other. Yet during those occasions when
Leifhelm was summoned to French
headquarters in Berlin, the formalities were
icily proper, with names rarely used and
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 163
certainly never first names, only ranks and titles. In
recent years, as noted above, both men have denied
knowing each other personally, albeit admitting their
paths may have crossed.
Where previously acknowledgment of their
friendship was discouraged because of traditional
prejudices, the current reasons are far more under-
standable. Both are spearheads in the Delavane
organization. The names on the primary list are there
with good reason. They are influential men who sit
on the boards of multinational corporations that deal
in products and technology ranging from the building
of dams to the construction of nuclear plants; in
between are a hundred likely subsidiaries throughout
Europe and Africa which could easily expedite sales
of armaments. As detailed in the following pages, it
can be assumed that Leifhelm and Bertholdier
communicate through a woman named Ilse Fishbein
in Bonn. Fishbein is her married name, the marriage
itself questionable in terms of motive insofar as it
was dissolved years ago when Yakov Fishbein, a
survivor of the camps, emigrated to Israel. Frau
Fishbein, born in 1942, is the youngest illegiti: mate
daughter of Hermann Goring.
Converse put down the dossier and reached for
a memo pad next to the telephone on the bedside
table. He then unclipped from his shirt pocket the
gold Carher ball-point pen Val had given him years
ago and wrote down the name Ilse Fishbein. He
studied both the pen and the name. The Cartier
status symbol was a remembrance of better days no,
not really better, but at least more complete. Valerie,
at his insistence, had finally quit the New York
advertising agency, with its insane hours, and gone
free-lance. On her last day of formal work, she had
walked across town to Cartier and spent a con-
siderable portion of her last paycheck for his gift.
When he asked her what he had done outside of his
meteoric rise in Talbot, Brooks and Simon to deserve
a gift of such impractical opulence, she had replied:
"For making me do what I should have done a long
time ago. On the other hand, if free-lancing doesn't
pay off, I'll steal it back and pawn it.... What the hell,
you'll probably lose it."
164 ROBERT LUDLUM
Free-lancing had paid off very well, indeed, and
he had never lost the pen.
Ilse Fishbein gave rise to another kind of
thought. As much as he would like to confront her,
it was out of the question. Whatever Erich
LeifLelm knew had been provided by Bertholdier in
Paris and relayed by Frau Fishbein here in Bonn.
And the communication obviously contained a
detailed description as well as a warning; the
American was dangerous. Ilse Fishbein, as a trusted
confidante in Aquitaine, could undoubtedly lead
him to others in Germany who were part of
Delavane's network, but to approach her was to ask
for his own . . . whatever it was they intended for
him at the moment, and he was not ready for that.
Sbil, it was a name, a piece of information, a fact
he was not expected to have, and experience had
taught him to keep such details up front and reveal
them, spring them quietly when the moment was
right. Or use them himself when no one was
looking. He was a lawyer, and the ways of adversary
law were labyrinthine; whatever was withheld was
no-man's-land. On either side, to the more patient,
the spoils.
Yet the temptation was so damned inviting. The
bloodline of Hermann Goring involved with the
contemplated resurrection of the generals! In
Germany. Ilse Fishbein could be an immediate
means of unlocking a floodgate of unwanted
memories. He held in his hand a spiked club; the
moment would come when he would swing it.
Leifhelm's commanding duties in the field with
the West German NATO divisions lasted seventeen
years, whereupon he was elevated to SHAPE head-
quarters, near Brussels, as military spokesman for
Bonn's interests.
Again his tenure was marked by extreme
anti-Soviet postures, frequently at odds with his own
government's pragmatic approach to coexistence
with the Kremlin, and throughout his final months
at SHAPE he was more often appreciated by the
Anglo-American right-wing factions than by the po-
litical leadership in Bonn.
It was only when the chancellor of the Federal
Republic concluded that American foreign policy in
the early eighties had been taken out of the hands
of professionals and usurped by bellicose ideologues
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 165
that he ordered Leifhelm home and created an
innocuous post for the soldier to keep him at
bay.
Leiftelm, however, had never been a gullible
fool, nor was he one now in his new, improvised
status. He understood why the politicians had
created it it showed recognition of his own
subtle strengths. People everywhere were looking
to the past, to men who spoke clearly, with
candor, and did not obfuscate the problems
facing their countries and the world, especially
the Western world.
So he began to speak. At first to veterans'
groups and splinter organisations where military
pasts and long-established partisan politics
guaranteed him a favorable reception. Spurred by
the enthusiastic responses he evoked, Leifhelm
began to expand, seeking larger audiences, his
positions becoming more strident, his statements
more provocative.
One man listened and was furious. The
chancellor learned that Leifhelm had carried his
quasi-politicking into the Bundestag itself,
implying a constituency far beyond what he really
had, but by the sheer force of his personality
swaying members who should not have been
swayed. Leifhelm's message came back to the
chancellor: an enlarged army in far greater
numbers than the NATO commitments; an
intelligence service patterned after the once
extraordinary Abwohr; a general revamping of
textbooks, deleting injurious and slanderous
materials; rehabilitation camps for political
troublemakers and subversives pretending to be
"liberal thinkers." It was all there.
The chancellor had had enough. He
summoned Leifhelm to his of lice, where he
demanded his resignation in the presence of
three witnesses. Further he ordered Leifhelm to
remove himself from all aspects of German
politics, to accept no further speaking
engagements, and to lend neither his name no
r
his presence to any cause whatsoever. He was to
retire totally from public life. We have reached
one of those witnesses whose name is not
pertinent to this report. The following is his
recollection:
The chancellor was furious. He said to
Leifhekn:
166 ROBERT LUDLUM
'Herr General, you have two choices, and, if
you'll forgive me, a final solution. Number one,
you may do as I say. Or you can be stripped of
your rank and all pensions and financial
accruals afforded therein, as well as the income
from some rather valuable real estate in
Munich, which in the opinion of any enlight-
ened court would be taken from you instantly.
That is your second choice."
I tell you, the field marshal was apoplectic!
He demanded his rights, as he called them, and
the chancellor shouted, "You've had your rights,
and they were wrong! They're skill wrongI"
Then Leifhelm asked what the final solution
was, and I swear to you, as crazy as it sounds,
the chancellor opened a drawer of his desk,
took out a pistol, and aimed it at Leifhelm. "1,
myself, will kill you right now," he said. "You
will not, I repeat, not take us back."
I thought for a moment that the old soldier
was going to rush forward and accept the bullet,
but he didn't. He stood there staring at the
chancellor, such hatred in his eyes, matched by
the statesman's cold appraisal. Then Leifhelm
did a stupid thing. He shot his arm
forward not at the chancellor, but away from
him and cried "Heil Hitler." Then he turned in
military fashion and walked out the door.
We were all silent for a moment or two,
until the chancellor broke the silence. "I should
have killed him," he said. "I may regret it. We
may all regret it."
Five days after this confrontation,
Jacques-Louis Bertholdier made the first of his
two trips to Bonn following his retirement. On
his initial visit he stayed at the Schlosspark
Hotel, and as hotel records are kept for a
period of three years, we were able to obtain
copies of his billing charges. There were numer-
ous calls to various firms doing business with
Juneau et Cie, too numerous to examine
individually, but one number kept being
repeated, the name having no apparent business
connections with Bertholdier or his company. It
was use Fishbein. However, upon checking
Erich Leifhelm's telephone bills for the dates in
question, it was found that he, too, had placed
calls to use Fishbein, identical in number with
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 167
those placed by Rertholdier. Inquiries and brief sur-
veillance further established that Frau Fishbein and
Leifhelm have known each other for a number of
years. The conclusion is apparent: She is the conduit
between Paris and Bonn in Delavane's apparatus.
Converse lit a cigarette. There was the name
again, the temptation again. Ilse Fishbein could be
the shortcut. Threatened with exposure, this
daughter of Hermann Goring could reveal a great
deal. She could confirm that she was not only the
liaison between Leifhelm and Bertholdier but
conceivably much more, for the two ex-generals had
to transmit information to each other. The names of
companies, of buried subsidiaries, and of firms doing
business related to Delavane in Palo Alto might
surface, names he could pursue legally, looking for
the illegalities that had to be there. If there only was
a way to make his presence felt but not seen.
An intermediary. He had used intermediaries in
the past, often enough to know the value of the
procedure. It was relatively simple. He would
approach a third party to make contact with an
adversary carrying information that could be of value
to him insofar as it might be deemed damaging to
his interests, and if the facts presented were strong
enough, an equitable solution was usually
forthcoming. The ethics was questionable, but
contrary to accepted belief, ethics was in three
dimensions, if not four. The end did not justify the
means, but justifiable means that brought about a
fair and necessary conclusion were not to be
dismissed.
And nothing could be fairer or more necessary
than the dismantling of Aquitaine. Old Beale was
right that night on the moonlit beach on Mykonos.
His client was not an unknown man in San Francisco
but instead a large part of this so-called civilised
world. Aquitaine had to be stopped, aborted.
An intermediary? It was another question he
would put off until the morning. He picked up the
dossier, his eyes heavy.
Leifhelm has few intimate friends that appear
to be constant, probably because of his awareness
that he is under watch by the government. He sits
on the boards of several prominent corporations,
168 ROBERT LUDLUM
which have stated frankly that his name justifies his
stipend....
Joel's head fell forward. He snapped it back,
widened his eyes, and scanned the final pages
rapidly, absorbing only the general impressions; his
concentration was waning. There was mention of
several restaurants, the names meaningless; a mar-
riage during the war that ended when Leifhelm s
wife disappeared in November of'43, presumed
killed in a Berlin bombing raid; no subsequent wife
or wives. His private life was extraordinarily private,
if not austere; the exception here was his proclivity
for small dinner parties, the guest lists always
varied, again names, again meaningless. The address
of his residence on the outskirts of Bad
Godesberg.... Suddenly Converse's neck stiffened,
his eyes fully alert.
The house is in the remote countryside, on the
Rhine River and far from any shopping areas or
suburban concentration. The grounds are fenced
and guarded by attack dogs who bark viciously at
all approaching vehicles except Leithelm's
dark-red Mercedes limousine.
A dark-red Mercedes! It was Leifhelm himself
who had been at the airport! Leifhelm who had
driven directly to the embassy! How could it
happens How?
It was too much to absorb, too far beyond his
understanding. The darkness was closing in, Joel's
brain telling him it could no longer accept further
input; it simply could not function. The dossier fell
to his side; he closed his eyes and slept.
He was plunging headlong down through a
cavernous hole in the earth, jagged black rocks on
all sides, infinite darkness below. The walls of
irregular stone kept screaming in frenzy, screeching
at him like descending layers of misshapen gargoyles
with sharp beaks and raised claws lunging
at his
flesh. The hysterical clamor was unbearable. Where
had the silence gone? Why was he falling into black
nothingness?
He flashed his eyes open; his forehead was
drenched with sweat, his breath coming in gasps.
The telephone by his head was ringing, the erratic
bell jarringly dissonant. He tried to shake the sleep
and the fear from his semiconsciousness; he reached
for the blaring instrument, glancing at his watch as
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 169
he did so. It was twelve-fifteen, a quarter past noon,
the sun streaking through the hotel window. Blinding.
"Yes? Hello . . . ?"
"Joe? Joel 2"
'Yes." it's Cal Dowling. Our boy called."
What? Who?"
'This Fowler. Avery Fowler."
"Oh, Jesus!" It was coming back, it was all coming
back. He was seated at a table in the Chat Botte on
the Quai du Mont Blanc, flashes of sunlight bouncing
off the grillwork on the lakeside boulevard. No . . .
he was not in Geneva. He was in a hotel room in
Bonn, and only hours ago he had been plunged into
madness by that name. "Yes," he choked, catching his
breath. 'Did you get a telephone number?"
"He said there wasn't time for games, and
besides, he doesn't have one. You're to meet him at
the east wall of the Alter Zoll as fast as you can get
there. Just walk around; he'll find you."
'That's not good enoughI" cried Converse. "Not
after Paris! Not after the airport last night! I'm not
stupidI"
"I didn't get the impression he thought you were,"
replied the actor. ' He told me to tell you something,
he thought it might convince you."
What is it?"
"I hope I get this right, I don't even like saying it.
. . He said to tell you a judge named Anstett was
killed last nught in New York. He thinks you're being
Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt Page 26
