Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt

by The Aquitaine Progression [lit]

  "But then you had to get to Cologne-Bonn."

  "I was there in forty minutes and called him

  back. No Converse had been admitted, and unless

  you were crossing the border incognito which I

  suspect I know more about than you do you had to

  fly in sooner or later."

  "You're tenacious."

  "I've given you my reasons."

  "What about Dowling and that embassy routine

  at the hotel."

  "Lufthansa had you listed on the passenger

  manifest from Hamburg you'll never know how

  relieved I was. I hung around the counter in case

  there was a delay or anything like that when these

  three embassy guys showed up flashing their ID's,

  the head man speaking rotten German."

  "You could tell?"

  "I speak German and French, Italian, and

  Spanish. I have to deal with different nationalities."

  "I'll let that pass."

  "I suppose that's why I'm a lieutenant

  commander at thirty-four. They move me around a

  lot."

  Pass again. What caught you about the embassy

  peo

  "Your name, naturally. They wanted

  confirmation that you were on flight

  Eight-seventeen. The clerk sort of glanced at me and

  I shook my head; he cooperated without a break in

  his conversation. You see, I'd given him a few

  deutsche marks but that wasn't it. These people

  don't really dig the of ficial U.S. over here."

  '1 heard that last night. From Dowling. How did he

  come

  "Dowling himself, but later. When the plane

  arrived I stood at the rear of the baggage claim; the

  embassy boys were by the entrance to the gates

  about fifty feet away. We all

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 177

  waited until there was only one piece of luggage on

  the conveyor belt. It was yours, but you never

  showed up. Finally a woman came out and the

  embassy contingent surrounded her, everyone

  excited, upset I heard your name mentioned, but

  that's all I heard because by that time I had decided

  to go back and speak to the clerk.

  "To see if l d really been on the plane?' asked

  Converse. "Or whether I turned out to be a no-show.

  "Yes," agreed Fitzpatrick. "He was cute; he made

  me feel like I was suborning a juror. I paid him, and

  he told me this Caleb Dowling whom I think I was

  expected to know had stopped at the desk before

  going out to the platform.'

  "Where he left instructions," said Joel,

  interrupting quietly.

  "How did you know?"

  "I picked up a set at the hotel."

  "That was it, the hotel. Dowling told him he'd

  met this lawyer on the plane, a fellow American

  named Converse who'd sat with him since

  Copenhagen. He was worried that his new friend

  might not have accommodations in Bonn, and if he

  asked Lufthansa for suggestions, the clerk should

  send him to the Konigshof Hotel.'

  "So you totaled up the figures and decided to

  become one of the embassy people who'd lost me,"

  said Converse, smiling. "To confront Dowling. Who

  among us hasn't taken advantage of a hostile

  witness?"

  "Exactly. I showed him my naval ID and told him

  I was an attache. Frankly, he wasn't very

  cooperative."

  "And you weren't very convincing, according to

  his theatrical critique. Neither was I. Strangely

  enough, that's why he got us together." Joel stopped,

  crushed out his cigarette against the wall and threw

  it over the stone. "All right, Commander, you've

  passed muster or roster or whatever the hell you call

  it. Where do we stand? You speak the language and

  you've got government connections I don t have.

  You could help."

  The naval of ficer stood motionless; he looked

  hard at Joel, his eyes blinking in the glare of the

  sunlight, but not from any lack of concentration. "I

  ll do whatever I can," he began slowly, "as long as it

  makes sense to me. But you and I have to un-

  derstand each other, Converse. I'm not backing away

  from the two days. That's all you've got~'ve got if I

  come on board."

  178 ROBERT LUDLUM

  "Who made the deadline?"

  "I did. I do now."

  "It can't work that way."

  "Who says?"

  "I did. I do now." Converse started walking

  along the wall.

  'You're in Bonn," said Fitzpatrick, catching up,

  neither impatience nor supplication in his gait or in

  his voice, only control. "You've been to Paris and

  you came to Bonn. That means you have names,

  areas of evidence, both concrete or hearsay. I want

  it all."

  "You'll have to do better than that, Commander."

  "I made a promise."

  "To whom?"

  "My sister! You think she doesn't know? It was

  tearing Press apart! For a whole goddamned year

  he'd get up in the middle of the night and wander

  around the house, talking to himself but shutting

  her out. He was obsessed and she couldn't crack

  the shell. You'd have to know them to appreciate

  this, but they were good, I mean good together. I

  know it's not very fashionable these days to have

  two people with a passer of kids who really like

  each other, who can't wait to be with each other

  when they're apart, but that's the way they were."

  "Are you married?" asked Joel without breaking

  his stride.

  "No," answered the Navy man, obviously

  confused by the question. "I expect to be. Perhaps.

  I told you, I move around a lot."

  "So did Press . . . Avery."

  "What's your point, counselor?"

  "Respect what he was doing. He knew the

  dangers and he understood what he could lose. His

  life."

  "That's why I want the facts! His body was flown

  back yesterday. The funeral's tomorrow and I'm not

  there because I gave Meagen a promise! I'm

  coming back too, but with everything I need to blow

  this whole tucking thing apartl"

  "You'll only implode it, sending it way down

  deep if you're not stopped before that."

  "That's your judgment."

  "It's all I've got."

  "I don't buy it!"

  "Don't. Go back and talk about rumors, about a

  killing

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 179

  in Geneva that nobody win admit was anything but

  a robbery or a murder in New York that remains

  and probably will remain something it wasn't. If you

  mention a man on Mykonos believe me, he'll

  disappear. Where are you, Commander? Are you

  just a freak, after all, a philosophical blood brother

  of Press Halliday who stormed the Presidio and

  burned his draft card in the good old days of

  muscatel and grass?"

  ' That's a crock of shit!"

  "It's on the record, Commander. By the way, as

  a judge advocate, how many officers did you

  prosecute?"

  "What?"

  "
And as defense counsel, how many cases did you

  lose?"

  "I've had my share of wins and losses, mostly

  wins, frankly.'

  "Mostly? Frankly? You know there are certain

  people who can take fifteen numbers, insert what

  they call variables and make the statistics say

  anything they want them to say."

  "What's that got to do with anything? How is it

  connected to Press's death, his murder?"

  "Oh, you'd be surprised, Commander Fitzpatrick.

  Beneath that brass could be a very successful

  infiltrator, perhaps even an agent provocateur in a

  uniform you shouldn't be

  wearing."

  "What the hell are you talking about? . . . Forget

  it, I don't want to know. I don't have to listen to you,

  but you have to listen to me! You've got two days,

  Converse. Am I on board or not?"

  Joel stopped and studied the intense young face

  beside him young and not so young, there were

  hints of creases around the angry eyes. "You're not

  even in the same fleet," said Converse wearily. "Old

  Beale was right. It's my decision and l choose to tell

  you nothing. I don't want you on board sailor.

  You're a hotheaded piss ant and you bore me."

  oel turned and walked away.

  "All right, curl That's a print! Nice work, Cal, I

  almost believed that drivel." The director, Roger

  Blynn, checked the clipboard thrust in front of him

  by a script girl and issued instructions to the camera

  crew's interpreter before heading over to the

  production table.

  Caleb Cowling remained seated on the large rock

  on the slope of the hill above the Rhine; he patted

  the head of an odoriferous goat, which had just

  defecated on the toe of his

  180 ROBERT LUDLUM

  boot. "I'd like to kick the rest of the shit out of you,

  li'l partner, ' he said quietly, "but it wouldn't fit my

  well-developed image."

  The actor got up and stretched, aware that the

  onlookers beyond the roped-off set were staring at

  him, chattering away like tourists in a zoo. In a few

  minutes he would walk over no, not walk, amble

  over and pull the rope off the carriage of an arc

  light so he could mingle with the fans. He never

  tired of it, probably because it came so late in his

  life and was, after all, symbolic of what he and his

  wife currently could afford. Also every now and

  then there was a bonus: the appearance of one of

  his former students, who usually approached him

  cautiously, obviously wondering if the good-natured

  rapport he had established in the classroom had

  survived the onslaught of national recognition or

  been drowned in the hdal wave of so-called

  stardom. Cal was good at remembering faces, and

  not too bad with at least one of a person's two

  names, so when these occasions arose, he invariably

  would eye his former charge and ask him if he had

  completed yesterday's assignment. Or would walk

  up to him or her and pedagogically inquire

  something like "Of the chronicles Shakespeare drew

  from for his histories, which had the greatest impact

  on his language, Daniel, Holinshed, or Froissart?"

  If the answer came back naming the last, he would

  slap his thigh and exclaim words akin to "Hot damn,

  li'l wrangler, you busted a tough bronc there!"

  Laughter would follow, and frequently drinks and

  reminiscences later.

  It was a good life these days, almost perfect. If

  only some sunlight would reach into the painfully

  dark corners of his wife's mind. If it could, she'd be

  here on a hillside in Bonn chatting in her quietly

  vivacious way with the people beyond the

  rope mostly women, mostly those around her

  age telling them that her husband was really quite

  like their own. He never picked up his socks and

  was a disaster in the kitchen; people liked to hear

  that even if they didn't believe it. But the sunlight

  did not reach those far, dark corners. Instead, his

  Frieda remained in Copenhagen, walking along the

  beaches of Sjaelland Island, having tea in the

  botanical gardens, and waiting for a call from her

  husband saying that he had a few days off and

  would come out of hated Germany. Dowling looked

  around at the efficient, enthusiastic crew and the

  curious spectators; laughter punctuated their

  conversations, a certain respect as well. These were

  not hateful people,

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 181

  ' Cal?" the voice belonged to Blynn, the film's

  director who was walking rapidly across the slope of

  the hill. "There's someone here to see you."

  '`1 hope more than one, Roger. Otherwise the

  men who go under the dubious title of our

  employers are grossly overpaying me."

  'Not for this pile of kitsch." The director's smile

  disappeared, as he approached the actor. Are you

  in any trouble, Cal?

  ~Constantly, but not so it's noticeable."

  T'm serious. There's a man here from the

  German po.lt,ce the Bonn police He says he has to

  talk to yo I i

  What about?" Dowling felt a rush of pain in his

  stomach it was the fear he lived with.

  'He wouldn't tell me. Just that it was an

  emergency and he had to see you alone."

  ~Oh, Chrzst!" whispered the actor. Freddie! .

  . . where is he?"

  `Over in your trailer."

  "In my "

  Rest easy," said Blynn. '`That stunt jock Moose

  Rosenberg's with him. If he moved an ashtray, I

  think that gorilla would throw him through the wall."

  Thanks, Roger."

  `He meant it when he said 'alone'!"

  Dowling did not hear this; he had started running

  across the hill toward the small camper he used for

  brief periods of relaxation. He prayed to no one in

  particular for the best, preparing himself for the

  worst.

  It was neither, simply another complication in an

  enigma. Fneda Dowling was not the subject; instead

  it was Joel Converse, an American attorney-at-law.

  The stunt man climbed out of the trailer, leaving

  Caleb and the police officer alone. The man was in

  civilian clothes, his English fluent, his manner

  vaguely officious yet courteous.

  "I'm sorry to have upset you, Herr Dowling," said

  the German in response to Caleb's initial, intense

  inquiry about his wife. "We know nothing of Frau

  Dowling. Is she ill, perhaps?"

  She's had a few spells lately, that's all. She's in

  Copenhagen."

  182 ROBERT LUDLUM

  "Yes, so we understand. You fly there

  frequently, don't you?"

  'Whenever I can.,'

  She does not care to join you here in Bonn?''

  Tier was Oppenfeld, and the last time she was in

  Germany she wasn't considered much of a human

  being. Her memories are, let's say, memorable in

  the extreme. They come back with a lot of acid."

&nbs
p; `Yes," said the police officer, his eyes as steady

  as Caleb's. "We will live with that for generations."

  "I hope so," said the actor.

  "I wasn't alive, Herr Dowling. I'm very happy

  she survived, I mean that."

  Dowling was not sure why but he lowered his

  voice, the words nearly inaudible, if not involuntary.

  "Germans helped her."

  "I would hope so," said the German quietly. "My

  business, however, concerns a man who sat next to

  you last night on the planes from Copenhagen to

  Hamburg and from Hamburg to Bonn. His name is

  Joel Converse, an American attorney."

  "What about him? By the way, may I see your

  identification?"

  "Certainly." The police officer reached into his

  pocket removed his plastic ID case, and handed it

  to the actor, who had his glasses firmly in place. "I

  trust everything is in order," added the man.

  "What's this Sonder Dezernat?" asked Dowling,

  squinting at the small print on the card.

  "It is best translated as 'special' 'branch' or

  department.' We are a unit of the Bundespolizei,

  the federal police. It is our job to look into matters

  the government feels are more sensitive than the

  normal jurisdictional complaints."

  What doesn't say a damn thing, and you know