Robert Ludlum - Rhineman Exchange.txt

by The Rhineman Exchange [lit]

  it's criminal that his resources make him acceptable to London and New

  York.'

  'Perhaps necessary is a more appropriate term.'

  'I'm sure that's the rationalization, at any rate.'

  'It's mine.'

  'Of course. Forgive an old man's obsolete limits of necessity. But we have

  no quarrel. You have an assignment. What can I do for you? I understand

  it's very little.'

  'Very little indeed, sir. Just have me- listed on the embassy index; any

  kind of office space will do as long as it has a door and a telephone. And

  I'd like to meet your cryp. I'll have codes to send.'

  'My word, that sounds ominous,' said Granville, smiling without humor.

  'Routine, sir. Washington relay; simple Yes and Nos.'

  'Very well. Our head cryptographer, is named Ballard. Nice fellow; speaks

  seven or eight languages and is an absolute whiz at parlor games. You'll

  meet him directly. What else?'

  'I'd like an apartment 9

  'Yes, we know,' interrupted Granville gently, snatching a brief look at the

  wall clock. 'Mrs. Cameron has scouted one she thinks you'll approve ... ~.

  Of course, Washington gave us no indication of your length of stay. So Mrs.

  Cameron took it for three months.'

  'That's far too long. 1911 straighten it out.... I think that's almost all,

  Mr. Ambassador. I know you're in a hurry.'

  'I'm afraid I am.'

  David got out of his chair, as did Granville. 'Oh, one thing, sir. Would

  this Ballard have an embassy index? I'd like to learn the names here.'

  'There aren't that many,' said Granville, leveling his gaze at David, a

  subtle note of disapproval in his voice. 'Eight or ten would be those you'd

  normally come in contact with. And I can assure you we have our own

  security measures.'

  David accepted the rebuke. 'That wasn't my point, sir. I really do like to

  familiarize myself with the narnes.'

  'Yes, of course! Granville came around the desk and walked Spaulding to the

  door. 'Chat with my secretary for a few minutes.

  218

  I'll get hold of Ballard; he'll show you around!

  'Thank you, sir.' Spaulding extended his hand to Granville, and as he did

  so he realized for the first time how tall the man was.

  'You know,' said the ambassador, releasing David's hand, 'there was a

  question I wanted to ask you, but the answer will have to wait for another

  time. I'm late already.'

  'What was that?'

  'I've been wondering why the boys on Wall Street and the Strand sent you.

  I can't imagine there being a dearth of experienced bankers in New York or

  London, can you?'

  . 'There probably isn't. But then I'm only a liaison carrying messages;

  information best kept private, I gather. I have had experience in those

  areas ... in a neutral country.'

  Granville smile d once more and once more there was no humor conveyed.

  'Yes, of course. I was sure there was a reason.'

  t

  219

  23

  Ballard shared two traits common to most cryptographers, thought David. He

  was a casual cynic and a fount of information. Qualities, Spaulding

  believed, developed over years of deciphering other men's secrets only to

  find the great majority unimportant. He was also cursed with the first name

  of Robert, by itself acceptable but when followed by Ballard, invariably

  reduced to Bobby. Bobby Ballard. It had the ring of a 1920s socialite or the

  name in a cereal box cartoon.

  He was neither. He was a linguist with a mathematical mind and a shock of

  red hair on top of a medium-sized, muscular body; a pleasant man.

  'That's our home,' Ballard was saying. 'You've seen the working sections;

  big, rambling, baroque and goddamned hot this time of year. I hope you're

  smart and have your own apartment.'

  'Don't you? Do you live hereT

  'It's easier. My dials are very inconsiderate, they hum at all hours.

  Better than scrambling down from Chacarita or Telmo. And it's not bad; we

  stay out of each other's way pretty much.'

  'Oh? A lot of you hereT

  'No. They alternate. Six, usually. In the two wings, east and south.

  Granville has the north apartments. Besides him, Jean Cameron and I are the

  only permanents. You'll meet Jean tomorrow, unless we run into her on the

  way out with the old

  220

  man. She generally goes with him to the diplobores.'

  'The whatT

  'Diplo-bores. The old man's word ... contraction. I'm surprised he didn't

  use it with you. He's proud of it. Diplobore is an embassy duty bash.' They

  were in a large empty reception room; Ballard was opening a pair of French

  doors leading out onto a short balcony. In the distance could be seen the

  Nxaters of the Rio de la Plata and the estuary basin of the Puerto Nuevo,

  Buenos Aires' main port. 'Nice view, isn't it?'

  'Certainly is.' David joined the cryptographer on the balcony. 'Does this

  Jean Cameron and the ambassador ... I mean, are they ... ?'

  'Jean and the old manT Ballard laughed loud and goodnaturedly. 'Christ, no!

  ... Come to think of it, I don't know why it strikes me so funny. I suppose

  there're a lot of people who think that. And that's funny.'

  GWhy?t

  'Sad-funny, I guess I should say,' continued Ballard without interruption.

  'The old man and the Cameron family go back to the original Maryland money.

  Eastern Shore yacht clubs, blazer jackets, tennis in the morning - you

  know: diplomat territory. Jean's family was part of it, too. She married

  this Cameron; knew him since they could play doctor together in their

  Abercrombie pup tents. A rich-people romance, childhood sweethearts. They

  got married; the war came; he chucked his law books for a TBF - aircraft

  carrier pilot. He was killed in the Leyte Gulf. That was last year. She

  went a little crazy; maybe more than a little.'

  'So the ... Granville brought her down here?'

  'That's right.'

  'Nice therapy, if you can afford it.'

  'She'd probably agree with that.' Ballard walked back into the reception

  room; Spaulding followed. 'But most people will tell you she pays her dues

  for the treatment. She works damned hard and knows what she's doing. Has

  rotten hours, too; what with the diplobores.'

  'Where's Mrs. GranvilleT

  'No idea. She divorced the old man ten, fifteen years ago.'

  'I still say it's nice work if you can get it.' David was thinking, in an

  offhand way, of several hundred thousand other women whose husbands had

  been killed, living with reminders every day. He dismissed his thoughts;

  they weren't his concerns.

  221

  'Well, she's qualified.'

  'WhatT David was looking at a rococo-styled comer pillar in the wall, not

  really listening.

  'Jean spent four years - off and on - down here as a kid. Her father was in

  Foreign Service; probably would have been an ambassador by now if held

  stuck with it.... Come on, I'll show you the office Granville assigned you.

  Maintenance should have it tidied up by now,' Ballard smiled.

  'You've been employing a diversion,'laughed David, following the cryp out

  the door into another h
allway.

  'I had to. You've got a room in the back. So far back it's been used for

  storage, I think.'

  'Obviously I made points with Granville.'

  'You sure did. He can't figure you out.... Me? I don't try.' Ballard turned

  left into still another intersecting hallway. 'This is the south wing.

  Offices on the first and second floors; not many, three on each. Apartments

  on the third and fourth. The roof is great for sunbathing, if you like that

  sort of thing.'

  'Depends on the company, I suppose.'

  The two men approached a wide staircase, preparing to veer to the left

  beyond it, when a feminine voice called down from the second landing.

  'Bobby, is that youT

  .It's Jean,' said Ballard. 'Yes,' he called out. 'I'm with Spaulding. Come

  on down and meet the new recruit with enough influence to get his own

  apartment right off.'

  'Wait'll he sees the apartmentV

  Jean Cameron'came into sight from around the comer landing. She was a

  moderately tall woman, slender and dressed in a floorlength cocktail gown

  at once vivid with color yet simple in design. Her light brown hair was

  shoulder length, full and casual. Her face was a combination of striking

  features blended into a soft whole; wide, alive blue eyes; a thin, sharply

  etched nose; lips medium full and set as if in a half-smile. Her very clear

  skin was bronzed by the Argentine sun.

  David saw that Ballard was watching him, anticipating his reaction to the

  girl's loveliness. Ballard's expression was humorously sardonic, and

  Spaulding read the message: Ballard had been to the font and found it empty

  -for those seeking other than a few drops of cool water. Ballard was now a

  friend to the lady; he knew better than to try being anything else.

  222

  Jean Cameron seemed embarrassed by her introduction on the staircase. She

  descended rapidly, her lips parted into one of the most genuine smiles

  David had seen in years. Genuine and totally devoid of innuendo.

  'Welcome,' she said, extending her hand. 'Thank heavens I have a chance to

  apologize,before you walk into that place. You may change your mind and

  move right back here.'

  'It's that bad?' David saw that Jean wasn't quite as young at close range

  as she seemed on the staircase. She was past thirty; comfortably past. And

  she seemed aware of his inspection, the approbation - or lack of it -

  unimportant to her.

  'Oh, it's all right for a limited stay. You can't get anything else on that

  basis, not if you're American. But it's small.'

  Her handshake was firm, almost masculine, thought Spaulding. 'I appreciate

  your taking the trouble. I'm sorry to have caused it.'

  'No one else here could have gotten you anything but a hotel,' said

  Ballard, touching the girl's shoulder; was the contact protective? wondered

  David. 'The portehos trust Mother Cameron. Not the rest of us.'

  'Portefios,' said Jean in response to Spaulding's questioning expression,

  'are the people who live in BA .....

  'And BA - don't tell me - stands for Montevideo,' replied David.

  'Aw, they sent us a bright one,' said Ballard.

  'You'll get used to it,' continued Jean. 'Everyone in the American and

  English settlements calls it BA. Montevideo, of course,' she added,

  smiling. 'I think we see it so often on reports, we just do it

  automatically!

  'Wrong,' interjected Ballard. 'The vowel juxtaposition in "Buenos Aires" is

  uncomfortable for British speech.'

  'That's something else you'll learn during your stay, Mr. Spaulding,' said

  Jean Cameron, looking affectionately at Ballard. 'Be careful offering

  opinions around Bobby. He has a penchant for disagreeing!

  'Never so,' answered the cryp. 'I simply care enough for my fellow

  prisoners to want to enlighten them. Prepare them for the outside when they

  get paroled.'

  I "Well, I've got a temporary pass right now, and if I don't get over to the

  ambassador's office, he'll start on that damned address system.... Welcome

  again, Mr. Spaulding.'

  223

  'Please. The names David! ,

  -'Nfine's Jean. Bye,' said the girl, dashing down the hallway, calling back

  to Ballard. 'Bobby? You've got the address and the key? For ... David's

  place?'

  'Yep. Go get irresponsibly drunk, I'll handle everything!

  Jean Cameron disappeared through a door in the right wall.

  'She's very attractive,' said Spaulding, 'and you two are good friends. I

  should apologize for. . .'

  'No, you shouldn't,' interrupted Ballard. 'Nothing to apologize for. You

  formed a quick judgment on isolated facts. I'd've done the same, thought

  the same. Not that you've changed your mind; no reason to, really!

  'She's right. You disagree ... before you know what you're disagreeing to;

  and then you debate your disagreement. And if you go on, you'll probably

  challenge your last position!

  'You know what? I can follow that. Isn't it frightening?'

  'You guys are a separate breed,' said David, chuckling, following Ballard

  beyond the stairs into a smaller corridor.

  'Let's take a quick look at your Siberian cubicle and then head over to

  your other cell. It's on C6rdoba; we're on Corrientes. It's about ten

  minutes from here.'

  David thanked Bobby Ballard once again and shut the apartment door. He had

  pleaded exhaustion from the trip, preceded by too much welcome home in New

  York - and God knew that was the truth - and would Ballard take a raincheck

  for dinner?

  Alone now, he inspected the apartment; it wasn't intolerable at all. It was

  small: a bedroom, a sitting room-kitchen, and a bath. But there was a

  dividend Jean Cameron hadn9t mentioned. The rooms were on the first floor,

  and at the rear was a tiny brickleveled patio surrounded by a tall concrete

  wall, profuse with hanging vines and drooping flowers from immense pots on

  the ledge. In the center of the enclosure was a gnarled fruit-bearing tree

  he could not identify; around the trunk were three ropewebbed chairs that

  had seen better days but looked extremely comfortable. As far as he was

  concerned, the dividend made the dwelling.

  Ballard had pointed out that his section of the Avenida C6rdoba was just

  over the borderline from the commercial area, the 'downtown' complex of

  Buenos Aires. Quasi residential, yet near enough to stores and restaurants

  to be easy for a newcomer.

  -224

  David picked up the telephone; the dial tone was delayed but eventually

  there. He replaced it and walked across the small room to the refrigerator,

  an American Sears Roebuck. He opened it and smiled. The Cameron girl had

  provided - or had somebody provide - several basic items: milk, butter,

  bread, eggs, coffee. Then happily he spotted two bottles of wine: an Orfila

  tinto and a Col6n blanco. He closed the refrigerator and went back into the

  bedroom.

  He unpacked his single suitcase, unwrapping a bottle of Scotch, and

  remembered that he'd have to buy additional clothes in the morning. Ballard

  had offered to go with him to a men's shop in the Calle Florida - if his

  goddamned dials w
eren't 'humming.' He placed the books Eugene Lyons had

  given him on the bedside table. He had gone through two of them; he was

  beginning to gain confidence in the aerophysicists' language. He would need

  comparable studies * in German to be really secure. He would cruise around

  the bookshops in the German settlement tomorrow; he wasn't looking for

  definitive texts, just enough to understand the terms. It was really a

  minor part of his assignment, he understood that.

  Suddenly, David remembered Walter Kendall. Kendall was either in Buenos

  Aires by now or would be arriving within hours. The accountant had left the

  United States at approximately the same time he had, but Kendall's flight

  from New York was more direct, with far fewer stopovers.

  He wondered whether it would be feasible to go out to the airport and trace

  Kendall. If he hadn't arrived, he could wait for him; if he had, it would

  be simple enough to check the hotels -according to Ballard there were only

  three or four good ones.

  On the other hand, any additional time - more than absolutely essential -

  spent with the manipulating accountant was not a pleasant prospect. Kendall

  would be upset at finding him in Buenos Aires before he'd given the order

  to Swanson. Kendall, no doubt, would demand explanations beyond those David

  wished to give; probably send angry cables to an already strungout

  brigadier general.

  There were no benefits in hunting down Walter Kendall until Kendall

  expected to find him. Only liabilities.

  He had other things to do: the unfocused picture. He could begin that

  search far better alone.

  David walked back into the living room-kitchen carrying the

  225

  Scotch and took out a tray of ice from the refrigerator. He made himself a

  drink and looked over at the double doors leading to his miniature patio. He

  would spend a few quiet twilight moments in the January summertime breeze of

  Buenos Aires.

  The sun was fighting its final descent beyond the city; the last orange

  rays were filtering through the thick foliage of the unidentified fruit

  tree. Underneath, David stretched his legs and leaned back in the

  rope-webbed chair. He realized that if he kept his eyes closed for any

  length of time, they would not reopen for a number of hours. He had to