Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt

by The Aquitaine Progression [lit]

  France, and Germany to groups of insurgents in all

  the troubled areas. There are rurnors out of Munich,

  the Mediterranean and the Arab states. The talk is

  in terms of final preparations, but no one seems to

  know what exactly for except that all of them must

  be ready. It's as though such groups as

  Baader-Meinhof, the Brigate Rosse, the PLO, and

  the red legions of Paris and Madrid were all in a

  race with none knowing the course, only the moment

  when it begins."

  'When is that?"

  "Our reports vary, but they're all within the same

  time span. Within three to five weeks."

  "Oh, my God." Joel suddenly remembered.

  "Avery Halliday whispered something to me just

  before he died. Words that were spoken by the men

  who shot him. Aquitaine . . . 'They said it was for

  Aquitaine.' Those were the words he whispered.

  What do they mean, Beale?"

  The old scholar was silent, his eyes alive in the

  moonlight. He slowly turned his head and stared out

  at the water. "It's madness," he whispered.

  "That doesn't tell me anything."

  "No, of course not," said Beale apologetically,

  turning back to Converse. "It's simply the magnitude

  of it all. It's so incredible."

  "I'm not reading you."

  "Aquitaine Aquitania, as Julius Caesar called

  it was the name given to a region in southwestern

  France that at one time in the first centuries after

  Christ was said to have extended from the Atlantic,

  across the Pyrenees to the Mediterranean, and as far

  north as the mouth of the Loire west of Paris on the

  coast "

  "I'm vaguely aware of that," Joel broke in, too

  impatient for an academic dissertation.

  "If you are, you're to be commended. Most

  people are only aware of the later centuries say,

  from the eighth on when Charlemagne conquered

  the region, formed the kingdom of Aquitaine and

  bestowed it on his son Louis, and his

  48 ROBERT LUDLUM

  sons Pepin One and Two. Actually, these and the

  following three hundred years are the most

  pertinent. '

  'To what?"

  "The legend of Aquitaine, Mr. Converse. Like

  many ambitious generals, Delavane sees himself as

  a student of history in the tradition of Caesar,

  Napoleon, Clausewitz . . . even Patton. I was rightly

  or wrongly considered a scholar, but he remains a

  student, and that's as it should be. Scholars can't

  take liberties without substantive evidence or they

  shouldn't but students can and usually do."

  "What's your point?"

  "The legend of Aquitaine becomes convoluted,

  the what-if syndrome riding over the facts until

  theoretical assumptions are made that distort the

  evidence. You see, the story of Aquitaine is filled

  with sudden, massive expansions and abrupt

  contractions. To simplify, an imaginative student of

  history might say that had there not been political,

  marital and military miscalculations on the part of

  Charlemagne and his son, the two Pepins, and later

  Louis the Seventh of France and Henry the Second

  of England, both of whom were married to the

  extraordinary Eleanor, the kingdom of Aquitaine

  might have encompassed most if not all of Europe."

  Beale paused. "Do you begin to understand?" he

  asked.

  "Yes," said Joel. "Christ, yes. "

  "That's not all," continued the scholar. "Since

  Aquitaine was once considered a legitimate

  possession of England, it might in time have

  enveloped all of her foreign colonies, including the

  original thirteen across the Atlantic later the

  United States of America.... Of course,

  miscalculations or not, it could never have happened

  because of a fundamental law of Western

  civilisation, valid since the-deposition of Romulus

  Augustulus and the collapse of the Roman empire.

  You cannot crush, then unite by force and rule

  disparate peoples and their cultures not for any

  length of time."

  "Someone's trying to now," said Converse.

  "George Marcus Delavane."

  "Yes. In his mind he's constructed the Aquitaine

  that never was, never could be. And it's profoundly

  terrifying."

  "Why? You just said it couldn't happen."

  "Not according to the old rules, not in any

  period since the fall of Rome. But you must

  remember, there's never been a time in recorded

  history like this one. Never such weapons, such

  anxiety. Delavane and his people know that, and

  they

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 49

  will play upon those weapons, those anxieties. They

  are playing upon them. 'The old man pointed to the

  sheet of paper in Joel's hand. 'You have matches.

  Strike one and look at the names."

  Converse unfolded the sheet, reached into his

  pocket and took out his lighter. He snapped it, and

  as the flame illuminated the paper he studied the

  names. "Jesus!" he said, frowning. 'They fit in with

  Delavane. It's a gathering of warlords, if they're the

  men I think they are." Joel extinguished the flame.

  "They are," replied Beale, "starting with General

  Jacques-Louis Bertholdier in Paris, a remarkable

  man, quite extraordinary. A Resistance fighter in the

  war, given the rank of major before he was twenty,

  but later an unreconstructed member of Salan's

  OAS. He was behind an assassination attempt on De

  Caulle in August of '62, seeing himself as the true

  leader of the republic. He nearly made it. He

  believed then as he believes now that the Algerian

  generals were the salvation of an enfeebled France.

  He has survived not only because he's a legend, but

  because his voice isn't alone only he's more

  persuasive than most. Especially with the elite crowd

  of promising commanders produced by Saint-Cyr.

  Quite simply, he's a fascist, a fanatic hiding behind

  a screen of eminent respectability."

  "And the one named Abrahms," said Converse.

  "He's the Israeli strong man who struts around in a

  safari jacket and boots, isn't he? The screecher who

  holds rallies in front of the Knesset and in the

  stadiums, telling everyone there'll be a bloodbath in

  Judea and Samaria if the children of Abraham are

  denied. Even the Israelis can't shut him up."

  "Many are afraid to; he's become electrifying, like

  lightning, a symbol. Chaim Abrahms and his

  followers make the Begin regime seem like reticent,

  self-effacing pacifists. He's a sabre tolerated by the

  EuropeanJews because he's a brilliant soldier, proven

  in two wars, and has enjoyed the respect if not the

  affection of every Minister of Defense since the

  early years of Golda Meir. They never know when

  they might need him in the field."

  "And this one," said Joel, again using his lighter.

  "Van Headmer. South African, isn't he? The
>
  'hangman in uniform' or something like that."

  "Jan van Headmer, the 'slayer of Soweto,' as the

  blacks call him. He executes 'offenders' with

  alarming frequency and

  50 ROBERT LUDLUM

  government tolerance. His family is old-line

  Amkaner, all generals going back to the Boer War,

  and he sees no reason on earth to bring Pretoria

  into the twentieth century. Incidentally, he's a close

  friend of Abrahms and makes frequent trips to Tel

  Aviv. He's also one of the most erudite and charm-

  ing general officers ever to attend a diplomatic

  conference. His presence denies his image and

  reputation."

  ' And Leifhelm," said Converse, coming to the

  last of the foreign names. "A mixed bag, if I'm

  accurate. Supposedly a great soldier who followed

  too many orders, but still respected. I'm weakest on

  him."

  "Entirely understandable," said Beale, nodding.

  'In some ways his is the oddest story the most

  monstrous, really, because the truth has been

  consistently covered up so as to use him and avoid

  embarrassment. Field Marshal Erich Leifhelm was

  the youngest general ever commissioned by Adolf

  Hitler. He foresaw Germany's collapse and made a

  sudden about-face. From brutal killer and a fanatic

  super-Aryan to a contrite professional who abhorred

  the Nazis' crimes as they were 'revealed' to him. He

  fooled everyone and was absolved of all guilt; he

  never saw a Nuremberg courtroom. During the cold

  war the Allies used his services extensively, granting

  him full security clearances, and later in the fifties

  when the new German divisions were mounted for

  the NATO forces, they made sure he was put in

  command."

  "Weren't there a couple of newspaper stories

  about him a few years ago? He had several run-ins

  with Helmut Schmidt, didn't he?"

  "Exactly," agreed the scholar. "But those stories

  were soft and carried only half the story. Leifhelm

  was quoted as saying merely that the German

  people could not be expected to carry the burden of

  past guilt into future generations. It had to stop.

  Pride should once more be established in the

  nation's heritage. There was some saber rattling

  aimed at the Soviets, but nothing substantively

  beyond that."

  "What was the other half?" asked Converse.

  "He wanted the Bundestag's restrictions on the

  armed forces lifted completely, and fought for the

  expansion of the intelligence services, patterned

  after the Abwohr, including rehabilitation sentences

  for political troublemakers. He also sought extensive

  deletions in German textbooks throughout the

  school systems. 'Pride has to be restored,' he kept

  saying,

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 51

  and everything he said was in the name of virulent

  anti-Communism."

  ' The Third Reich's first strategy in everything

  when Hitler took over."

  'You're quite right. Schmidt saw through him and

  knew there'd be chaos if he had his way and he was

  influential. Bonn could not afford the specterof

  painful memories. Schmidt forced Leifhelrn to resign

  and literally removed his voice from all government

  affairs."

  "But he keeps speaking."

  "Not openly. However, he's rich and retains his

  friends and contacts."

  "Among them Delavane and his people."

  "Foremost among them now.'

  Joel once more snapped his lighter and scanned

  the lower part of the page. There were two lists of

  names, the row on the left under the heading State

  Department, the right under Pentagon. There were

  perhaps twenty-five people in all. "Who are the

  Americans?" He released the lever; the flame died

  and he put the lighter back in his pocket. "The

  names don't mean anything to me."

  "Some should, but it doesn't matter," said Beale

  elliptically. "The point is that among those men are

  disciples of George Delavane. They carry out his

  orders. How many of them is difficult to say, but at

  least several from each grouping. You see, these are

  the men who make the decisions or conversely, do

  not oppose decisions without which Delavane and

  his followers would be stopped in their tracks."

  "Spell that out."

  "Those on the left are key figures in the State

  Department's Office of Munitions Control. They

  determine what gets cleared for export, who under

  the blanket of 'rational interest' can receive weapons

  and technology withheld from others. On the right

  are the senior officers at the Pentagon on whose

  word millions upon millions are spent for armament

  procurements. All are decision makers and a

  number of those decisions have been questioned, a

  few openly, others quietly by diplomatic and military

  colleagues. We've learned that much "

  "Questioned? Why?" interrupted Converse.

  "There were rumors there always are

  rumors of large shipments improperly licensed for

  export. Then there's surplus military

  equipment excess supplies lost in transfers

  52 ROBERT LUDLUM

  from temporary warehouses and out-of-the-way

  storage depots. Surplus equipment is easily

  unaccounted for, it's an embarrassment in these

  days of enormous budgets and cost overruns. Get

  rid of it and don't be too particular. How fortunate

  in these instances and coincidental if a member

  of this Aquitaine shows up, willing to buy and with

  all his papers in order. Whole depots and

  warehouses are sent where they shouldn't be sent."

  "A Libya connection?"

  "There's no doubt of it. A great many connections."

  "Halliday mentioned it and you said it a few

  moments ago. Laws broken arms, equipment,

  technological information sent to people who

  shouldn't have them. They break loose on cue and

  there's disruption, terrorism "

  "Justifying military responses," old Beale broke

  in. "That's part of Delavane's concept. Justifiable

  escalation of armed might, the commanders in

  charge, the civilians helpless, forced to listen to

  them, obey them."

  "But you just said questions were raised."

  "And answered with such worn-out phrases as

  'national security' and 'adversarial disinformation' to

  stop or throw off the curious."

  "That's obstruction. Can't they be caught at it?.'

  "By whom? With what?"

  "Damn it, the questions themselves!" replied

  Converse. "Those improper export licenses, the

  military transfers that got lost, merchandise that

  can't be traced."

  "By people without the clearances to go around

  security classifications, or lacking the expertise to

  understand the complexities of export licensing."

  "That's nonsense," insisted Joel. "You said some

  of those questions were asked by diplomatic
/>   personnel, military colleagues, men who certainly

  had the clearances and the expertise."

  "And who suddenly, magically, didn't ask them

  any longer. Of course, many may have been

  persuaded that the questions were, indeed, beyond

  their legitimate purviews; others may have been too

  frightened to penetrate for fear of involvement;

  others still, forced to back off frankly threatened.

  Regardless, behind it all there are those who do the

  convincing, and they're growing in numbers

  everywhere."

  "Christ, it's a a network," said Converse softly.

  The scholar looked hard at Joel, the night light on

  the

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 53

  water reflecting across the old man's pale, lined face.

  "Yes, Mr. Converse, a 'network.' That word was

  whispered to me by a man who thought I was one of

  them. 'The network,' he said. 'The network will take

  care of you.' He meant Delavane and his people."

  "Why did they think you were a part of them?"

  The old man paused. He looked briefly away at

  the shimmering Aegean, then back at Converse.

  "Because that man thought it was logical. Thirty

  years ago I took off a uniform, trading it for the

  Harris tweeds and unkempt hair of a university

  professor. Few of my colleagues could understand,

  for, you see, I was one of the elite, perhaps a later,

  American version of Erich Leifhelm a brigadier

  general at thirty-eight, and the Joint Chiefs were

  conceivably my next assignment. But where the

  collapse of Berlin and the G6tterdammerung in the