key in it, nothing inside. He began scrutinising the
lockers around it, on both sides, below, not at all
sure what he was looking for but knowing there
would be something. He found it! Two rows above on
the left! The initials were small but clear, scratched
into the metal by a strong, precise hand: C.F. Connal
Fitzpatrick!
The Navy lawyer had done it! He had put the
explosive papers back where only the two of them
knew where they would be. Suddenly Converse felt
sick. How could he get them out? How could he get
inside? He looked around the station at the summer
crowds. The huge clock read two-thirty, in two and a
half hours the of flees would be closed the business
day over, the crowds fuller. Mattilon had told him to
reach Emmerich during the busiest time, when
workers traveled back and forth across the border at
the end of the day, and it took nearly two hours to
reach Emmerich, if there was a train. He had less
than a half hour to get inside the locker.
There was an information booth at the far end of
the cavernous station. He walked toward it, his mind
again racing, choosing words that might produce a
key. The abrasive weight of the money belt around
his waist gave him a glimpse of hope.
"Thank you very much, ' he said to the clerk, his
tortoiseshell glasses perched on his nose, the cloth
hat falling over his forehead. He had been assigned
an English-speaking, middle-aged information
dispenser with a pinched face and a bored, irritated
expression. "Quite simply I've lost the key to the
locker in which I stored my luggage and I have to get
a train to Emmerich. By the way, when is the next
one?"
"Ach, it is always ze case," replied the clerk,
thumbing a schedule. "Zozzing but trouble wiz zer
sommer people. You lose ziss, you lose zat; and you
expect everyone to help youl Zer train for Emmerich
left twenty-seven minutes ago. Zer iss another in
nineteen minuted, but nozzing after that for an
hour."
"Thank you. I have to be on it. Now, about the
locker?"
384 ROBERT LUDLUM
Joel removed a hundred-deutsche-mark note below
the counter and raised it slowly above the ledge.
"It's very important that I get my luggage and take
that train. May I shake your hand for helping me?"
"It will be donet" exclaimed the clerk quietly,
looking to his right and left, as he grasped
Converse's hand and the money. He picked up the
phone at his side and dialed abusively. "Schnell! Wir
masses ein Schliessfach offnen. Standort zehn A
uskunit!" He slammed down the phone and looked
up atJoel, a smile sculpted onto his rigid lips. "A
man will be here instantly to be of service. We are
always eager to be of service. The Amerikanen, so
thoughtful."
The man came, bulging out of his railroad
uniform, his eyes dull, his authority questionable.
"Was ist?"
The clerk explained in German, then looked
again at Converse. "He speaks some English, not
well, of course, but adequately, and he will assist
you."
"Zer are our regulations," said the official keeper
of the locker keys. "Come, show me."
"Happy birthday," said Joel to the clerk behind
the information booth.
"It is not my birthday, sir.'
"How would you know?', asked Converse,
smiling, taking the fat man's arm.
"Zer are procedures,,, said the railroad
bureaucrat, opening the locker with a master key.
"You will sign for zer contents at zer office.
It was there! His attache case was on its side,
nothing broken or slashed. He reached into his
pocket and took out his money. "I'm in a great
hurry,~' he said as he slipped out first a
hundred-deutsche-mark note, then, with hesitation,
another. "My train leaves in a few minutes." He
shook the German's hand, passing the money, and
asked calmly but with cheerful friendliness in his
eyes. "Couldn't you say it was a mistaken,
"It vas a mistaker' answered the uniformed man
enthusiastically. "You must catch a trains"
"Thank you. You're a nice person. Happy birthday.'
"I know, don't bother. Thank you again."
Glancing around rapidly but subtly, hoping
against hope that no one was watching him, Joel
walked to an unoccupied wooden bench against the
wall, sat down, and opened the attache
case everything was there. But he could not keep
it.
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 385
Again he looked around the station, knowing what
he had to find; he saw it. A drugstore or its
equivalent, there would be envelopes somewhere
inside. He closed the briefcase and got up, trusting
someone in the store would speak English.
"Nearly all of Us speak English," said the
matronly woman behind the counter near the
stationery section. 'it is practically a requirement,
especially during the summer months. What are your
needs?"
"I have to send a business report back to the
United States," answered Converse, a large, thick
envelope and a roll of tape in his right hand, the
attache case in his left, 'but my train leaves in a few
minutes and I don't have time to get to a post office.
'
"There are several post-collection boxes in the
Bahnhof; sir.
"I need stamps, postage. I don't know how
much," said Joel helplessly.
"If you will put your materials in the envelope,
seal it and address it, I shall weigh the package and
suggest the appropriate amount of stamping. We
keep sheets here for convenience, but they are more
expensive than in the post office."
"It doesn't matter. I'd like it to go airmail, with
more postage rather than less." Five minutes later
Converse handed the accommodating clerk the
heavily sealed package for weighing. He had written
a note on the top of the first dossier and printed the
address clearly on the front of the envelope. The
woman returned with the appropriate postage. He
paid her and placed the envelope on the counter in
front of him.
"Thank you," he said, looking at his watch, as he
began frantically licking the stamps and securing
them. "Would you by any chance know where I can
buy a ticket to . . . Emmerich or Arnhem, I guess?"
"Emmerich is German, Arnhem is Dutch. Any stall,
sir."
"I may not have time," said Joel, on the last three
stamps. "I suppose I could buy one on the train."
"They will not stop it if you have money."
"There." He had finished. "Where's the nearest
mailbox collection box?"
"At the other end of the Bahnhof:"
Again Joel looked at his watch, and again his
chest began to pound as he ran out into the station;
then instantly checking himself, he watched the
crowds for anyone who might be watching him. He
had less than eight minutes to mail the en
386 ROBERT LUDLUM
velope, buy a ticket and find the train. Depending
on the complications, perhaps he could eliminate
the second step. But to pay his fare on board would
mean engaging in conversahon, conceivably having
to find someone to translate the possibilities and
the possible consequences were frightening.
As he feverishly looked for the mailbox, he kept
repeating to himself the exact words he had
scribbled on the top of the first dossier's cover: Do
not repeat, do not let anyone know you have this.
If you don't hear from me within f he days, send it to
Nathan S. I'll call him if Ican. Youronceand obedient
husband. Love, 1 He then looked down at the name
and the address he had written on the envelope in
his hand and wondered, stricken by a dull, sickening
pain how could he do this to her?
Ills. Valerie Charpentier R.F.D. 16 Dunes Ridge Ca
pe Ann, Massachusetts US.A.
Three minutes later he found a mailbox and
deposited the envelope, opening and closing the slot
several times to make sure it had fallen inside. He
looked around at the signs everywhere, the German
script confusing him, the lines in front of the
windows discouraging him. He felt helpless, wanting
to ask questions but afraid of stopping anyone,
afraid that someone would study his face.
There was a window across the station, far away
on the other side; two couples had left the
line four people with a sudden change of plans.
Only one person was left. Converse hurried through
the crowds, once again trying to hold himself in
check and minimising his movements.
"Emmerich, please," he said to the clerk, as the
lone customer finally left the window. "Netherlands."
he added, enunciating clearly.
The attendant briefly turned and looked at the
clock on the wall behind him. Then he spoke in
German, the phrases fast and guttural. "Verstehen?"
he asked.
"Nein . . . Here!" Converse put three hun-
dred-deutsche-mark notes on the ledge of the
counter, shaking his head, shrugging. "Please, a
ticket! I know, I've only got a few minutes."
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 387
The man took two of the bills, shoving the third
back. He made change and pressed several buttons
beneath him; a ticket spewed out and he handed it to
Joel. "Danke. Zwei Minuten!"
The track. What track? Can you understand? Where?
'
`Wo?"
Yes, yes that's it! Where?'
`Acht. "
'What?" Then Converse held up his right hand,
raising and lowering the fingers to indicate numbers.
The attendant responded by holding up both
hands, a five-finger spread and three middle fingers.
'Acht," he repeated, pointing across the station to
Joel's left.
'Eight! Thank you. ' Converse began walking as
fast as possible without breaking into a run. He saw
the gate through the throngs of people; a conductor
was making an announcement while looking at his
watch and backing into the archway.
A woman carrying packages collided with him,
careening into his left shoulder, the bundles
plummeting out of her arms, scattering on the floor.
He tried to apologize through the abuse she hurled
at him, loud words that caused the surrounding
travelers to stop and gape. He picked up several
shopping bags as the woman's barking voice reached
a crescendo.
'`Up yours, lady," he mumbled, dropping the
packages and turning, now running to the closing
gate. The conductor saw him and pushed it open.
He got to his seat, gasping, his soft hat pulled
down over his forehead. The wound in his left arm
was aching sharply, and he thought he might have
ripped it open in the collision. He felt under his
jacket, past the handle of the gun he had taken from
Leifhelm's chauffeur. There was no blood and he
closed his eyes briefly in relief.
He was oblivious of the man across the aisle who
was staring at him.
In Paris, the secretary sat at her desk speaking on
the telephone in a low voice that was muted further
by her cupped hand over the mouthpiece. Her
Parisian French was cultured if not aristocratic.
'That is everything," she said quietly. Do you have
it?"
388 ROBERT LUDLUM
"Yes," said the man on the other end of the line.
"It's extraordinary."
"Why? It's the reason I'm here."
"Of course. I should say you're extraordinary."
"Of course. What are your instructions?"
"The gravest. I'm afraid."
"I thought so. You have no choice."
"Can you?"
"It's done. I'll see you at Taillevent. Eight o'clock?"
"Wear your black Galanos. I adore it so."
"The Great Spike anticipates."
"It is ever so, my dearest. Eight o'clock."
The secretary hung up the phone, rose from the
chair and smoothed her dress. She opened a drawer
and took out a purse with long straps; she slipped it
over her shoulder and walked to her employer's
closed door. She knocked.
"Yes?" asked Mattilon inside.
"It is Suzanne, monsieur."
"Come in, come in, " said Rene, leaning back in
his chair as the woman entered. "The last letter is
filled with incomprehensible language, no?"
"Not at all, monsieur. It's just that I . . . well, I'm
not sure it's proper to say."
"What could be improper? And if it is, at my age
I'd be so flattered I'd probably tell my wife."
"Oh, monsieur . . ."
"No, really, Suzanne, you've been here what
now? a week, ten days? One would think you had
been here for months. Your work is excellent and I
appreciate your Wiling in.
"Your secretary is a dear friend, monsieur. I
could do no less."
"Well, I thank you. I hope the good Lord sees
His way to pull her through. Young people today,
they drive so fast so terribly fast and so
dangerously. I'm sorry, what is it, Suzanne?"
"I've had no lunch, sir. I was wondering "
"My Cod, I'm inconsiderate! I'm afraid it goes
with two partners who take August seriously and go
on holiday! Please as long as you like, and I insist
you bring the bill to me and let me reimburse you."
"That's not necessary, but thank you for the offer."
"Not an offer, Suzanne, an order. Have lots of wine
and
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 389
let's both of us make messes of my partners" clients.
Now, off you go."
"Thank you, monsieur." Suzanne went to the door
opened it slightly and then stopped. She turned her
head and saw that Mattilon was absorbed in re
ading.
She closed the door silently, reached into her purse
and withdrew a large pistol with the perforated
cylinder of a silencer attached to the barrel. She
pivoted slowly and walked toward the desk.
The lawyer looked up as she approached. "What?"
Suzanne fired four times in rapid succession.
Rene Mattilon sprang back in his chair, his skull
pierced from his right eye to his left forehead. Blood
streaked down his face and over his white shirt.
22
"Where in God's name have you been?" cried
Valerie into the phone. "I've been trying to reach you
since early this morning!"
"Early this morning," said Lawrence Talbot, "when
the news broke, I knew I had to get the first plane to
Washington."
"You don't believe what they're saying? You can't!"
"I do, and worse, I feel responsible. I feel as if I'd
unwittingly pulled the trigger myself, and in a way
that's exactly what happened."
"Goddamn you, Larry, explain that."
"Joel called me from a hotel in Bonn only, he
didn't know which one. He wasn't rational, Val. He
was calm one moment, shouting the next, finally
admitting to me that he was confused and frightened.
He rambled on most of the time
incoherently telling some incredible story of having
Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt Page 60
