Robert Ludlum - Rhineman Exchange.txt

by The Rhineman Exchange [lit]

'Then Fairfax doesn't know.'

  'Our man does. But not enough.'

  'Who is he? Who's your man in FairfaxT

  Feld gestured to his silent companion. 'He doesn't know and I won't tell

  you. You may kill me but I won't tell you.'

  Spaulding knew the dark-eyed Jew spoke the truth. 'If Pace was used ... and

  me. Who's using usT

  'I can't answer that.'

  'You know this much. You must have ... thoughts. Tell me.'

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  'Whoever gives you orders, I imagine.*

  'One man....'

  'We know. He's not very good, is he? There are others.'

  'Who? Where does it stop? State? The War Department? The White House?

  Where, for Christ's sake!?'

  'Such territories have no meaning in these transactions. They vanish.'

  'Men don'tl Men don't vanish!'

  'Then look for those who dealt with Koening. In South Africa. Kendall's

  men. They created "Tortugas." ' Asher Feld's voice grew stronger. 'That's

  your affair, Colonel Spaulding. We only wish to stop it. We'll gladly die

  to stop it.'

  David looked at the thin-faced, sad-faced man. 'It means that much? With

  what you know, what you believe? Is either side worth itT

  'One r-rust have priorities. Even in lessening descent. If Peenem0nde is

  saved ... put back on schedule ... the Reich has a bargaining power that is

  unacceptable to us. Look to Dachau; look to Auschwitz, to Belsen.

  Unacceptable.'

  David walked around the table and stood in front of the Jews. He put his

  Beretta in his shoulder holster and looked at Asher Feld.

  'If you've lied to me, I'll kill you. And then I'll go back to Lisbon, into

  the north country, and wipe out every Haganah fanatic in the hills. Those

  I don't kill, I'll expose.... Put on your coats and get out of here. Take

  a room at the Alvear under the name of ... Pace. E. Pace. I'll be in

  touch.'

  'Our weaponsT asked Feld, pulling his light grey overcoat over his

  shoulders.

  'I'll keep them. I'm sure you can afford others.... And don't wait for us

  outside. There's an FMF vehicle cruising for me.'

  'What about "Tortugas"T Asher Feld was pleading.

  'I said I'll be in touch!' shouted Spaulding. 'Now, get out of here! ...

  Pick up the Hawkwood girl; she's around the comer in the Renault. Here are

  the keys.' David reached in his pocket and threw the keys to Asher Feld's

  companion, who caught them effortlessly. 'Send her back to California.

  Tonight, if you can. No later than tomorrow morning. Is that clear?'

  'Yes.... You will be in touchT

  'Get out of here,' said Spaulding in exhaustion.

  The two Haganah agents rose from their chairs, the younger

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  going to the unconscious third man and lifting him off the floor, onto his

  shoulders. Asher Feld stood in the front hallway and turned, his gaze

  resting momentarily on the dead bodies, then over to Spaulding.

  'You and 1. We must deal in priorities.... The man from Lisbon is an

  extraordinary man.' He turned to the door and held it open as his companion

  carried out the third man. He went outside, closing the door behind him.

  David turned to Lyons. 'Get the designs.'

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  37

  When the assault on 15 Terraza Verde had begun, Eugene Lyons had done a

  remarkable thing. It was so simple it had a certain cleanliness to it,

  thought Spaulding. He had taken the metal container with the designs, opened

  his bedroom window and dropped the case five feet below into the row of

  tiger lilies that grew along the side of the house. The window shut, he had

  then run into his bathroom and locked the door.

  All things considered - the shock, the panic, his own acknowledged

  incapacities - he had taken the least expected action: he had kept his

  head. He had removed the container, not tried to conceal it; he had

  transferred it to an accessible place, and that was not to be anticipated

  by the fanatic men who dealt in complicated tactics and convoluted deceits.

  David followed Lyons out of the house through the kitchen door and around

  to the side. He took the container from the physicist's trembling hands and

  helped the near-helpless man over the small fence separating the adjacent

  property. Together they ran behind the next two houses and cautiously edged

  their way toward the street. Spaulding kept his left hand extended,

  gripping Lyons's shoulder, holding him against the wall, prepared to throw

  him to the ground at the first hint of hostilities.

  Yet David was not really expecting hostilities; he was convinced the

  Haganah had eliminated whatever Rhinemarm guards were posted in front, for

  the obvious reason that Asher Feld had

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  left by the front door. What he did think was possible was a last-extren-dty

  attempt by Asher Feld to get the designs. Or the sudden emergence of a

  Rhinemann vehicle from some near location - a vehicle whose occupants were

  unable to raise a radio signal from 15 Terraza Verde.

  Each possible; neither really expected.

  It was too late and too soon.

  What David profoundly hoped he would find, however, was a blue-green sedan

  cruising slowly around the streets. A car with small orange insignias on

  the bumpers that designated the vehicle as U.S. property. Ballard's

  'playground attendants'; the men from the FMF base.

  It wasn't cruising. It was stationary, on the far side of the street, its

  parking lights on. Three men inside were smoking cigarettes, the glows

  illuminating the interior. He turned to Lyons.

  'Let's go. Walk slowly, casually. The car's over there.'

  The driver and the man next to him got out of the automobile the moment

  Spaulding and Lyons reached the curb. They stood awkwardly by the hood,

  dressed in civilian clothes. David crossed the street, addressing them.

  'Get in that goddamned car and get us out of here! And while you're at it,

  why don't you paint bull's-eyes all over the vehicle? You wouldn't be any

  more of a target than you are now!'

  'Take it easy, buddy,' replied the driver. 'We just got here.' He opened

  the rear door as Spaulding helped Lyons inside.

  'You were supposed to be cruising, not parked like watchdogs!'David climbed

  in beside Lyons; the man at the far window squeezed over. The driver got

  behind the wheel, closed his door and started the engine. The third man

  remained outside. 'Get him in here!' barked Spaulding.

  'He'll remain where he is, colonel,' said the man in the back seat next to

  Lyons. 'He stays here.'

  'Who the hell are youT

  'Colonel Daniel Meehan, Fleet Marine Force, Naval Intelligence. And we want

  to know what the fuck's going on.'

  The car started up.

  'You have no control over this exercise,' said David slowly, deliberately.

  'And I don't have time for bruised egos. Get us to the embassy, please.'

  'Screw egos! We'd like a little simple clarification I You know

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  what the hell is going on down in our section of town? This side trip to

  Telmo's just a minor inconvenience I I wouldn't be here except your

  goddamned name was mentioned by that smart-ass cryp! ... Jesus!'

  S
paulding leaned forward on the seat, staring at Meehan. 'You'd better tell

  me what's going on in your section of town. And why my name gets you to

  Telmo.'

  The marine returned the look, glancing once - with obvious distaste - at

  the ashen Lyons. 'Why not? Your friend cleared?'

  'He is now. No one more so.'

  'We have three cruisers patrolling the Buenos Aires coastal zone plus a

  destroyer and a carrier somewhere's out there.

  Five hours ago we get a blue alert: prepare for a radio-radar ~1*ackout,

  all sea and aircraft to hold to, no movement. Forty-five minutes later

  there's a scrambler from Fairfax, source four-zero. Intercept one Colonel

  David Spaulding, also four-zero. He's to make contact pronto.'

  'With FairfaxT

  'Only with Fairfax.... So we send a man to your address on C6rdoba. He

  doesn't find you but he does find a weird son of a bitch tearing up your

  place. He tries to take him and gets laid out.... He gets back to us a

  couple of hours later with creases in his head and guess who calls? Right

  on an open-line telephonel'

  'Ballard,' answered David quietly. 'The embassy cryp.'

  'The smart-ass 1 He makes jokes and tells us to play games out at Telmo I

  Wait for you to decide to show.' The marine colonel shook his head in

  disgust.

  'You said the blue alert was preparation for radar silence

  . and radio.'

  'And all ships and planes immobilized,' interrupted Meehan. 'What the

  hell's coming in here? The whole goddamned General Staff'? Roosevelt?

  Churchill? Rin-tin-tin? And what are we? The enemy I I

  'It's not what's coming in, colonel,' said David softly. 'It9s what's going

  out.... What's the time of activationT

  'It's damn loose. Anytime during the next forty-eight hours. How's that for

  a tight scheduleT

  'Who's my contact in Virginia?'

  'Oh.... Here.' Meehan shifted in his seat, proffering a sealed yellow

  envelope that was the mark of a scrambled message.

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  David reached across Lyons and took it.

  There was the crackling static of a radio from the front seat followed by

  the single word 'Redbird!' out of the speaker. The driver quickly picked up

  the dashboard microphone.

  'Redbird acknowledge,' said the marine.

  The static continued but the words were clear. 'The Spaulding intercept.

  Pick him up and bring him in. Four-zero orders from Fairfax. No contact

  with the embassy.'

  'You heard the man,'laughed Meehan. 'No embassy tonight, colonel.'

  David was stunned. He started to object - angrily, furiously; then he

  stopped.... Fairfax. No Nazi, but Haganah. Asher Feld had said it. The

  Provisional Wing dealt in practicalities. And the most practical objective

  during the next forty-eight hours was to immobilize the man with the codes.

  Washington would not activate a radio-radar blackout without them; and an

  enemy submarine surfacing to rendezvous with a trawler would be picked up

  on the screens and blown out of the water. The Koening diamonds - the

  Peenerniffide tools - would be sent to the bottom of the South Atlantic.

  Christ I The irony, thought David. Fairfax - sonteone at Fairfax - was

  doing precisely what should be done, motivated by concerns Washington - and

  the aircraft companies - refused to acknowledge! It - they - had other

  concerns: three-quarters of them were at Spaulding's feet. High-altitude

  gyroscopic designs.

  David pressed his arm into Lyons's shoulder. The emaciated scientist

  continued to stare straight ahead but responded to Spaulding's touch with

  a hesitant nudge of his left elbow.

  David shook his head and sighed audibly. He held up the yellow envelope and

  shrugged, placing it into his jacket pocket.

  When his hand emerged it held a gun.

  'I'm afraid I can't accept those orders, Colonel Meehan.' Spaulding pointed

  the automatic at the marine's head; Lyons leaned back into the seat.

  'What the bell are you doing!?' Meehan jerked forward; David clicked the

  firing pin of the weapon into hair-release.

  'Tell your man to drive where I say. I don't want to kill you, colonel, but

  I will. It's a matter of priorities.'

  'You're a goddanmed double agent! That's what Fairfax was onto!'

  David sighed. 'I wish it were that simple.'

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  Lyons's hands trembled as he tightened the knots around Meehan's wrists.

  The driver was a mile down the dirt road, bound securely, lying in the

  border of the tall grass. The area was rarely traveled at night. They were

  in the hills of Colinas Rojas.

  Lyons stepped back and nodded to Spaulding.

  'Get in the car.'

  Lyons nodded again and started toward the automobile. Meehan rolled over

  and looked up at David.

  'You're dead, Spaulding. You got a firing squad on your duty sheet. You're

  stupid, too. Your Nazi friends are going to lose this war I'

  'They'd better,' answered David. 'As to executions, there may be a number

  of them. Right in Washington. That's what this is all about, colonel....

  Someone'll find you both tomorrow. If you like, you can start inching your

  way west. Your driver's a mile or so down the road.... I'm sorry.'

  Spaulding gave Meehan a half-felt shrug of apology and ran to the FMF

  automobile. Lyons sat in the front seat and when the door light spilled

  over his face, David saw his eyes. Wag it possible that in that look there

  was an attempt to communicate a sense of gratitude? Or approval? There

  wasn't time to speculate, so David smiled gently and spoke quietly.

  'This has been terrible for you, I know.... But I can't think what else to

  do. I don't know. If you like, I'll get you back to the embassy. You'll be

  safe there.'

  David started the car and drove up a steep incline - one of many - in the

  Colinas Rojas. He would double back on a parallel road and reach the

  highway within ten or fifteen minutes; he would take Lyons to an outskirts

  taxi and give the driver instructions to deliver the physicist to the

  American embassy. It wasn't really what he wanted to do; but what else was

  there?

  Then the words came from beside him. Wordsl Whispered, muffled, barely

  audible but clear! From the recesses of a tortured throat.

  11 ... stay with . . . you. Together. . .

  Spaulding had to grip the wheel harshly for fear of losing control. The

  shock of the pained speech - and it was a speech for Eugene Lyons - had

  nearly caused him to drop his hands. He turned and looked at the scientist.

  In the flashing shadows he saw Lyons return his stare; the lips were set

  firmly, the eyes steady. Lyons knew exactly what he was doing; what they

  both were

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  doing - had to do.

  'All right,' said David, trying to remain calm and precise. 'I

  read you clearly. God knows I need all the help I can get. We

  both do. It strikes me we've got two powerful enemies. Berlin

  and Washington.' I

  'I don't want any interruptions, Stoltz I' David yelled into the mouthpiece

  of the telephone in the small booth near Ocho Calle. Lyons was now behind

  the wheel of the FMF car ten yards away
on the street. The motor Was

  running. The scientist hadn't driven in twelve years but with half-words

  and gestures he convinced Spaulding he would be capable in an emergency.

  'You can't behave this way!' was the panicked reply.

  'I'm Pavlov, you're the dog! Now shut up and listen I There's a mess in

  Terraza Verde, if you don't know it by now. Your men are dead; so are mine.

  I've got the designs and Lyons.... Your nonexistent Gestapo are carrying

  out a number of executions I'

  'Impossibk1' screamed Stoltz.

  'Tell that to the corpses, you incompetent son of a bitch! While you clean

  up that mess! ... I want the rest of those designs, Stoltz. Wait for my

  calfl' David slammed down the receiver and bolted out of the booth to the

  car. It was time for the radio. After that the envelope from Fairfax. Then

  Ballard at the embassy. One step at a time.

  Spaulding opened the door and slid into the seat beside Lyons. The

  physicist pointed to the dashboard.

  'Again. . .'was the single, painful word.

  'Good,' said Spaulding. 'They're anxious. They'll listen hard.' David

  snapped the panel switch and lifted the microphone out of its cradle. He

  pressed his fingers against the tiny wire speaker with such pressure that

  the mesh was bent; he covered the instrument with his hand and held it

  against his jacket as he spoke, moving it in circles so as to further

  distort the sound.

  'Redbird to base ... Redbird to base.'

  The static began, the voice angry. 'Christ, Redbird! We've been trying to

  raise you for damn near two hours! That Ballard keeps calling! Where the

  hell are you!?'

  'Redbird.... Didn't you get our last transmission?'

  'Transmission? Shit, man! I can hardly hear this one. Hold on; let me get

  the CO.'

  'Forget it I No sweat. You're fading here again. Were on

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  Spaulding. We're following him; he's in a vehicle ... twentyseven,

  twenty-eight miles north. David abruptly stopped talking.

  'Redbird! Redbird I ... Christ, this frequency's puke! ... Twenty-eight

  miles north where? ... I'm not reading you, Redbird! Redbird, acknowledge!'

  '. . . bird, acknowledge,' said David directly into the microphone. 'This

  radio needs maintenance, pal. Repeat. No problems. Will return to base in