turned and reached for the outsized brass knob.
"Bonn, Germany," pressed Joel.
"I heard you. I haven't the vaguest notion what
you "
"Leifhelm," said Converse quietly. "Erich Leifhelm."
The soldier's head turned slowly; his eyes were
banked fires, the coals glowing, about to erupt at
the merest gust of wind. "A name known to me, but
not the man."
"Tell him I'm coming."
"Good night, monsieur," said Bertholdier,
opening the door, his face ashen.
Joel raced into the bedroom, grabbed his
suitcase and threw it on the luggage rack. He had to
get out of Paris. Within hours, perhaps minutes,
Bertholdier would have him watched, and if he was
followed to an airport, his passport would expose
the name Simon as a lie. He could not let that
happen, not yet.
It was strange, unsettling. He had never had any
reason to leave a hotel surreptitiously, and he was
not sure he knew how to do it only that it had to
be done. The altering of the registration card had
been done instinctively, there were occasions when
legal negotiations had to be kept quiet for every-
one's benefit. But this was different it was
abnormal. He had said to Beale on Mykonos that he
was going to become someone he was not. It was an
easy thing to say, not at all easy to do.
His suitcase packed, he checked the battery
charge on his electric razor and absently turned it
on, moving it around his chin, as he walked to the
bedside telephone. He shut the switch off as he
dialed, unsure of what he would say to the night
concierge but nevertheless instinctively orienting his
mind to a business approach. After initial remarks,
mutually flattering, the words came.
"There's an extremely sensitive situation, and my
firm is anxious that I leave for London just as soon
as possible and as discreetly as possible. Frankly,
I would prefer not to be seen checking out."
"Discretion, monsieur, is honored here, and haste is
a
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 99
normal request. I shall come up and present your bill
myself. Say, ten minutes?"
"I've only one piece of luggage. I'll carry it, but
I'll need a cab. Not in front."
"Not in front, of course. The freight elevator,
monsieur. It connects below with our corridor for
deliveries. Arrangements will be made."
"I ve made arrangementst" said Bertholdier
harshly into the limousine's mobile phone, the glass
partition between him and the chauffeur tightly shut.
"One man remains in the gallery in sight of the
elevators, another in the cellars where the hotel
supplies are brought in. If he attempts to leave
during the night, it is the only other exit available to
him. I've used it myself on several occasions."
"This . . . is all most difficult to absorb." The
voice on the line spoke with a clipped British accent,
the speaker obviously astonished, his breathing
audible, a man suddenly afraid. "Are you sure?
Could there be some other linkage?"
"Imbecile! I repeat. He knew about the munitions
shipment from Beloit! He knew the routing, even the
method of theft. He went so far as to identify
Solidaire and my position as a board member! He
made a direct reference to our business associate in
Bonnl Then to Tel Aviv . . .lohannesburgl What
other linkage could there be?"
"Corporate entanglements, perhaps. One can't
rule them out. Multinational subsidiaries, munitions
investments, our associate in West Germany also sits
on several boards.... And the locations money pours
into them."
"What in the name of God do you think I'm
talking about? I can say no more now, but what I've
told you, my English flower, take it to be the worstl"
There was a brief silence from London. "I
understand," said the voice of a subordinate rebuked.
"I hope you do. Get in touch with New York. His
name is Simon, Henry Simon. He's an attorney from
Chicago. I have the address; it's from the hotel's
registration file." Bertholdier squinted under the
glare of the reading lamp, haltingly deciphering the
numbers and the numbered street written down by
an assistant bell captain, well paid by one of the
general's men to go into the office and obtain
information on the occupant of suite two-three-five.
"Do you have that?"
"Yes." The voice was now sharp, a subordinate about
to
100 ROBERT LUDLUM
redress a grievance. Was it wise to get it that way?
A friend or a greedy employee might tell him
someone was inquiring about him.'
"Really, my British daffodil? An innocuous
bellboy checking the registry so as to post a lost
garment to a recent guest?"
Again the brief silence. ' Yes, I see. You know,
Jacques, we work for a great cause a business
cause, of course more important than either of us,
as we did once years ago. I must constantly remind
myself of that, or I don't think I could tolerate your
insults."
And what would be your recourse, I'Anglais?"
'To cut your arrogant Frog balls off in Trafalgar
Square and stuff them in a lion's mouth. The
repository wouldn't have to be large; an ancient
crack would do. I'll ring you up in an hour or so.''
There was a click and the line went dead.
The soldier lowered the mobile phone in his
hand, and a smile slowly emerged on his lips. They
were the best, all of theml They were the hope, the
only hope of a very sick world.
Then the smile faded, the blood again draining
from his face, arrogance turning into fear. What did
this Henry Simon want, really want? Who was the
unknown man with access to extraordinary
sources planes, vehicles, munitions? What in God's
name did they know?
The padded elevator descended slowly, its
interior designed for moving furniture and luggage,
its speed adjusted for room-service deliveries. The
night concierge stood beside Joel, his face pleasantly
impassive; in his right hand was the leather bourse
containing a copy of Converse's bill and the franc
notes covering it as well as a substantial gratuity
for the Frenchman's courtesy.
A slight whirring sound preceded the stop; the
panel light shone behind the letters sou-so~, and
the heavy doors parted. Beyond in the wide hallway
was a platoon of whitejacketed waiters, maids,
porters and a few maintenance personnel
commandeering tables racks of linens, luggage and
assorted cleaning materials. Loud, rapid chatter,
heightened by bursts of laughter and guttural
expletives, accompanied the bustling activity. At the
sight of the concierge there was a perceptible
lessening of volume an
d an increase of concentrated
move
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 101
meet, along with nods and fawning smiles directed at
the man who, with the flick of a pen, could eliminate
their jobs.
"If you'll just point me in the right direction, I ll
be on my way," said Joel, not wishing to call further
attention to himself in the company of the concierge.
'I've taken up too much of your time."
"Merct. If you will follow that corridor, it will lead
to the service exit," replied the Frenchman, pointing
to a hallway on the left, beyond the bank of
elevators. "The guard is at his desk and is aware of
your departure. Outside in the alley, turn right and
walk to the street; your taxi is waiting for you."
"I appreciate my firm appreciates your
cooperation. As I mentioned upstairs, there's nothing
really that secretive, or unusual just sensitive."
The hotel man's impassive countenance did not
change, except for a slightly sharper focus in his eyes.
"It is of no matter, monsieur, an explanation is not
required. I did not request it, and if you'll forgive
me, you should not feel an obligation to offer one.
Au rewir, Monsieur Simon."
"Yes, of course," said Converse, maintaining his
composure though he felt like a schoolboy
admonished for speaking out of turn, for offering an
answer when he had not been called upon. "See you
next time I'm in Paris."
"We await the day, monsieur. Bonsotr."
Joel turned quickly, making his way through the
uniformed crowd toward the hallway, apologising
whenever his suitcase made contact with a body. He
had just been taught a lesson, one he should not
have had to learn. He knew it in a courtroom and in
conference: Never explain what you don't have to.
Shut up. But this was not a court or a conference. It
was, it suddenly dawned on him, an escape, and the
realization was a little frightening, certainly very
strange. Or was it? Escape was in his vocabulary, in
his experience. He had tried it three times before in
his life years ago. And death had been everywhere.
He put the thought out of his mind and walked down
the corridor toward the large metal door in the
distance.
He slowed down; something was wrong. Ahead,
standing in front of the security desk talking to the
guard was a man in a light-colored topcoat. Joel had
seen him before but he did not know where; then the
man moved and Converse began to remember an
image came back to him. Another man had moved
the same way taking several steps backward before
102 ROBERT LUDLUM
turning to disappear from an archway, and now he
moved the same way to cross the corridor to lean
against the wall. Was it the same man? Yes! It was
the one who had accompanied Bertholdier to the
dining-room entrance of L'Etalon Blanc. The
subordinate who had taken leave of a superior then
was here now under orders from that same superior.
The man looked up, the flash of recognition
instantly in his eyes. Stretching, he raised himself to
his full height and turned away, his hand slowly
moving toward the fold in his coat. Converse was
stunned. Was the man actually reaching for a gun ?
With an armed guard barely ten feet away? It was
insane! Joel stopped; he considered racing back into
the crowd by the elevators but knew it was pointless.
If Bertholdier had posted a watchdog in the
basement, others would be upstairs, in the corridors,
in the lobby. He could not turn and run; there was
no place to go, nowhere to hide. So he kept
walking, now faster, directly toward the man in the
light-brown topcoat, his mind confused, his throat
tight.
"There you arel"he cried out loud, not sure the
words were his. "The general told me where to find
your"
The man stood motionless, in shock, speechless.
"Le general2" he said, barely above a whisper. "He .
. . tell you?"
The man's English was not good, and that was
very good. He could understand, but not well.
Rapidly spoken words, persuasively delivered, might
get them both out the door. Joel turned to the
guard while angling his attache case into his
companion's back. "My name's Simon. I believe the
concierge spoke to you about me."
The juxtaposition of the name and the title was
sufficient for the bewildered guard. He glanced at
his papers, nodding. "One monsieur. Le concierge . .
."
"Come on!" Converse shoved the attache case
into the man in the topcoat, propelling him toward
the door. "The general's waiting for us outside. Let's
gal Hurry up!"
"Le general . ?" The man's hands instinctively
shot out at the crash bar of the exit door, in less
than five seconds he and Joel were alone in the
alley. "Que se passe-toil? Oil est le general?... Where?"
"Here! He said to wait here. You. You're to
wait here! Ici!"
"Arre^tez!" The man was recovering. He stood
his ground. Thrusting his left hand out, he pushed
Converse back against the wall. With his right hand
he reached into his overcoat.
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 103
"Don't!" Joel dropped his attache case, gripping
his suitcase and pulling it up in front of him, about
to rush forward. He stopped. The man did not pull
out a gun; instead, what he had was a thin
rectangular object bound in black leather, from
which a long metallic needle rose from the narrow
flat top. An antenna . . . a radial
All thought was blurred for Converse, but he
knew he had to act instantly only mobon counted.
He could not permit the man to use that radio,
alerting those with other radios elsewhere in the
hotel. With a sudden surge of strength he rammed
his suitcase into the man's knees, tearing the radio
away with his left hand, whipping his right arm out
and over the man's shoulder. He crooked his elbow
around the Frenchman's neck as he spun on the
pavement. Then without thinking, he yanked
Bertholdier's soldier forward, so that both of them
hurtled toward the wall, and crashed the man's head
into the stone. Blood spread throughout the
Frenchman's skull, matUng his hair and streaking
down his face in deep-red rivulets. Joel could not
think, he could not allow himself to think. If he did,
he would be sick and he knew it. Mobon, ma lion!
The man went limp. Converse angled the
unconscious body by the shoulders, propelling it
against the wall, shoving it away from the metal door
and letting it drop in the farther shadows. He leaned
down and picked up the radio; he snapped off the
antenna and shoved the case into his pocket. He
stood up, confused, frightened, trying to orient
&n
bsp; himself. Then, grabbing his attache case and suitcase,
he raced breathlessly out of the alley, conscious of
the blood that had somehow erupted over part of his
face. The taxi was at the curb, the driver smoking a
cigarette in the darkness, oblivious to the violence
that had taken place only thirty yards away.
"De Gaulle Airport!' shouted Joel, opening the
door and throwing his luggage inside. "Please, I'm in
a hurry!" He lurched into the seat, gasping, his neck
stretched above the cushioned rim, swallowing the air
that would not fill his lungs.
The rushing lights and shadows that bombarded
the interior of the cab served to keep his thoughts
suspended, allowing his racing pulse to decelerate
and the air to reach him, slowly drying the
perspiration at his temples and his neck. He leaned
forward, wanUng a cigarette but afraid he would
vomit from the smoke trapped in his throat. He shut
his eyes so tightly a thousand specks of white light
assaulted the dark
104 ROBERT LUDLUM
screen of his mind. He felt ill, and he knew it was
not simply fear alone that had brought on the
nausea. It was something else, something that was in
and of itself as paralysing fear. He had committed
an act of utter brutality, and it both shocked and
appalled him. He had actually physically attacked a
man, wanUng to cripple him, perhaps kill
him which he may very well have done. No matter
why, he may have killed another human being! Did
the presence of a hand-held radio justify a shattered
skull? Did it constitute self-defence? Goddamn it, he
was a man of words, of logic, not blood! Never
blood, that was in the past, so long ago and so
Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt Page 16
