Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt

by The Aquitaine Progression [lit]

  burst that cut that kid's face apart. When I reached

  him, half of that face in my hands, I heard the

  cackle, the obscene laughter of an obscene man who

  personified for me everything I found de-

  spicable whether North Vietnamese or American.

  If you want to know the truth, whatever I did I did

  against both because both were guilty, all of us

  turned into animals, myself included. Those other

  three men, those enemies, those uniformed robots,

  probably with wives and children back in villages

  somewhere up north, had no idea I got behind them.

  I shot them in the back, counselor. What would

  Johnny Ringo say about that? Or John Wayne?"

  Connal was silent as Joel walked over to the hunt

  table to pour himself a whisky. The Navy lawyer

  drank, then spoke. "A few hours ago you said you

  knew where I was coming from because you'd been

  there. Well, I haven't been where you were, but I'm

  beginning to see where you're coming from. You

  really hate everything that Aquitaine stands for, don't

  you? Especially those running it."

  Converse turned. "With everything that's in me,"

  he said. "That's why we've got to talk about tonight."

  "I told you, I had no choice. You said the

  embassy people I saw at the airport were with

  Delavane. I couldn't take the chance."

  "I know. Now we're both running, hunted by our

  own people and protected by the men we want to

  trap. We've got to think, Commander."

  The telephone rang twice abrasively. Fitzpatrick

  leaped from the chair, his initial reaction one of

  shock. Joel watched him, calming him with his look.

  "Sorry," said Connal. "I'm still edgy. I'll get it; I'll be

  all right." The Navy lawyer crossed to the phone and

  picked it up. ':7a?" He listened for several seconds,

  covered the mouthpiece and looked at Converse. "It's

  the overseas operator. San Francisco. It's Meagen."

  "Which means Remington," saidJoel, his throat

  suddenly dry, his pulse accelerating.

  "Meagen? Yes, I'm here. What is it?" Fitzpatrick

  stared

  250 ROBERT LUDLUM

  straight ahead as his sister talked; he nodded

  frequently, the muscles of his jaw working as he

  concentrated. "Oh, Chr~st! . . . No, it's all right. I

  mean it, everything s okay. Do you have the

  number?" Connal looked down at the small

  telephone table; there was a message pad but no

  pencil. He glanced over at Joel, who had already

  started for the desk and a hotel pen. Fitzpatrick

  held out his hand, took the pen and wrote out a

  series of numbers. Converse stood aside, conscious

  that he was barely breathing, his fingers gripping the

  glass. "Thanks, Meagen. I know it's a hell of a time

  for you; you don't need this but if you have to call

  again, make it station-to-station, okay? . . . I will,

  Meg, I give you my word. Good-bye." The Navy

  lawyer hung up, his hand for a moment remaining

  on the telephone.

  "Remington called, didn't he?" said Joel.

  "Yes."

  'What happened ?"

  "Someone tried to get the flag on your service

  record released," said Fitzpatrick, turning, looking at

  Converse. "It's okay. Remington stopped it."

  "Who was it?"

  "I don't know, I'll have to reach David. Meagen

  doesn't have any idea what a flag is, much less who

  you are. The message was only that 'a release was

  sought for the flag,' but he stopped it."

  "Then everything's all right."

  "That's what I said, but it's not."

  "Clarification, goddamn it!"

  "There's a time limit on how long my order

  stands. It's only a day or two after the vetting

  process "

  "Which is forty-eight hours," interrupted Joel.

  "Yes, I'm sure of that; it's after that. You see,

  you thought this would happen, but frankly I didn't.

  Whoever's asking for that flag isn't small potatoes.

  You could walk out of that meeting and a few hours

  later your new associates could have that stuff in

  their hands. Converse the Delavane-hater. Is he now

  the Delavane-hunter?"

  "Call Remington."Joel went to the French doors,

  opened them, and walked out on the small balcony.

  Drifting wisps of clouds filtered the moonlight, and

  far to the east there were Hashes of heat lightning

  reminding Converse of the silent artillery fire he and

  the other escaping prisoners would see in the hills,

  knowing it was sanctuary but unreachable. He could

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 251

  hear Fitzpatrick inside; from the sound of his voice

  he was getting a line through to San Diego. Joel

  reached into a pocket for his cigarettes; he lighted

  one. Whether it was the bright glow of the flame

  that illuminated the movement he did not know, but

  he looked in the direction of that movement. Two

  balconies away, about thirty feet to his right, a man

  stood watching him. The figure was a silhouette in

  the dim light; he nodded and went back inside. Was

  the man simply another guest who had coincidentally

  gone outside for a breath of air? Or had Aquitaine

  posted a guard? Converse could hear the Navy

  lawyer talking conversationally; he turned and

  walked back into the room.

  Connal was seated in the chair on the other side

  of the table. He held the phone to his ear with his

  left hand; his right held the pen above the message

  pad. He made a note, then said quickly, "Wait a

  minute. You say Hickman told you to let it ride but

  he wouldn't tell you who specifically made the re-

  quest? . . . I see. All right, David, thanks very much.

  Are you going out tonight? . . . So if I need you I

  can reach you at this number.... Yes, I know, it's

  these damn phones up in Sonoma. One heavy rain in

  the hills and you're lucky to get a line, forget a clear

  one. Thanks again, David. Good-bye." Fitzpatrick

  hung up the phone and looked strangely, almost

  guiltily, at Joel. Instead of speaking, he shook his

  head, breathing out and frowning.

  'What is it? What's the matter?"

  "You'd better get everything you can at that

  meeting tomorrow. Or is it today?"

  "It's past midnight. It's today. Why?"

  "Because twenty-four hours later that flag will be

  released to a section in the Fifth Naval

  District that's Norfolk, and it's powerful. They'll

  know everything you don't want them to know about

  you. The time limit is seventy-two hours."

  "Get an extension!"

  Connal stood up, helplessness in his expression.

  "On what basis?"

  "What else? National security."

  "I'd have to spell out the reasons, you know that."

  "I don't know that. Extensions are granted for all

  sorts of contingencies. You need more time to

  prepare. A source or a witness has been

  postponed illness or an injury. Or per

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ROBERT LUDLUM

  sonal matters goddamn it, your brother-in-law's

  funeral, your sister's grief--they've delayed your

  progress!"

  "Forget it, Joel. If I tried that, they'd tie you in

  with Press and good-bye Charlie. They killed him,

  remember?"

  "No," said Converse firmly. "It's the other way

  around. It separates us further."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I've thought about this, tried to put myself in

  Avery's shoes. He knew his every move was being

  watched, his telephone probably tapped. He said the

  geography, the Comm Tech-Bern merger, the

  breakfast, Geneva itself, everything had to be

  logical; it couldn't be any other way. At the end of

  that breakfast he said if I agreed we'd talk later."

  "So?"

  "He knew we'd be seen together it was

  unavoidable and I think he was going to give me

  the words to say if someone in Aquitaine asked me

  about him. He was going to turn everything around

  and give me the push I needed to reach these men."

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "Avery was going to stamp me with the label I

  had to wear to get inside Delavane's network. We'll

  never know, but I have an idea he was going to tell

  me to say that he, A. Preston Halliday, suspected

  me of being one of them, that he had inserted

  himself in the Comm Tech-Bern merger to threaten

  me with exposure, to stop me."

  "Wait a minute." Connal shook his head. "Press

  didn't know what you were going to do or how you

  were going to do it."

  "There was only one way to do it, he knew that!

  He also knew I'd reach the same conclusion once I

  understood the particulars. The only way to stop

  Delavane and his field marshals is to infiltrate

  Aquitaine. Why do you think all that money was put

  up front? I don't need it and he knew he couldn't

  buy me. But he knew it could be used would have

  to be used to get inside and start talking, start

  gathering evidence.... Call Remington again. Tell

  him to prepare an extension."

  "It's not Remington, it's the commander of

  SAND PAC an admiral named Hickman. David said

  I could expect a call from him tomorrow. I'll have

  to figure that one out and phone Meagen back.

  Hickman's uptight; he wants to know who you are

  and why all the interest."

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 253

  'How well do you know this Hickman?"

  ' Fairly well. I was with him in New London and

  Galveston. He requested me as his CLO in San

  Diego; that's what gave me the stripe."

  Converse studied Fitzpatrick's face, then without

  saying anything he turned and walked to the open

  balcony doors. Connal did not interrupt; he

  understood. He had seen too many attorneys, himself

  included, struck by a thought they had to define for

  themselves, an idea upon which a case might hinge.

  Joel turned around slowly, haltingly, the dim,

  abstract shadows of a possibility coming into focus.

  "Do it," he began. "Do what I think your

  brother-in-law might have done. Finish what he

  might have said but never got a chance to say it.

  Assume he and I had that meeting after the merger

  conference. Give me the springboard I need."

  "As you would say, clarification, please, counselor."

  "Present Hickman with a scenario as it might

  have been written by A. Preston Halliday. Tell him

  that flag's got to remain in place because you have

  reason to believe I was connected with your

  brother-in-law's murder. Explain that before Halliday

  flew to Geneva he came to see you as he did and

  told you he was meeting me, an opposing attorney he

  suspected of being involved with corrupt export

  licensing, a legal front for some boardroom

  profiteers. Say he said he was going to confront me.

  Preston Halliday had a history of causes."

  "Not for the past ten or twelve years, he didn't,"

  corrected Fitzpatrick. "He joined the establishment

  with a vengeance and with a healthy respect for the

  dollar."

  "It's the history that counts. He knew that; it was

  one of the reasons he came to me. Say you're

  convinced he did confront me, and since millions are

  made out of that business you think I methodically

  had him removed, covering myself by being there

  when he died. I have a certain reputation for being

  methodical."

  Connal lowered his head and ran his hand

  through his hair, then walked in thought toward the

  hunt table. He stopped, raised his gaze to one of the

  racehorse prints and turned back to Converse. "Do

  you know what you're asking me to do?"

  "Yes. Give me the springboard that'll catapult me

  right in the middle of those would-be Genghis

  Khans. To do it you'll have to go further with

  Hickman. Because you're so person

  254 ROBERT LUDLUM

  ally involved and so goddamned angry which again

  is the truth tell him to explain your position to

  whoever wants the flag released. It's a nonmilitary

  matter, so you're taking what you know to the

  civilian authorities."

  "I understand all that," said Fitzpatrick.

  "Everything I say is the truth, as I saw it when I flew

  over here to find you. Except that I reverse the

  targets. Instead of being the one who can help me,

  you're now the one I want nailed."

  "Right on, counselor. And I'm met by a

  welcoming committee at Leifhelm's estate."

  "Then I guess you don't see."

  "What?"

  "You're asking me to go on record implicating

  you in first-degree murder. I'll be branding you as

  a killer. Once I say it, I can't take the words back."

  "I know that. Do it."

  George Marcus Delavane twisted his torso in his

  chair behind the desk in front of the strangely

  colored fragmented map on the wall. It was not a

  controlled movement; it was an action in search of

  control. Delavane did not care for obstrucbons and

  one was being explained to him now by an admiral

  in the Fifth Naval District.

  "The status of the Hag is Four Zero," said

  Scanlon. "To get it released we'd have to go through

  Pentagon procedures, and I don't have to tell you

  what that means. Two senior officers, one from

  naval intelligence, plus a supporting signature from

  the National Security Agency; all would have to

  appear on the request sheet, the level of the inquiry

  stated, thus escalating the request to a sector

  demand. Now, General, we can do all this, but we

  run the risk "

  "I know the risk," interrupted Delavane. "The

  signatures are the risk, the identities a risk. Why the

  Four Zero? Who placed it and why?"

  "The chief legal officer of SAND PAC. I

  checked him out. He's a lieutenant commander

  named Fitzpatrick, and there's nothing in his record

  to give
us any indication as to why he did it."

  "I'll tell you why," said the warlord of Saigon.

  "He's hiding something. He's protecting this

  Converse."

  "Why would a chief legal officer in the Navy

  protect a civilian under these circumstances?

  There's no connection.

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 255

  Furthermore, why would he exercise a Four Zero

  condition? It only calls attention to his action."

  "It also clamps a lid down on that flag." Delavane

  paused, then continued before the admiral could

  interrupt. "This Fitzpatrick," he said. "You've checked

  the master list?"

  "He's not one of us."

  "Has he ever been considered? Or approached?"

  ' I haven't had time to find out." There was the

  sound of a buzzer, not part of the line over which

  the two men spoke. Scanlon could be heard punching

  a button, his voice clear, officious. "Yes?" Silence

  followed, and seconds later the admiral returned to

  Palo Alto. "It's Hickman again."

  "Maybe he has something for us. Call me back."

  "Hickman wouldn't give us anything if he had the

  slightest idea we existed," said Scanlon. In a few

  weeks, he'll be one of the first to go. If it were up to

  me he'd be shot."

  '~Call me back," said George Marcus Delavane,

  looking at the map of the new Aquitaine on the wall.

  Chaim Abrahms sat at the kitchen table in his

  small stone Mediterranean villa in Tzahala, a suburb

  of Tel Aviv favored by the retired military and those