Robert Ludlum - Rhineman Exchange.txt

by The Rhineman Exchange [lit]

  corps.'

  'What did it say?'

  She told him.

  'So you see, my mythical David of last evening had a distinct basis in

  reality.'

  Spaulding walked to the window overlooking the west lawn of the embassy.

  The early sun was up, the grass flickered with dew; it brought to mind the

  manicured lawn seen in the night floodlights below Rhinemann's terrace. And

  that memory reminded him of the codes. He turned. 'I have to talk to

  Ballard.'

  'Is that all you're going to say?'

  'The not-so-mythical David has work to do. That doesn't change.'

  'I can't change it, you mean.

  He walked back to her. 'No, you can't.... I wish to God you could; I wish

  I could. I can't convince myself - to paraphrase a certain girl - that what

  I'm doing will make that much difference ... but I react out of habit, I

  guess. Maybe ego; maybe it's as

  simple as that.' II

  'I said you were good, didn't V'

  :Yes. And I am.... Do you know what I am?'

  An intelligence officer. An agent. A man who works with other men; in

  whispers and at night and with a great deal of

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  Money and lies. That's the way I think, you see.'

  6Not that. That's new.... What I really am.... I'm a construction engineer.

  I build buildings and bridges and dams and highways. I once built an

  extension for a zoo in Mexico; the best open-air enclosure for primates you

  ever saw. Unfortunately, we spent so much money the Zoological Society

  couldn't afford monkeys, but the space is there.'

  She laughed softly. 'You're funny.'

  'I liked working on the bridges best. To cross a natural obstacle without

  marring it, without destroying its own purpose. . . .'

  61 never thought of engineers as romantics.'

  'Construction engineers are. At least, the best ones.... But that's all.

  long ago. When this mess is over I'll go back, of course, but I'm not a

  fool. I know the disadvantages I'll be faced with. ... It's not the same as

  a lawyer putting down his books only to pick them up again; the law doesn't

  change that much. Or a stockbroker; the market solutions can't change.'

  'I'm not sure what you're driving at. . . .'

  'Technology. It's the only real, civilized benefit war produces. In

  construction it's been revolutionary. In three years whole new techniques

  have been developed. . . . I've been out of it. My postwar references won't

  be the best.'

  6Good Lord, you're sorry for yourself.'

  'Christ, yes! In one way.... More to the point, I'm angry. Nobody held a

  gun to my head; I walked into this ... this job for all the wrong reasons

  and without any foresight .... That's why I have to be good at it.'

  'What about us? Are we an "us"T

  61 love you,' he said simply. 'I know that.'

  'After only a week? That's what I keep asking myselL We're not children.'

  'We're not children,' he replied. 'Children don't have access to State

  Department dossiers.' He smiled, then grew serious. 'I need your help.'

  She glanced at him sharply. 'What is itT

  'What do you know about Erich Rhinemann?'

  'He's a despicable man.'

  'He's a JewO9 -

  'Then he's a despicable Jew. Race and religion notwithstanding,

  immaterial.9

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  'Why is he despicable?'

  'Because he uses people. Indiscriminately. Maliciously. He uses his money

  to corrupt whatever and whomever he can. He buys influence from the junta;

  that gets him land, government concessions, shipping rights. He forced a

  number of mining companies out of the Patagonia Basin; he took over a dozen

  or so oil fields at Comodoro Rivadavia. .

  'What are his politics?'

  Jean thought for a second; she leaned back in the chair, looking for an

  instant at the window, then over to Spaulding. 'Himself,'she answered.

  'I've heard he's openly pro-Axis.'

  'Only because he believed England would fall and terms would be made. He

  still owns a power base in Germany, I'm told!

  'But he's a Jew.'

  'Temporary handicap. I don't think he's an elder at the synagogue. The

  Jewish community in Buenos Aires has no use for him.,

  David stood up. 'Maybe that's it.'

  'What?'

  ,Rhinemann turned his back on the tribe, openly supports the creators of

  Auschwitz. Maybe they want him killed. Take out his guards first, then go

  after him.'

  'If by "they" you mean the Jews here, I'd have to say no. The Argentine

  judios tread lightly. The colonels' legions are awfully close to a goose

  step; Rhinemann has influence. Of course, nothing stops a fanatic or two.

  . . .'

  'No.... They may be fanatics, but not one or two. They're organized;

  they've got backing - considerable amounts, I think.'

  'And they're after Rhinemann? The Jewish community would panic. Frankly,

  we'd be the first they'd come to.'

  David stopped his pacing. The words came back to him again; there'll be no

  negotiations with Altinfiller. A darkened doorway on New York's

  Fifty-second Street.

  'Have you ever heard the name AltmUller?'

  'No. There's a plain Mailer at the German embassy, I think, but that's like

  Smith or Jones. No AltmUller.'

  'What about Hawkwood? A woman named Leslie Jenner Hawkwood?'

  'No, again. But if these people are intelligence oriented,

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  there'd be no reason for me to.'

  'They're Intelligence but I didn't think they were undercover. At least not

  this AltmOller.'

  'What does that mean?'

  'His name has been used in a context that assumes recognition. But I can't

  find him.'

  'Do you want to check the "Caves"?' she asked.

  'Yes. I'll do it directly with Granville. When do they openT

  'Eight thirty. Henderson's in his office by quarter to nine.' She saw David

  hold up his wrist, forgetting he had no watch. She looked at her office

  clock. 'A little over two hours. Remind me to buy you a watch.'

  'Thanks.... Ballard. I have to see him. How is he in the early morning? At

  this hour?'

  'I trust that question's rhetorical. . . . He's used to being roused up for

  code problems. Shall I call him?'

  'Please. Can you make coffee here?'

  'There's a hotplate out there.' Jean indicated the door to the anteroom.

  'Behind my secretary's chair. Sink's in the closet. ... Never mind. I'll do

  it. Let me get Bobby first.'

  'I make a fine pot of coffee. You call, I'll cook. You look like such an

  executive, I'd hate to interfere.'

  He was emptying the grounds from the pot when he heard it. It was a

  footstep. A single footstep outside in the corridor. A footstep that should

  have been muffled but wasn't. A second step would ordinarily follow but

  didn't.

  Spaulding put the pot on the desk, reached down and removed both his shoes

  without a sound. He crossed to the closed door and stood by the frame.

  There it was again. Steps. Quiet; unnatural.

  David opened his jacket, checking his weapon, and put his left hand on the

  knob. He turned it silently, then quickly opened the door and stepped out.

&nbs
p; Fifteen feet away a man walking down the corridor spun around at the noise.

  The look on his face was one Spaulding had seen many times.

  Fright.

  'Oh, hello there, you must be the new man. We haven't met. ... The name's

  Ellis. Bill Ellis.... I have a beastly conference at seven.' The attach6

  was not convincing.

  'Several of us were going fishing but the weather reports are

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  uncertain. Care to come with us?'

  'I'd love to except I have this damned ungodly hour meeting.'

  Yes. That's what you said. How about coffee?'

  'Thanks, old man. I really should bone up on some paperwork.'

  'O.K. Sorry.'

  'Yes, so am I.... Well, see you later.' The man named Ellis smiled

  awkwardly, gestured a wave more awkwardly - which David returned - and

  continued on his way.

  Spaulding went back into Jean's office and closed the door. She was

  standing by the secretary's desk.

  'Who in heaven's name were you talking to at this hour?'

  'He said his name was Ellis. He said he had a meeting with someone at seven

  o'clock.... He doesn't.'

  'What?'

  'He was lying. What's Ellis's department?'

  'Import-export clearances.'

  'That's handy.... What about Ballard?'

  'He's on his way. He says you're a mean man.... What's "handy" about

  Ellis?'

  Spaulding went to the coffee pot on the desk, picked it up and started for

  the closet. Jean interrupted his movement, taking the pot from him. 'What's

  Ellis's rating?' he asked.

  'Excellent. Strictly the syndrome; he wants the Court of St. James's. You

  haven't answered me. What's "handy"?'

  'He's been bought. He's a funnel. It could be serious or just penny-aqte

  waterfront stuff.'

  'Oh?' Jean, perplexed, opened the closet door where there was a washbasin.

  Suddenly, she stopped. She turned to Spaulding. 'David. What does

  "Tortugas" mean?'

  'Oh, Christ, stop kidding.'

  'Which means you can't tell me.'

  'Which means I don't know. I wish to heaven I did!

  'It's a code word, isn't it? That's what it says in your file.'

  'It's a code I've never been told about and I'm the one responsiblel'

  'Here, fill this; rinse it out first.' Jean handed him the coffee pot and

  walked rapidly into her office, to the desk. David followed and stood in

  the doorway.

  'What are you doing?'

  'Attach6s, even undersecretaries, if they have very early appointments,

  list them with the gate.'

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  'Ellis?'

  Jean nodded and spoke into the telephone; her conversation was brief. She

  replaced the instrument and looked over at Spaulding. 'The first gate pass

  is listed for nine. Ellis has no meeting at seven.'

  .I'm not surprised. Why are you?'

  'I wanted to make sure.... You said you didn't know what "Tortugas" meant.

  I might be able to tell you.'

  David, stunned, took several steps into the office. 'What?'

  'There was a surveillance report from La Boca - that's Ellies district. His

  department must have cleared it up, given it a clean bill. It was dropped.'

  'What was dropped? What are you talking about?'

  'A trawler in La Boca. It had cargo with a destination lading that violated

  coastal patrols . . . they called it an error. The destination was

  Tortugas.'

  The outer office door suddenly opened and Bobby Ballard walked in.

  liesus I' he said. 'The Munchkins go to work early in this wonderful world

  of Ozl'

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  33

  The code schedules with Ballard took less than a half hour. David was amazed

  at the cryptographer's facile imagination. He developed - on the spot - a

  geometrical progression of numbers and corresponding letters that would take

  the best cryps Spaulding knew a week to break.

  At maximum, all David needed was ninety-six hours.

  Bobby placed Washington's copy in an official courier's envelope, sealed it

  chemically, placed it in a triple-locked pouch and called the FMF base for

  an officer - captain's rank or above - to get to the embassy within the

  hour. The codes would be on a coastal pursuit aircraft by nine; at Andrews

  Field by late afternoon; delivered to General Alan Swanson's office in the

  War Department by armored courier van shortly thereafter.

  The confirmation message was simple; Spaulding had given Ballard two words:

  Cable Tortugas.

  When the code was received in Washington, Swanson would know that Eugene

  Lyons had authenticated the guidance designs. He could then radio the bank

  in Switzerland and payment would be made to Rhinemann's accounts. By using

  the name'Tortugas,' David hoped that someone, somewhere, would understand

  his state of mind. His anger at being left with the full responsibility

  without all of the facts.

  Spaulding was beginning to think that Erich Rhinemann was

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  demanding more than he was entitled to. A possibility that would do him

  little good.

  Rhinemann was to be killed.

  And the outlines of a plan were coming into focus that would bring about

  that necessary death. The act itself might be the simplest- part of his

  assignment.

  There was no point in not telling Jean and Bobby Ballard about the guidance

  designs. Kendall had flown out of Buenos Aires -without explanation; David

  knew he might need assistance at a moment when there was no time to brief

  those helping him. His cover was superfluous now. He described minutely

  Rhinemann's schedule, the function of Eugene Lyons and Heinrich Stoltzs

  surfacing as a contact.

  Ballard was astonished at Stoltz's inclusion. 'Stoltz! That's a little bit

  of lightning.... I mean, he's a believer. Not the Hitler fire 'n' brimstone

  - he dismisses that, I'm told. But Germany. The Versailles motive, the

  reparations - bled giant, export or die - the whole thing. I figured him

  for the real Junker item.

  David did not pay much attention.

  The logistics of the morning were clear in Spaulding's mind and at eight

  forty-five he began.

  His meeting with Henderson Granville was short and cordial. The ambassador

  was content not to know David's true purpose in Buenos Aires, as long as

  there was no diplomatic conflict. Spaulding assured him that to the best of

  his knowledge there was none; certainly less of a possibility if the

  ambassador remained outside the hard core of the assignment. Granville

  agreed. On the basis of David's direct request, he had the 'Caves' checked

  for files on Franz AltmiUler and Leslie Jenner Hawkwood.

  Nothing.

  Spaulding went from Granville's office back to Jean's. She had received the

  incoming passengers manifest from Aeroparque. Eugene Lyons was listed on

  clipper flight 101, arriving at two in the afternoon. His profession was

  given as 'physicist'; the reason for entry, 'industrial conferences.'

  David was annoyed with Walter Kendall. Or, he thought, should his annoyance

  be with the bewildered amateur, Brigadier General Alan Swanson? The least

  they could have done was terin, Lyons a 'scientist'; 'physicist' was

  stupid
. A physicist in Buenos Aires was an open invitation to surveillance

  - even Allied surveillance.

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  He walked back to his own isolated, tiny office. To think.

  He decided to meet Lyons himself. Walter Kendall had told him that Lyons's

  male nurses would settle the mute, sad man in San Telmo. Recalling the two

  men in question, David had premonitions of disaster. It wasn't beyond

  Johnny and Hal -those were the names, weren't they? - to deliver Lyons to

  the steps of the German embassy, thinking it was another hospital.

  He would meet Pan Am Clipper 101. And proceed to take the three men on a

  complicated route to San Telmo.

  Once he'd settled Lyons, David estimated that he would have about two,

  possibly three, hours before Rhinemann - or Stoltz -would make contact,

  Unless Rhinemann was hunting him now, in panic over the killings in the

  Colinas Rojas. If so, Spaulding had 'built his shelter.' His irrefutable

  alibi.... He hadn't been there. Ae'd been dropped off at C6rdoba by two in

  the morning.

  Who could dispute him?

  So, he would have two or three hours in midafternoon.

  La Boca.

  Discreetly, Jean had checked naval surveillance at FMF. The discretion came

  with her utterly routine, bored telephone call to the chief of operations.

  She had a 'loose end' to tie up for a 'dead file'; there was no

  significance, only a bureaucratic matter -someone was always looking for'a

  good rating on the basis of dosing out. Would the lieutenant mind filling

  in? ... The trawler erroneously listed for Tortugas was moored by a

  warehouse complex in Ocho Calle. The error was checked and confirmed by the

  embassy attach6, Mr. William Ellis, Import-Export Clearance Division.

  Ocho Calle.

  David would spend an hour or so looking around. It could be a waste of

  time. What connection would a fishing trawler have with his assignment?

  There was none that he could see. But there was the name 'Tortugas'; there

  was an attach6 named Ellis who crept silently outside closed doors and lied

  about nonexistent conferences in the early morning.

  Ocho Calle was worth looking into.

  Afterward, he would stay by his telephone at C6rdoba.

  'Are you going to take me to lunch?' asked Jean, walking into his office.

  'Don't look at your watch; you haven't got one.'