named Joel Converse. Who is he, Harry?"
"For Christ's sake, I never heard of him. What's
the naval angle?"
"Someone who claims to be the chief legal
officer of a major Navy base with the rank of
lieutenant commander."
"Claims to be?"
"Well, before that he passed himself off as a
military attache working at the embassy."
"Somewhere the inmates broke out of a home."
"This isn't funny, Harry. Peregrine s no fool. He
may be a vanity appointment, but he's damned good
and he's damned smart. He says these people aren't
only real but may know something he doesn't."
"What does he base that on?"
"First, the opinion of a man who's met this
Converse "
"Who?" interrupted Harry of Station Eight
"He won't say, just that he trusts him, trusts his
judgment. This person with no name says Converse
is a highly qualified, very troubled man, not a black
hat."
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 275
"A what?"
"That was the term Peregrine used. Obviously
someone who's okay. '
"What else?"
"What Peregrine calls isolated odd behavior in
his personnel ranks. He wouldn't elaborate; he says
he'll discuss it with the Secretary or Sixteen Hundred
if I can't satisfy him. He wants answers fast, and we
don't want to rock the boat over there."
"I'll try to help," said Harry. "Maybe it's
something from Langley or Arlington the bastards!
I can run a check on the Navy's chief legals in an
hour, and I'm sure the ABA can tell us who
Converse is if he is. At least narrow him down if
there's more than one."
"Get back to me. I haven't got much time and we
don't want the White House raising its voice."
"The last thing ever," agreed the director of
Consular Operations, the State Department's branch
of foreign clandestine activities.
'Try that on for legal size!" shouted Rear
Admiral Hickman, standing by the window, angrily
addressing a rigid pale-faced David Remington. 'And
tell me with as few goddamned details as possible
how it fits!"
"I find it impossible to believe, sir. I spoke with
him yesterday at noon and then again last
evening. He was in Sonoma!"
"So did 1, Lieutenant. And whenever there was
a scratching or an echo, what were the words? All
that rain in the hills screwed up the telephone lines!"
"Those were the words, sir."
"He passed through Dusseldorf immigration two
days ago! He's now in Bonn, Germany, with a man
he swore to me had something to do with his
brother-in-law's death. The same man he's protecting
by putting a clamp on that flag. This Converse!"
"I don't know what to say, sir."
"Well, the State Department does and so do 1.
They're pushing through that vet-delay or whatever
the hell you called it in your legalese."
"It's vetted material, sir. It simply means "
"I don't want to hear, Lieutenant," said Hickman,
head
276 ROBERT LUDLUM
ingback to his desk, adding under his breath. "Do
you know how much you bastards cost me for the
two divorces?"
"I beg your pardon, sir?"
"Never mind. I want that flag released. I brought
Fitz on board here. I gave him his striper and the
son of a bitch lied to me. He not only lied, he did it
ten thousand miles away lying about where he was
when he knew he shouldn't be there without my
authorizationt He knew itl . . . Do you have any
objections, Lieutenant? Something you can put into
a sentence or two that won't require my bringing in
three other legals to translate?"
Lieutenant Remington, one of the finest lawyers
in the United States Navy, knew when to put the
engines in reverse. Legal ethics had been violated
by misinformation, the course was clear. Aggressive
retreat with full boilers or nuclear power, he
supposed, although he did not really know. "I'll
personally accelerate the vet-delay, Admiral. As the
officer responsible for the secondary CLO statute,
I'll make it clear that the direct order is now subject
to immediate cancellation. No such order can or
should originate under questionable circumstances.
Legally "
"That will be all, Lieutenant," said the Admiral,
cutting off his subordinate and sitting down.
"Yes, sir."
"No, that isn't allI" continued Hickman, abruptly
leaning forward. "How's that transcript released,
and how soon can you expect it?"
"With State's input it'll only be a matter of
hours, sir, noon or shortly afterwards, I'd guess. A
classified teletype will be sent to those requesting
the Hag. However, since SAND PAC has only
placed a restriction and not a request "
"Request it, Lieutenant. Bring it up to me the
minute it gets here and don't leave the base until it
does."
"Aye, aye, sirI"
The deep-red Mercedes limousine weaved down
the curving road inside the massive gates of Erich
Leifhelm's estate. The late-afternoon orange sun
filtered diagonally through the tall trees, which not
only bordered the road but were everywhere beyond
on both sides. The drive might have been restful
had it not been for a sight that made the whole
scene grotesque: racing alongside the car were at
least a half-dozen giant Dobermans, not one of
them making a
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 277
sound. There was something unearthly about their
running furiously in silence, black eyes flashing up at
the windows, their jaws wide with rapid, erratic teeth
bared, but no sound emerging from their throats.
Somehow Converse knew that if he stepped out of
the car without the proper commands being issued,
the powerful dogs would tear him to pieces.
The limousine pulled into a long circular drive
that fronted wide brown marble steps leading to an
arched doorway, the heavy panels covered with dark
bas-relief a remnant of some ancient pillaged
cathedral. Standing on the lower step was a man with
a silver whistle raised to his lips. Again there was no
sound a human could hear, but suddenly the animals
abandoned the car and ran to him, flanking him,
facing forward on their haunches, jaws slack, bodies
pulsating.
"Please wait, sir," said the chauffeur as he
climbed out and ran around to Joel's door. "If you
will step out, please, and take two paces away from
the car. Only two paces, sir." The chauffeur now held
in his hand a black object with a rounded metal tube
extending from the front of the instrument, not
unlike a miniaturised electric charcoal starter.
"What's that?" asked Converse.
"Protection, sir. For you, sir. The dogs, sir. They
&n
bsp; are trained to sense heavy metal."
Joel stood there as the German moved the
electronic detector over his clothes, including his
shoes, his inner thighs and the back of his waist. "Do
you people really think I'd come out here with a
gun?"
"I do not think, sir. I do as I am told."
'How original," mumbled Converse as he
watched the man on the marble step raise the silver
whistle again to his lips. As one, the phalanx of
Dobermans suddenly leaped forward. In panic, Joel
grabbed the chauffeur, spinning the German in front
of him. There was no resistance; the man simply
turned his head and grinned as the dogs veered to
the right and raced around the circular drive into the
approach road cut out of the forest.
"Don't apologize, mein Herr, " said the chauffeur.
"It happens often."
"I wasn't going to apologise," said Converse flatly
as he released the man. "I was going to break your
neck." The German moved away, and Joel remained
motionless, stunned by
278 ROBERT LUDLUM
his own words. He had not spoken words like that
in over eighteen years.
"This way, sir." said the man on the steps, his
accent oddly yet distinctly British.
Inside, the great hall was lined with medieval
banners hanging down from an interior balcony.
The hal] led into an immense sitting room, the
motif again medieval, made comfortable by soft
leather chairs and couches, gaily fringed lamps and
silver services everywhere on thin polished tables.
The room was also made ugly by the profusion of
protruding animals'heads on the upper walls; large
cats, elephants and boar looked down in defiant
anger. It was a field marshal's lair.
It was not, however, the furnishings that
absorbed Converse's attention but the sight of the
four men who stood beside four separate chairs
facing him.
He knew Bertholdier and LeifLelm; they stood
beside each other on the right. It was the two on
the left he stared at. The medium-sized, stocky man
with the fringe of close-cropped hair on a balding
head and wearing a rumpled safari jacket, the
ever-present boots below his khaki trousers, could
be no one but Chaim Abrahms. His pouched, angry
face with its slits of glaring eyes was the face of an
avenger. The very tall man with the gaunt, aquiline
features and the straight grey hair was General Jan
van Headmer, the Slayer of Soweto. Joel had read
the Van Headmer dossier quickly; fortunately it was
the briefest, the final summary saying it all.
In essence, Van Headmer is a Cape Town
aristocrat, an Afrikaner who has never really
accepted the British, to say nothing of the tribal
blacks. His convictions are rooted in a reality that
for him is unshakable. His forebears carved out a
savage land under savage conditions and at a great
loss of life brutally taken by savages. His thinking is
unalterably that of the late-nineteenth and
early-twentieth centuries. He will not accept the
sociological and political in
~roads made by the more educated Bantus because
he will never consider them anything more than
bush primitives. When he orders austere
deprivations and mass executions, he thinks he is
dealing only with subhuman animals. It is this
thinking that led him to be jailed along with Prime
Minister Verwoerd and the racist Vorster during
World War II. He con
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 279
curred wholeheartedly with the Nazi concept of su
perior races. His close association with Chaim
Abrahms is the single difference between him and
the Nazis, and not a contradiction for him. The
sabres carved a land out of a primitive Palestine;
their history parallels his country's, and both men
take pride in their strength and respective
accomplishments. Van Headmer, incidentally, is one
of the most charming men one could meet. On the
surface he is cultured, extremely courteous and
always willing to listen. Underneath, he is an
unfeeling killer, and he is Delavane's key figure in
South Africa with its vast resources.
"Mein Haus ist dein Haus," said LeifLelm, walking
toward Joel, his hand outstretched.
Converse stepped forward to accept the
German's hand. Their hands clasped. "That was an
odd greeting outside for such a warm sentiment,"
said Joel, abruptly releasing Leifhelm's hand and
turning to Bertholdier. "Good to see you again,
General. My apologies for the unfortunate incident
in Paris the other night. I don't mean to speak lightly
of a man's life, but in those few split seconds I didn't
think he had much regard for mine."
Joel's boldness had the desired effect.
Bertholdier stared at him, momentarily unsure of
what to say. And Converse was aware that the other
three men were watching him intently without
question struck by his audacity, in both manners and
words.
"To be sure, monsieur," said the Frenchman,
pointlessly but with composure. 'As you know, the
man disregarded his orders."
"Really? I was told he misunderstood them."
"It is the samel" The sharp, heavily accented
voice came from behind.
Joel turned around. 'Is it?" he asked coldly.
"In the field, yes," said Chaim Abrahms. "Either
one is an error, and errors are paid for with lives.
The man paid with his."
"May I introduce Ceneral Abrahms?" Leifhelm
broke in touching Converse's elbow and leading him
to the Israeli.
"General Abrahms, it's a privilege," said Joel with
convincing sincerity as they shook hands. "Like
everyone here,
280 ROBERT LUDLUM
I've admired you tremendously, although perhaps
your rhetoric has been excessive at times."
The Israeli's face reddened as soft laughter filled
the large room. Suddenly Van Headmer stepped
forward, and Converse's eyes were drawn to the
strong face, the brows frowning, muscles taut.
"You are addressing one of my closest
associates, sir," he said; the rebuke was
unmistakable. Then a thin smile creased his gaunt,
chiseled face. "And I could not have said it better
myself. A pleasure to know you, young man." The
Afrikaner's hand was stretched toward Joel, who
accepted it amid the subdued laughter.
"I am insulted!" cried Abrahms, his thick
eyebrows raised, his head bobbing in mock despair.
"By talkers I'm insulted! Frankly, Mr. Converse, they
agree with you because none of them has had a
woman in a quarter of a century. They may tell you
otherwise others may tell you otherwise but
believe me they hire whores to play cards with them
or read stories into their old grey ears just to fool
their frie
nds!" The laughter grew louder, and the
Israeli, now playing to an audience, went on,
leaning forward and pretending to speak sotto voce
to Joel. 'But you see, I hire the whores to tell me
the truth while I shtup them! They tell me these
fancy talkers nod off by nine o'clock, whining for
warm milk. With the Ovaltine, if it's possible!"
"My dear sabre," said Leifhelm, talking through
his laughter, "you read your own romantic fiction
too assiduously. '
"You see what I mean, Converse?" asked
Abrahms shrugging, palms extended. "You hear
that? 'Assiduously. Now you know why the Germans
lost the war. They forever spoke so dramatically of
the Blitzkrieg and the AngrifJ:e, but actually they
were talking assiduously about what to do next!"
"They should have given you a commission,
Chaim," said Bertholdier, enjoying himself. "You
could have changed your name, called Rommel and
Von Runstedt Jews and taken over both fronts."
"The High Command could have done worse,"
agreed the Israeli.
"I wonder, though," continued the Frenchman,
"if you would have stopped there? Hitler was a fine
orator, as you are
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 281
a fine orator. Perhaps you would have claimed that
he, too, was a Jew and moved into the chancellery."
"Oh, I have it on good authority that he was a
Jew. But from a very bad family. Even we have them;
of course, they're all from Europe."
Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt Page 43
