his elbow, gesturing at the street entrance.

  “Your luggage, sir!” shouted the Cermanthrough the din and the flashing lights.

  “You can lend me a razor in the morning!”Converse yelled back, pulling the young manthrough the mingling bodies toward the door.Several tables before the entrance was an emptychair, on the seat a soft, rumpled cloth cap. He bentdown and picked it up, holding it in front of him ashe reached the door and walked outside to thepavement, the student be

  hind him. “Which way?” he asked, pulling the capover his head.

  “This way, sir,” replied the young Cerman,pointing beneath the shabby canopy of the adjacenthotel entrance.

  “Let’s go, " said Joel, stepping forward.

  They stopped that is, Converse stopped first,gripping the student s shoulder and turning him intothe building. A black sedan had come speeding downthe street, swerving into the open space in front ofthe canopy. Two men got out of the back doors andrushed toward the entrance, the second man runningaround the trunk to catch up
with the first. Joelangled his head as the young German stared at him.He recognized both men; both were Americans. Theyhad been at the Cologne-Bonn airport eight nightsago, hoping to trap him then as they were coming totrap him now. The black car moved forward out ofthe glare of the lights into the shadows. It pulled intothe curb and waited, a hearse prepared to receive itscargo.

  “Was ist los?” asked the German youth, unable toconceal his fear.

  “Nothing, really.” Converse removed his hand andgave the student two friendly claps on the shoulder.“Just let this be a lesson to you, counselor. Knowwho your client is before you get greedy and accepttoo large a retainer.”

  "ha, ” said the young German, attempting a smilebut not succeeding, his eyes on the black sedan.

  They walked rapidly past the parked automobilewith the driver inside, the glow of a cigarette seen inthe darkness of the front seat. Joel pulled down thecloth cap and again angled his head, now away fromone of his countrymen.

  The truth was a fantasy bolstered by lies…. Survivalwas in running and concealment Insanity!

  The early morning was mercifully uneventfulexcept for his raging thoughts. The student, whosename was Johann, had secured him a room at theboardinghouse, the proprietess delighted with ahundred deutsche marks for the rental. It more thanmade up for the gauze, tape, and antiseptic she gavehim to rebandage his wound. Converse had sleptsoundly, if intermittently, awakened by fearstransposed into macabre dreams. By seven o’clocksleep was impossible.

  There was an urgent piece of business that had tobe taken care of; he understood the risk, but themoney was necessary,nowmore than ever. On Mykonos, theknowledgeable if serpentine Laskaris had forwarded $100,000 to banks in Paris, London, Bonn and NewYork, using the accepted practice of written-outnumbers as a signature to withdraw the funds.Laskaris further had suggested that Joel should notattempt to carry with him or try to memorize foursets of lengthy and entirely different digits. Insteadthe banker would wire the American Express traveloffices in the four cities to hold for a period ofthree months a message for who, Mr. Converse?Itshould be a name meaningful to you but not to others.It will be your code, no other idenfff cation neces-sary as with certain telephone banking facilities inyour own country…. Make it Charpentier. I, Charpenffer.

  Joel understood that he might have revealed thedevice while under narcotics. Also, he might nothave; his mind was not on money. He had a greatdeal in his possession, and the chemicals tended toelicit only feverish priorities.. He had learned that inthe camps a lifetime ago, twice astonished that hehad not mentioned far-off tactics down the roads ofescape. There was also a backup, ethicsnotwithstanding. The young German, Johann, wouldbe his intermediary. The risks could not be avoided,only minimized; he had also learned that a lifetimeago. If the boy was taken, his conscience would bestricken, but then, what could be the worst thatwould happen to him? There was no point inthinking about it.

  “Go inside and ask if there’s a message for J.Charpentier,” said Joel to the student. They were inthe backseat of a taxi across the street from theAmerican Express office. “If the answer is yes, saythe following words. "It must be a wire fromMykonos,’” he added, recalling Laskaris’ precise in-structions.

  “That is necessary, sir?” asked the dark-hairedJohann, frowning.

  “Yes, it is. Without mentioning Mykonos and thefact that the message is a cable, they won’t give it toyou. Also it identifies you. You won’t have to signanything.”

  “This is all very strange, sir.”

  “If you’re going to be a lawyer, get used to oddforms of communication. There’s nothing illegal,simply a means of protecting your client’s and yourfirm’s confidentiality.”

  “I have much to learn, it seems.”

  “You’re not doing anything wrong,” continuedJoelquiet

  Iy,his eyes level withJohann’s. “On the contrary,you’re doing something very right, and I’ll pay youvery well for doing it.”

  “Sehr gut, ” said the young man.

  Converse waited in the taxi, his eyes scanning thestreet concentrating on stationary automobiles andthose pedestrians walking too slowly or not at all, oranyone whose glances even seemingly strayed to theAmerican Express office.. Johann went inside andJoel swallowed repeatedly, a tightness in his throat;the waiting was awful, made worse by the knowledgethat he was using the student in a high-risk situationThen he thought briefly of Avery Fowler-Hallidayand Connal Fitzpatrick; they had lost. The youngGerman had an infinitely far greater chance of livingfor many years.

  The minutes went by as the sweat crawledthrough Converse’s hair and down his neck; time wassuspended in fear Finally, Johann came outside,blinking in the sunlight, inno cence personified. Hecrossed the street and climbed into the taxi.

  “What did they say to your” asked Joel, trying tosound casual, his eyes still roaming the street.

  “Only if I had been waiting long for the message.I replied that I expected it was a cablegram fromMykonos. I didn’t know what else to say.”

  “You did fine.” Joel tore open the envelope andunfolded the wire. There was an unbroken series ofwritten-out numbers, well over twenty, he judged ata glance. Again he remembered Laskaris’instructions: Pick every third number beginning withthe third and ending with the third from the last. Thinkmerely in terms of three. It’s quite simple these thingsusually are and in any event, no one else can sign foryou. It’s merely a precaution.

  “Is everything all right?” asked Johann.

  “So far we’re ahead one step and you’re one stepnearer a bonus, counselor.”

  “I’m also nearer my examination.”

  “What time do you take it?”

  “Three-thirty this afternoon.”

  “Good omen. Think in terms of three.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Nothing. Let’s find a pay telephone. You’ve onlygot one more thing to do, and tonight you can buyyour friends the biggest dinner in Bonn.”

  * * *

  The taxi waited at the corner while Converseand the young German stood outside the booth,Johann having written down the bank’s numberfrom the telephone book. The student was reluctantto go any further; the exotic chores asked of himnow were more than he cared to accept.

  "AII you have to do is tell the truth!” insistedJoel. “Only the truth. You met an Americanattorney who doesn’t speak German and he’s askedyou to make a call for him. This attorney has towithdraw funds for a client from a confidential ac-counts-transfer and wants to know whom he shouldsee. That’s all. No one will ask your name, or mine,either, for that matter.”

  " And when I do this there will be somethingelse, main Herr? Nein, I think not. You callyourself “

  “I can’t make a mistake! I can’t misunderstanda word. And there is nothing else. Just waitwherever you like around the bank or near thebank. When I come out I’ll give you two thousanddeutsche marks, and as far as I’m concerned far asanyone’s concerned we never met.”

  “So much for so little, sir. You can understand myfears.”

  “They’re nothing compared to mine,” saidConverse quietly yet urgently. “Please, do this. Ineed your help.”

  As he had done the night before through thenoise and the smoke and the flashing lights of theraucous bar, the young German looked hard at Joel,as if trying to see something he could not be surewas there. Finally, he nodded once withoutenthusiasm. “Sehr gut, ” he said, stepping into thebooth with several coins in his hand.

  Converse watched through the glass as thestudent dialed and obviously had brief conversationswith two or three different people before reachingthe correct party. The one-sided dialogue asobserved by Joel seemed interminable far too longand too complicated for the simple request of aname in the transferred-accounts department. Atone point, as he wrote something down on the scrapof paper with the bank’s number on it, Johannappeared to object and Converse had to restrainhimself from opening the door and terminabng thecall. The German youth hung up and came out, hisexpression confused a
nd angry.

  “What happened? Was there a problem?”

  “Only with the hour and institutional policy, sir.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Such accounts are serviced only after twelve noon.I

  made it clear that you had to be at the airport bythen, but Herr Direktor said the bank’s policy wouldstand.” Johann handed Converse the slip of paper."You’re to see a man named Lachmann on thesecond floor.”

  “I’ll catch a later plane.” Joel looked at thechauffeur’s watch on his wrist. It was ten-thirty-five;an hour and a half to go.

  “I was hoping to be at the university library longbefore noon.”

  “You can still be there,” said Converse sincerely.“We can stop, get a stamped envelope, and you canwrite out your name and address. I’ll mail the moneyto you.”

  Johann glanced at the pavement, his hesitation alltoo obvious. “I think, perhaps . . . the examination isnot so difficult for me. It’s one of my better subjects.”

  “Of course,” agreed Joel. “There’s no reason onearth why you should trust me.”

  “You mistake me, sir. I believe you would mailthe money to me. It’s just that I’m not sure it’s sucha good idea for me to receive the envelope.”

  Converse smiled; he understood. “Fingerprints?”he asked kindly. “Accepted rules of evidence?”

  “It’s also one of my better subjects.”

  “Okay, you’re stuck with me for another couple ofhours. I’ve got about seven hundred deutsche marksleft until I reach the bank. Do you know someclothing store away from the main shopping districtwhere I can buy a pair of trousers and a jacket?”

  “Yes, sir. And if I may suggest, if you are goingto withdraw enough funds to give me two thousanddeutsche marks perhaps a clean shirt and a tie mightbe in order.”

  “Always check your client’s appearance. You maygo far, counselor.”

  The ritual at the Bank aus der Bonner Sparkassewas a study in awkward but adamant efficiency. Joelwas ushered into Herr Lachmann’s office on thesecond floor where nei, ther a handshake nor smalltalk was offered. Only the business at hand wasaddressed.