“More than this old brain can absorb, if you wantthe truth. But not more than I can accept. It’s beena long time coming, hasn’t it? The eagles thinkthey’re gonna catch the goddamned sparrows afterall, don’t they? "Cause they’re gonna turn everyoneinto sparrows…. You know, Stone, I shouldn’t saythis because in your old age you became a bit softerthan I did in mine, but if they get it off the ground,a lot of people everywhere may just lie back in theirhammocks or go fishin’, and say the hell with it letthe big, uniformed daddies do it. Let’em straightenthings out get the potheads with their guns andswitchblades off the streets and out of the parks.Show the Russkies and the oil boys in bathrobes wedon’t take their crap anymore. Let’s show Jesuswe’re the good guys with a lot of clout. Thosesoldiers, they got the guts and the guns, thecorporations and the conglomerates, so what does itmean to me? Where do I change, says the Joe in thehammock, except maybe for the better?”
“Not better,” said Stone icily. “Those same peoplebecome robots. We all become robots, if we live.Don’t you understand that?”
“Yeah, I do,” answered Johnny Reb. “I guess Ialways have. I live on a hog-high in Bern while youscratch in D.C Yes, old buddy, I understand. Maybebetter than you do. . . . Forget it, I’m enlisted. Butwhat in all-fire hell are you going to do about thisConverse? I don’t think he’s going to get out.”
“He has to. We think he has the answers thefirsthand answers that give us the proof.”
“In my opinion he’s dead,” said the Southerner.“Maybe not now but soon soon’s they find him.”
“We have to find him first. Can you help?”
“I started the night I needled Major NormanAnthony Washburn the Fourth, Fifth, or Sixth Ikeep rosin’ track of the numerals. You got thecomputers the ones you have ac
cess to and I’ve got the streets where they sellthings you’re not supposed to buy. So far, nothing.”
".Try to find something, because you were rightbefore we don’t have much time. And, Johnny, doyou have the same feeling I have about that island,about Scharhorn?”
“Like Appomattox, way down deep in thestomach. I can taste the bile, Brer Rabbit, which iswhy I’m going to possum down here for a few days.We found ourselves a beehive, boy and the dronesare restless, I can sense it.”
Joel put the map and the thick envelope on thegrass and began pulling branches down from a smalltree in the orchard to cover Hermione Geyner’s car.Each yanking of a limb filled him with pain, asmuch from fatigue as from the strain on his arms.Finally, he bunched together reeds of tall grass andthrew them everywhere over the frame The effect inthe moonlight was that of an immense mound ofhay. He picked up the map and the envelope andstarted walking toward the road two hundred yardsaway. According to the map, he was on the outskirtsof a city or town called Appenweier, ten miles fromthe border at Kehl, directly across the Rhine fromStrasbourg.
He walked along the road, running into the grasswhenever he saw the headlights of a car in eitherdirection. He had traveled perhaps five or sixmiles there was no way to tell and knew that hecould go no farther.
In the jungles he had rested, knowing that rest wasas much a wee pon as a gun, the eyes and the mindfar more lethal when alert than a dozen steel weaponsstrapped to his bady.
He found a short ravine that bordered a brook,the rocks would be his fortress he fell asleep.
Valerie walked out of the Charles De GaulleAirport on the arm of the man from the Surete,Prudhomme, having accepted the scrap of paperwith his telephone number but vol
tmteering nothing. They approached the cabstand onthe platform and Prudhomme spoke. “I will makemyself clear madame. You may take a taxi here andI shall bid you adieu, or you may permit me to driveyou wherever you like perhaps to another taxistand in the city, to go wherever you wish and I willknow if anyone is following you.”
“You would?”
“In thirty-two years, even a fool learns something.My wife keeps telling me she has no lovers onlybecause I have learned the rudiments of myprofession.”
“I accept your invitation,” interrupted Val,smiling. “I’m terribly tired. A small hotel, perhaps.Le Pont Royal, I know it.”
“An excellent choice, but I must say that my wifewould welcome you without any questions.”
“My time must be my own, monsieur,” saidValerie, climbing into the car.
“D "accord. “
“Why are you doing this?” she asked asPrudhomme got behind the wheel. “My husband wasa lawyer is a lawyer. The rules can’t be thatdifferent. Aren’t you some kind of ac-cessory assuming what I know damned well you’reassuming?”
“I only wish that you will call me, saying that youare from the Tatiana family. That is my risk and thatis my reward.”
Converse looked at his watch a watch takenfrom a collapsed body so long ago he could notremember when and saw that it was five-forty-fivein the morning, the sun abruptly illuminating hisfortress ravine. The stream was below, and so hetook care of his necessities downstream and plungedhis face into the flow of water upstream. He had tomove; as he remembered, he had five miles to walkto the border.
He reached Kehl. There he bought a razor,reasoning that a priest would maintain hisappearance as best he could even under the duressof poor travel accommodations. He shaved at theriver depot, then took the ferry across the scenicRhine to Strasbourg. The customs officials were sodeferential to his collar and his passport as well as tohis shabby appearance undoubtedly taken as a signof the vow of poverty that he found himselfblessing a number of men, and by extension theirentire families, as he was passed through thebuilding.
Out on the bustling streets he knew that the firstthing he had to do was to get into a hotel room,shower off two days of fear and violence, and havehis clothes cleaned or replaced. Animpoverished-looking priest would not travel to theexpensive wonders of Chamonix; it would beunseemly. But a normally dressed priest, would beperfectly acceptable, even desirable, a figure ofrespectability among the crowds. And a priest hewould remain, Converse had decided the decisionhere based again on legal experience. Think outanticipate what your adversary expects you to do,then do not conform unless you retain theadvantage. The hunters of Aquitaine would expecthim to shed his priestly habit, as it was his lastknown means of disguise; he would not do that;there were too many priests in France and too muchadvantage in being one.
He registered at the Sofitel on the Place Saint-Pierre-le-Jeune and without elaboration explained tothe concierge that he had been through a dreadfulthree days of traveling and would the kind man seeto several items he needed rather desperately. Hewas from a very well-endowed parish in Los Angelesand An American $100 bill took care of the rest.His suit was cleaned and pressed within the hour,his muddy shoes shined, and two new shirts withclerical collars purchased from a shop “unfortunatelyquite a distance away on the Quai Kellermann,” thusnecessitating an additional charge. The gratuities,the expenses and the surcharges for rush service –all were a hotelman’s dream. The suntanned priestwith a blemish or two on his face, and odd demandsbased on time, certainly had to come from a“well-endowed” parish. It was worth it. He hadchecked in at eight-thirty in the morning, and bynine-fifty-five he was ready to make his finalarrangements for Chamonix.
He could not risk taking a plane or going by rail;too much had happened to him at airports and ontrains they would be watched. And sooner or laterHermione Geyner’s car would be found, and hisdirection if not his destination would be known.Aquitaine’s alarms would go out across the threeborders of Germany, France and Switzerland; againthe safest way was by automobile. The eagerlyaccommodating concierge was summoned; a finerental car was arranged for the youngish monsignor,and a route planned to Geneva, some two hundredthirty-eight miles south.
Of course, he would not cross over into Geneva butwould
go along the border roads and head for Chamonix,an hour-plus away. His estimated travel time wasbetween five and six hours; he would reach the baseof Mont Blanc by four-thirty in the afternoon, five atthe latest. He
wasted no time speeding out ofStrasbourg on the Alpine Autoroute marked 83 onhis map.
Valerie dressed as the first light silhouetted theirregularly shaped buildings of Paris outside herwindows on the Boulevard Raspail. She had not beenable to sleep, nor had she made any attempt to to doso; she had lain awake pondering the words of thestrange Frenchman from the Surete who could notspeak officially. She had been tempted to tell himthe truth but knew she would not, not yet, perhapsnot at all, for the possibility of a trap wasconsiderable revelations based on truth could tooeasily be employed to corner the hunted. Still, hisplea had the ring of truth, his own truth, notsomeone else’s: “Call and say you are from theTatiana family. That is my wish and my reward.”
Joel would have an opinion. If the man was notsimply bait put out by Aquitaine, it was a crack intheir strategy the generals knew nothing about. Shehoped he was his own man, but to trust him at thispoint was impossible.
She had read the domestic schedules provided byAir France on the plane from Los Angeles and knewthe routing she would take to Chamonix. AirTouraine had four flights daily to Annecy, thenearest airport to Chamonix and Mont Blanc. Shehad hoped to make a reservation on the 7:00 A.M.flight last night but the sudden, unnerving intrusionof Prudhomme had ruled it out, and by the time shecalled Touraine from the Pont Royal there were noseats it was summer and Mont Blanc was a touristattraction. Nevertheless, she was on standby for theeleven o’clock flight. It was better to be at OrlyAirport, better to be in the crowds, as Joel insisted.
She took the open, brass-grilled elevator down tothe lobby, paid her bill, and asked for a taxi.
“A queue heure, madameF”
“Maintenant, s’il vous plait. “
“Dans quelques minutes.”
“Merci. “
The taxi arrived and Val went outside, greeted bya surly sleepy-eyed driver who had no intention ofgetting out of the
cab to help her m and was only vaguely willing toaccept her patronage.
“Orly, s’il vous plaint.”
The driver started up, reached the corner andswung his wheel to the left to make a rapid U-turnso as to head back into the Raspail toward theexpressway leading to the airport. The intersectionappeared to be deserted. It was not.
The crash behind them was close by andsudden metal striking metal as glass shattered andtires screeched. The driver slammed on his brakes,screaming in shock and fear as the taxi veered intothe curb. Val was thrown against the front seat, herknees scraping the floor. Awkwardly she started toget up as the driver leaped from the cab yelling atthe offending parties behind.
Suddenly the right rear door opened and thelined, weary face of Prudhomme was above her, atrickle of blood rolling down from a gash in hisforehead. He spoke quickly, quietly. “Go,madame wherever it is you go. No one will followyou now.”
“You9. . . You’ve been here all night! You werewaiting for me, watching. It was you who crashedinto that car!”
“There is no time. I will send your driver back.I must make out my tedious report while scatteringa few items in the man’s car, and you must leave.Now before others
" That namer” cried Val. “It was Tatiana?”
“Thank your”
“Au revoir. Tonne chance.” The man from theSGrete ducked away and ran back to the twoFrenchmen shouting at each other behind the taxi.
It was three-twenty in the afternoon whenConverse saw the sign: SAINT-JULlEN ENCENEVOlS 15 KM. He had rounded the borderof Switzerland, the autoroute to Chamonix directlyahead, east of Geneva, just south of Annemasse. Hewould reach Mont Blanc in something over an hour;he had done it! He had also driven as he had neverbefore driven in his life, the powerful Citroenresponding to his pilot’s touch, his pilot’s mindoblivious to everything but the sweep in front ofhim, the equipment around him the feel of thehard road beneath as he took the Alpine curves. Hehad stopped to refuel once at Pontarlier, where hedrank steaming
hot tea from a vending machine. Since he had leftthe expressway for the shorter distance of themountain roads, his speed depended on his everyreaction being instantaneous and accurate. An hournow. Be there, Val. Be there, my loved
Valerie looked at her watch ready to scream"sshe had wanted to scream since six-thirty in themorning at Orly Airport. It was four-ten in theafternoon, and the entire day had been filled withone crisis after another, from the crash in theBoulevard Raspail, and Prudhomme’s revelation thatshe was being followed, to her arrival at Annecy onthe one o’clock flight from Paris itself delayed by amalfunctioning luggage door. Her nerves werestretched to the outer limits, but she knew above allthat she could not lose her control. l:)oing so wouldonly rivet attention on her; it briefly had.
There were no seats on the seven o’clock flightand the eleven o’clock plane had been overbooked.Only those with lockets in their hands werepermitted through the gate. She had protested soangrily that people began staring at her. Then shehad retreated to the soft-spoken bribe, which onlyserved to irritate the clerk not because he wasmorally offended but because he could notaccommodate her and accept the money. Againpassengers behind and on both sides, in both lines,had looked over as the clerk admonished her withtrue Gallic hauteur. It was no way to get toChamonix alive, Val had thought, and had accepteda locket on the one o’clock flight.
The plane landed at Annecy over a half-hour late,several minutes after three, and the subsequent crushat the taxi platform caused her to behave in a wayshe generally tried to avoid. Being a relatively tallwoman tall in appearance, certainly she knew theeffect she provoked when she looked downdisdainfully at those around her. A geneticpreordinabon had made her privileged, didn’t theyknow? Foolishly, too many people accepted theposturing as proof of innate superiority; the womenwere intimidated, the men both inbmidated andsexually aroused. The tactic had gained her a fewforward places in the taxi line, but the line was stilllong. Then she had happened to glance to her right;at the far end of the platform were glisteninglimousines, with several chauffeurs leaning againstthem, smoking cigarettes, picking their teeth andchattering. What in heaven’s name was she doings Shehad broken away from the line, opening her purse asshe ran.
Her final frustration now was the result ofsomething she should have remembered. There wasa point in the theatrical setting that was thewondrous “village” of Chamonix where automobilescould not pass and only small official and jitneys fortourists were allowed. She got out of the limousineand walked rapidly down the wide, crowdedboulevard. She could see the large red cable-carterminal in the distance. Somewhere above, abovethe clouds, was Joel. Her Joel. She could not stopherself; she did not try to maintain the control shehad imposed on herself all day. She began torun faster faster! Be up there, my darling! Be alive,my darling my only darling!
It was ten minutes to five when Conversescreeched into the parking lot; he slammed on thebrakes and leaped out of the car. There had beentragic on the Mont Blanc autoroute a holdover atthe new construction over the vast gorge bridge.Every muscle in his right leg had been cramped bythe exertion of seizing every opportunity to swingaround the lethargic traffic.. He was here! He was inChamonix, the majestic splendor of the Alps infront of him, the village below. He started running,taking swallows of breath from the clear air of themountains, forgetting the pain for she had to bethere’ Please, Val, make itil love you so . . . goddamnit, I need you so! Be there!
She stood outside the cable lift looking at theclouds below on the mountains that formed a wallof mist hiding all earthly concerns. She shivered inthe Alpine cold but she could not leave. She stoodby the stone railing, by a thick mountain telescopethrough which tourists could observe the wonders ofthe Alpine world for a few francs. She was fright-ened to death that he would not come could notcome. Death.
It was the last cable car, none were permittedafter the sun descended over the westernpeaks cables were suddenly frozen with shadows.Except for the bartender and several customersinside the glass doors of the bar, she was the onlyone there. Joel! I told you to stay alive! Please dowhat I said, m
y darling my only darling! My onlylove!
The cable car laboriously approached, thenscreechingly came to a stop. There was no onethere. It was empty! Death.
And then he walked into view, a tall man in aclerical col
far, and the top of the world made sense again. Hestepped out of the car and she ran to him as he ranto her. They embraced, holding each other as theyhad never held each other as man and wife.
“I love you!” he whispered. " Oh, God, I love you.”
She pulled back, holding his shoulders, tearsfilling her eyes. “You’re alive, you’re here! You didwhat I asked you to do.”
“What l had to do,” he said. “Because it was you.”
They slept naked, their bodies together, theirarms around each other, for a while pushing out theworld as they knew it to be, a world they would facein the morning. But for a bme there had to besomething for themselves, for each other, giving andreceiving, precious hours alone, speaking in whispers,trying to understand what they had lost and why,each telling the other it would never be lost again.
When morning came, they wanted to deny itsarrival, yet not completely. There ureas the world asthey knew it, and there was another world as thegenerals of Aquitaine would have it.
They ordered Continental breakfasts and an extrapot of coffee. While Val combed her hair Joel wentto Me window and looked down at the colorful,vibrant town of Chamonix. Hoses pouring out waterwere seemingly everywhere the streets were beingwashed down. The storefronts were splashed untilthey glistened. Chamonix was preparing for theonslaught of summer tourists thinking of which,mused Converse, they had been lucky to find rooms.They had gone to three hotels the first was nearlya disaster before they reached the desk. “For Cod’ssake, get rid of that collar!” Valerie had whispered.None of the three had anything available, but thefourth, the Croix Blanche, had just received acancellation.
“I’ll go out and get you some clothes later,” saidVal, coming up behind him, placing her head on hisshoulder.
“I’ve missed that,” he said, turning, putting hisarms around her. “I’ve missed you. So much.”
The Aquaintaine Progession Page 68