Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt

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by The Aquitaine Progression [lit]


  He could not do what you say he did."

  "He's mentally deranged?"

  "My God, no! He's one of the most lucid men

  I've ever met. You have to understand. He went

  through a prolonged period of extreme physical

  stress and mental anguish. He endured punishment,

  to both his body and his mind. There was no

  permanent damage but there are indelible

  memories. Like so many men who've been subjected

  to such treatment, he avoids all forms of physical

  confrontation or abuse. It is repugnant to him. He

  can't inflict punishment because too much was

  inflicted on him."

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 111

  "You mean he would not defend himself, his

  own? He would turn the other cheek if he, or his

  wife, or his children were attacked?"

  "Of course not, but that's not what you described.

  You said 'a particularly vicious assault, implying

  something quite different. And if it were

  otherwise if he were threatened or attacked and

  defended himself he most certainly would not have

  left the scene. He's too fine a lawyer." Mattilon

  paused. "Was that the case? Is that what you're

  saying? Is the injured man known to you from the

  police files? Is he "

  "A limousine chauffeur," interrupted Prudhomme.

  "An unarmed man who was waiting for his assigned

  passenger of the evening."

  "In the cellars?"

  "Apparently it is a customary service and not an

  unfamiliar one. These firms are discreet. This one

  sent another driver to cover before inquiring as to

  their employee's condition. The client would not

  know."

  "Very chic, I'm sure. What do they say happened?"

  "According to a witness, a guard who's been with

  the hotel for eighteen years, this Simon approached

  in a loud voice, speaking English the guard thinks

  angrily, although he does not understand the

  language and forced the man outside."

  "The guard is wrong! It had to be someone else."

  "Simon identified himself. The concierge had

  cleared his departure. The description fits; it was the

  one who called himself Simon."

  "But why? There has to be a reason!"

  "We should like to hear it, monsieur."

  Rene shook his head in bewilderment; nothing

  made sense. A man could register at any hotel under

  any name he wished, of course, but there were

  charges, credit cards, people calling; a false name

  served no purpose. Especially at a hotel where one

  was presumably known, and if one was known and

  chose to travel incogmto, that status would not be

  protected if a front desk was questioned by the

  Surete. "I must ask you again, Inspector, have you

  checked thoroughly with the hotel?"

  "Not personally, monsieur," replied Prudhomme,

  looking at his associate. "My time was taken up

  interrogating those in the vicinity of the assault."

  "I checked with the concierge myself, monsieur," said

  112 ROBERT LUDLUM

  the younger, taller man, speaking like a

  programmed robot. ' Naturally, the hotel is not

  anxious for the incident to receive attention, was

  cooperative. The night concierge is newly employed

  from the Hotel Meurice and wished to minimize the

  incident, but he himself showed me the registration

  form. '

  I see." And Matfflon did see, at least insofar as

  Joel's identity was concerned. Hundreds of guests at

  a large hotel and a nervous concierge protecting his

  new employer's image. The obvious source was

  accepted as truth, another truth no doubt

  forthcoming in the morning from more knowl-

  edgeable men. But that was all Rene

  understood nothing else. He needed a few

  moments to think, to try to understand.

  `I'm curious," he said, reaching for words. '`At

  worst, this is an assault with severe results, but

  nevertheless an assault. Why isn't it a simple police

  matter? Why the Surete?"

  `My first question, monsieur," said the

  plainspoken Prudhomme. The reason given us was

  that the incident involved a foreigner, obviously a

  wealthy foreigner. One does not know these days

  where such things may lead. We have certain

  controls not available to the arrond~ssement police.

  '

  PI see.

  Ado you?" asked the man from the Surete. May

  I remind you that as an attorney you have an

  obligation to uphold the courts and the law? You

  have been offered our credentials and I have

  suggested you call my station for any further

  verification you might wish. Please, monsieur, who

  is Henry Simon?"

  PI have other obligations, as well, Inspector. To

  my word, to a client, to an old friendship "

  You put these above the law?"

  Only because I know you're wrong"

  .Then where is the harm? If we are wrong, we

  shall find this Simon undoubtedly at an airport and

  he will tell us himself. But if we are not, we may

  find a very sick man who needs help. Before he

  harms others. I am no psychiatrist, monsieur, but

  you have described a troubled man a once

  troubled man, in any event. '

  Matfflon was uncomfortable with the blunt

  official's logic . . . and also something else he could

  not define. Was it Joel? Was it the clouds in his old

  friend's eyes, the unconscious verbal slip about a

  blemished rock in the dirt? Rene looked again at

  the clock on the mantel; a thought occurred to him.

  It was only eight-forty-two in New York.

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 113

  "Inspector, I'm going to ask you to wait here

  while I go into my study and make a phone call on

  my private line. The line, incidentally, is not

  connected to the telephone on the table."

  "That was unnecessary, monsieur."

  "Then I apologise."

  Mattilon walked rapidly to a door on the

  opposite side of the room, opened it and went inside.

  He crossed to his desk, where he sat down and

  opened a red-leather telephone index. He flipped the

  pages to the letter T. scanning the names until he

  reached Talbot, Lawrence. He had both the office

  and the house number; the latter was necessary

  because the courts in Paris were in operation before

  the East Coast of America was out of bed. If Talbot

  was not there, he would try Nathan Simon, then

  Brooks, if he had to. Neither alternative was nec-

  essary. Lawrence Talbot answered the phone.

  "I'll be damned, how are you, Rene? You in New

  York?" "No, Paris."

  "Sounds like you're down the block."

  "So do you. It's always startling."

  "It's also late where you are, if I'm not mistaken."

  "It's very late, Larry. We may have a problem,

  that's why I'm calling."

  "A problem? I didn't even know we had any

  business going. What is it?"

  "Your missionary work."

  "Our what?"
/>
  "Bertholdier. His friends."

  "W7lo?"

  "Jacques-Louis Bertholdier."

  "Who is he? I've heard the name but I can't place

  him." "You can't . . . place him?"

  "Sorry."

  "I've been with Joel. I arranged the meeting."

  "Joel? How is he? Is he in Paris now?"

  "You weren't aware of it?"

  "Last time I spoke with him was two days ago in

  Geneva after that awful business with Halliday. He

  told me he was all right, but he wasn't. He was

  shaken up."

  "Let me understand you, Larry. Joel is not in

  Paris on business for Talbot, Brooks and Simon, is

  that what you're saying?"

  114 ROBERT LUDLUM

  Lawrence Talbot paused before answering. "No,

  he's not," said the senior partner softly. "Did he say

  he was?"

  "Perhaps I just assumed it."

  Again Talbot paused. "I don't think you'd do

  that. But I do think you should tell Joel to call me."

  "That's part of the problem, Larry. I don't know

  where he is. He said he was taking the five o'clock

  plane for London, but he didn't. He checked out of

  the George Cinq quite a bit later under very odd

  circumstances."

  'What do you mean?"

  His hotel registration was altered, changed to

  another name a name I suggested, incidentally, as

  he didn't wish to use his own at lunch. Then he

  insisted on leaving by way of some basement

  delivery entrance."

  "That's strange."

  "I'm afraid it's the least of the oddities. They say

  he assaulted a man. He may have killed him."

  'lesus!"

  41 don t believe it, of course," said Mattilon

  quickly. `He wouldn't, he couldn't ,

  "I hope not."

  4Certainly you don't think "

  1 don't know what to think," interrupted

  Talbot. When he was in Ceneva and we talked, I

  asked him if there was any connection between

  llalliday's death and what he was doing. He said

  there wasn't, but he was so remote, so distant; his

  voice sounded hollow."

  `What he's doing . . . ? What is he doing?"

  -1 don't know. I'm not even sure I can find out,

  but I'll do my damnedest. I tell you, I'm worried.

  Something's happened to him. His voice was like an

  echo chamber, do you know what I mean?',

  Byes, I do," said Mattilon quietly. 41 heard him,

  I saw hirn. I'm worried too."

  'Find him, Rene. Do whatever you can. Give me

  the word and I'll drop everything and By over. He's

  hurting somewhere, somehow."

  "I'll do what I can.',

  Mattilon walked out of his study and faced the

  two men from the police.

  His name is Converse, Joel Converse," he began.

  * * *

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 115

  "His name is Converse, first nameJoel," said the

  younger, taller man from the Surete, speaking into

  the mouthpiece of a pay phone on the Boulevard

  Raspail, as the rain pounded the booth. "He's

  employed by a law firm in New York: Talbot, Brooks

  and Simon; the address is on Fifth Avenue. The as-

  sumed name, Simon, however, was apparently a

  convenience, and not related to the firm."

  "I don't understand."

  "Whatever this Converse is involved with has

  nothing to do with his employers. Mattilon reached

  one of the partners in New York and it was made

  clear to him. Also both men are concerned, worried;

  they wish to be kept informed. If Converse is found,

  Mattilon insists on immediate access to him as the

  attorney of record. He may be holding back, but in

  my judgment he's genuinely bewildered. In shock,

  might be more accurate. He knows nothing of

  consequence. I could tell if he did."

  "Nevertheless, he is holding back. The name

  Simon was used for my benefit so I would not learn

  the identity of this Converse. Mattilon knows that; he

  was there and they are friends and he brought him

  to Luboque."

  "Then he was manipulated, General. He did not

  mention

  you."

  "He might if he's questioned further. I cannot be

  involved in any way."

  "Of course not," agreed the man from the SCrete

  with quiet emphasis.

  "Your superior, what's his name? The one

  assigned to the incident."

  "Prudhomme. Inspector First Grade Prudhomme."

  "Is he frank with you?"

  "Yes. He thinks I'm something of a mechanical

  ex-soldier whose instincts may outdistance his

  intellect, but he sees that I'm willing. He talks to

  me."

  "You'll be kept with him for a while. Should he

  decide to go back and see Mattilon, let me know

  immediately. Paris may lose a respected attorney. My

  name must not surface."

  "He would go back to Mattilon only if Converse

  was found. And if word came to the Surete as to his

  whereabouts, I'd reach you instantly."

  "There could be another reason, Colonel. One

  that might provoke a persistent man into

  reexamining his progress or lack of it in spite of

  orders to the contrary."

  116 ROBERT LUDLUM

  ' Orders to the contrary, sir?"

  "They will be issued. This Converse is solely our

  concern now. All we needed was a name. We know

  where he's heading. We'll find him."

  "I don't understand, General."

  "News has come from the hospital. Our

  chauffeur has taken a turn for the better."

  "Good news, indeed."

  "I wish it were. The sacrifice of a single soldier

  is abhorrent to any field commander, but the

  broader tactics must be kept in view, they must be

  served. Do you agree?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "Our chauffeur must not recover. The larger

  strategy Colonel."

  "If he dies, the efforts to find Converse will be

  intensified. And you're right, Prudhomme will

  reexamine everything, including the lawyer,

  Mattilon."

  "Orders to the contrary will be issued. But watch

  him."

  "Yes, sir."

  "And now we need your expertise, Colonel. The

  talents you developed so proficiently while in the

  service of the Legion before we brought you back to

  a more civilized life."

  "My gratitude isn't shallow. Whatever I can do."

  "Can you get inside the Hospital of Saint Jerome

  with as little notice as possible?"

  "With no notice. There are fire escapes on all

  sides of the building and it's a dark night, heavy

  with rain. Even the police stay in doorways. It's

  child's play."

  "But man's work. It has to be done."

  "I don't question such decisions."

  "A blockage in the windpipe, a convulsion in the

  throat."

  "Pressure applied through cloth, sir. Gradually

  and with no marks, a patient's self-induced

  trauma.... But I would be derelict if I didn't repeat

  what I said, General. There'll be a search of Paris,<
br />
  then a large-scale manhunt. The killer will be

  presumed to be a rich American, an inviting target

  for the Surete."

  "There'll be no search, no manhunt. Not yet. If

  it is to be it will come later, and if it does, a

  convicted corpse will be trapped in the net.... Go

  into the field, my young friend. The chauffeur,

  Colonel; the broader strategy must be served."

  "He's dead," said the man in the telephone

  booth, and hung up.

  5

  Erich Leifhelm . . . born March 15,1912, in Mu-

  nich to Dr. Heinrich Leifhelm and his mistress,

  Marta Stoessel. Although the stigma of his illegiti-

  macy precluded a normal childhood in the

  upper-middle-class, morality-conscious Cermany of

  those years, it was the single most important factor in

  his later preeminence in the National Socialist

  movement. At birth he was denied the name of Leif-

  helm; until 1931 he was known as Erich Stoessel.

  Joel sat at a table in the open cafe in

  Copenhagen's Kastrup Airport, trying to concentrate.

  It was his second attempt within the past twenty

 

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