it," said the actor. We can use lines like that in
movies and get away with it because we write in all
those reactions, but you're not Helmut Dantine or
Martin Kosleck and I'm not Elissa Landi. Spell it
out."
every well, I shall spell it out. Interpol. A man
died in a Paris hospital as a result of head injuries
inflicted by the American, Joel Converse. His
condition was diagnosed as improving, but
unfortunately it was only temporary; he was found
dead this morning. The death is attributed to an
unpro
THE PROGRESSION 183
yoked attack by Herr Converse. We know he flew
into Koln-Bonn, and according to the airline
stewardesses, you sat with him for three and a half
hours. We want to know where he is. Perhaps you
can help us."
Dowling removed his glasses, lowering his chin
and swallowing as he did so. And you think I know?"
We have no idea, but you talked with him. And
we hope you do know that there are severe penalties
for withholding information about a fugitive,
especially one sought for a killing."
The actor fingered the stems of his glasses, his
instincts in conflict, erupting. He walked over to the
cot against the wall and sat down, looking up at the
police officer.. "Why don't I trust you?" he asked.
`Because you think of your wife and will trust no
German," replied the German. 1 am a man of law
and peace Herr Dowling. Order is something the
people decide for themselves, myself among them.
The report we have received states clearly that this
Converse may be a very disturbed man."
"He didn't sound disturbed to me. In fact, I
thought he had a damned good head on his
shoulders. He said a lot of very perceptive things."
"That you wanted to hear?"
"Not all of them."
"But a good percentage, leading up to all of them."
"What does that mean?"
"A madman is convincing; he plays on all sides,
eventually weighing everything in his favor. It's the
essence of his madness, his psychosis, his own
convictions."
Dowling dropped the glasses on the cot, exhaling
audibly feeling the pain of fear again in his stomach.
PA madman?" he said without conviction. "I don't
believe that."
"Then let us have a chance to disprove it. Do you
know where he is?"
The actor squinted at the German. "Give me a
card or a number where I can reach you. He may get
in touch with me."
"Who was responsible?" The man in the red silk
robe behind the large desk sat in semidarkness, a
brass lamp serving to throw a harsh circle of light on
the surface in front of him. The glow was sufficient
to reveal the outlines of a huge map
184 ROBERT LUDLUM
cantered on the wall behind the man and the desk.
It was a strange map, not of the global world but of
fragments of the world. The shapes of nations were
clearly defined yet oddly shadowed, eerily colored,
as if an attempt had been made to create a single
landmass out of disparate geographical areas. They
included all of Europe, most of the Mediterranean
and selected portions of Africa. And as if the wide
expanse of the Atlantic Ocean were merely a pale
blue connector, Canada and the United States of
America were part of this arcane entity.
The man stared straight ahead. His lined,
squarejawed face, with its aquiline nose and thin,
stretched lips, seemed molded from parchment; his
close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair was singularly
appropriate for a man with such a rigidly framed
torso. He spoke again; his voice was rather high,
with no resonance but with a secure sense of
command. One could easily imagine this voice
raised in volume even to fever pitch like a
tomcat screeching across a frozen lake. It was not
raised now, however; it was the essence of quiet
urgency. ' Who was responsible?" he repeated. "Are
you still on the line, London?"
"Yes," replied the caller from Great Britain.
"Yes, of course. I'm trying to think, trying to be
fair."
"I admire that, but decisions have to be made. In
all likelihood the responsibility will be shared, we
simply have to know the sequence." The man
paused; when he continued, his voice suddenly took
on an intensity that was a complete departure from
his previous tone. It was the shrill call of the cat
across the ice-bound lake. "How was Interpol
involved?"
Startled, the Englishman answered quickly, his
phrases clipped, the words rushing headlong over
one another. "Bertholdier's aide was found dead at
four in the morning Paris fame. Apparently he was
to receive hospital medication at that hour. The
nurse called the Surete "
"The Surete?" shouted the man behind the desk
in front of the fragmented map. "Why the Surete'?
Why not Bertholdier? It was his employee, not the
Surete's!"
"That was the lapse," said the Britisher. "No one
realised instructions to that effect had been left at
the hospital desk apparently by an inspector
named Prudhomme, who was awakened and told of
the man's death."
"And he was the one who called in Interpol?"
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 185
'~Yes, but too late to intercept Converse at
German immigration. "
' For which we can be profoundly grateful," said
the man, lowering his voice.
'Normally, of course, the hospital would have
waited and reached Bertholdier in the morning,
telling him what happened. As you say, the patient
was an employee, not a member of the family. After
that, undoubtedly the arrondissement police would
have been informed and finally the Surete. By then
our people would have been in place and fully
capable of preventing Interpol's involvement. We can
still stop them but it will take several days. Personnel
transfers, new evidence, amendments to the case file;
we need time."
Then don't waste any."
' It was those damned instructions."
"Which no one had the brains to look for," said
the man in front of the shadowed map. "This
Prudhomme's instincts were aroused. Too many rich
people, too much influence, the circumstances too
bizarre. He smells something."
"We'll get him off the case, just a few days," said
the Englishman. "Converse is in Bonn, we know that.
We're closing in 't
"So possibly are Interpol and the German police.
I don't have to tell you how tragic that would be."
"We have certain controls through the American
embalm sy. The fugitive is American."
"Thefugitive has information!" insisted the man
behind the desk, his fist clenched in the circle of
light. "How much and supplie
d by whom we don't
know and we must know."
"Nothing was learned in New York? The judge?"
"Only what Bertholdier suspected and what I
knew the moment I heard his name. After forty years
Anstett came back, still hounding me, still wanting
my neck. The man was a bull, but only a go-between;
he hated me as much as I hated him, and up to the
end he shielded those behind him. Well he's gone
and his holy righteousness with him. The point is
Converse is not what he pretends to be. Now, f nd
him!"
"As I say, we're closing in. We have more
sources, more informers than Interpol. He s an
American fugitive in Bonn who, we understand,
doesn't speak the language. There are only so many
places he can hide. We'll find him; we ll break him
and learn where he comes from. After which, we'll
terminate immediately, of course."
186 ROBERT IUDLUM
"No!" The sleek male cat again shrieked across
the frozen lake. "We play his game! We welcome
him, embrace him. In Paris he talked about Bonn,
Tel Aviv, Johannesburg; therefore you'll
accommodate him. Bring him to LeifLelm even
better, have Leifhelm go to him. Fly in Abrahms
from Israel, Van Headmer from Africa, and, yes,
Bertholdier from Paris. He obviously knows who
they are anyway. He claims ultimately to want a
council meeting, to be a part of us. So we'll hold a
conference and listen to his lies. He'll tell us more
with his lies than he can with the truth."
'I really don't understand."
"Converse is a point, but only a point. He's
exploring, studying the forward terrain, trying to
understand the tactical forces ahead of him. If he
were anything else, he'd deal directly through
legitimate authorities and legitimate methods.
There'd be no reason for him to use a false name or
give false information or to run away, forcibly
overcoming a man he thinks is trying to stop him.
He's an infantry point who has certain information
but doesn't know where he's going. Well, a point
can be sucked into a trap, the advancing company
ambushed. Oh, yes, we must give him his
conference!"
"I submit that's extraordinarily dangerous. He
has to know who recruited him, who gave him the
names, his sources. We can break him physically or
chemically and get that information."
"He probably doesn't have it," explained the man
patiently. "Infantry points are not privileged to know
command decisions; frankly, if they were, they might
turn back. We have to know more about this
Converse, and by six o'clock tonight I'll have every
report, every resume, every word ever written about
him. There's something here we can't see."
"We already know he's resourceful," said the
Britisher. "From what we can piece together in
Paris, he's considered an outstanding attorney. If he
sees through us or gets away from us, it could be
catastrophic. He will have met with our people,
spoken with them."
"Then once you find him don't let him out of
your sight. By tomorrow I'll have other
instruetions~r you."
"Oh?"
"Those records that are being gathered from all
over the country. For a man to do what Converse is
doing, he had to be manipulated very carefully, very
thoroughly, a driving intensity instilled in him. It's
the manipulators we have to find.
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 187
They're not even who we think they are. I'll be in
touch tomorrow."
George Marcus Delavane replaced the telephone
in its cradle and slowly, awkwardly twisted his upper
body around in the chair. He gazed at the strange,
fragmented map as the first light of dawn fired the
eastern sky, its orange glow filling the windows.
Then, with effort, his hands gripping the arms of the
steel chair, he pivoted himself around again, his eyes
on the stark pool of light on the desk. He moved his
hands to his waist and carefully, trembling,
unbuttoned his dark-red velvet jacket, forcing his
gaze downward, ordering himself to observe the
terrible truth once more. He stared past the
five-inch-wide leather strap that diagonally held him
in place, now commanding his eyes to focus, to
accept with loathing what had been done to him.
There was nothing to see but the edge of the
thick steel seat and, below it, the polished wood of
the floor. The long, sturdy legs that had carried his
trained, muscular body through battles in the snow
and the mud, through triumphant parades in the
sunlight, through ceremonies of honor and defiance,
had been stolen from him. The doctors had told him
that his diseased legs were instruments of death that
would kill the rest of him. He clenched his fists and
pressed them slowly down on the desk, his throat
filled with a silent scream.
9
"Goddamn you, Converse, who do you think you
areP" cried Connal Fitzpatrick, his voice low, furious,
as he caught up with Joel, who was walking rapidly
between the tall trees near the Alter Zoll.
"Someone who knew Avery Fowler as a boy and
watched a man named Press Halliday die a couple of
hundred years later in Geneva,' replied Converse,
quickening his pace heading toward the gates of the
national landmark where there were taxis.
"Don't puff that crap on mel I knew Press far better
and
188 ROBERT LUDIUM
far longer than you ever did. For Christ's sake, he
was married to my sister! We were close friends for
fifteen years!"
"You sound like a kid playing one-upmanship. Get
lost."
Fitzpatrick rushed forward, pivoting in front of
Joel blocking him. "It's true! Please, I can help, I
want to help! I know the language: you don't! I have
connections here; you don't."
"You also have your own idea about a deadline,
which I don't. Get out of my way, sailor. '
"Come on," pleaded the naval officer. I didn't get
everything I wanted. Don't crowd me out."
"I beg your pardon?"
Fitzpatrick shifted his weight awkwardly. "You've
come on strong before yourself, haven't you,
counselor?"
"Not if I didn't know the circumstances."
"Sometimes it's a way of finding them out."
"Not with me, it isn't."
"Then my error was in not knowing you; the
circumstances were beyond that scope. With
someone else it might have worked."
"Now you're talking tactics, but you meant it when you
said 'two days.'"
"You're damned right I did," agreed Connal,
nodding. "Because I want whatever it is exposed, I
want whoever it is to pay! I'm mad, Converse, I'm
mad as hell. I don't want this thing to linger and die
away. The longer nothing is d
one the less people
care; you know that as well as I do and probably
better. Have you ever tried to reopen an old case? I
have with a few courts-martial where I thought things
had been screwed up. Well, I learned something: the
system doesn't like it! You know why?"
"Yes I do," said Joel. "There are too many new
cases in the dockets, too many rewards in going after
the current ones."
"Bingo, counselor. Press deserves better than that.
Meagen deserves better."
"Yes, he does they do. But there's a
complication that Press Halliday understood better
than either of us. Put simply and cruelly his life
wasn't terribly important compared with what he was
going after."
"That's pretty damned cruel," said the officer..
"It's very damned accurate," said Converse. "Your
brother-in-law would have wrestled you to the mat,
burns and all,
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 189
for walking into this and trying to call the shots.
Back off Commander. Go back to the funeral."
"No. I want to come on board. I withdraw the
deadline."
'4How considerate of you."
"You call the shots," said Fitzpatrick, nodding
again, exhaling in defeat. "I'll do what you tell me to
do."
"Why?" asked Joel, their eyes locked.
The Navy lawyer did not flinch; he spoke simply.
"Because Press trusted you. He said you were the
best."
Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt Page 29
