Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt

by The Aquitaine Progression [lit]

  one else take up the cause no one knew had been

  given him in Geneva.

  Jesus! The tape! If it was even twelve or

  twenty-four hours old, Val probably had not received

  the envelope he had sent from Bonn! She could not

  have. She would not have flown to Europe if she

  had!

  Oh, my God! thought Joel, swallowing the last of

  the whisky as he rubbed his forehead, his confusion

  complete. Without the envelope in Nathan Simon's

  hands, no plea to him made sense! No call to him

  would evoke anything but a demand that Joel turn

  himself in and a telephone trace would be put on the

  line. Natewould not disobey the law, he would fight

  violently for a client afterward, but not before that

  client obeyed the law. It was his religion, far more

  important to him than his temple, for the law

  allowed mistakes; it was essentially human, not

  esoterically metaphysical. Converse's hands began to

  tremble; he had to find out!

  "Your filet of sole, Meneer."

  "What?"

  "Your sole, sir," repeated the waiter. You speak

  English?"

  "But of course," said the gaunt, bald-headed man

  with detached courtesy. "We spoke before, but you

  were very excited. This district can do that to a man,

  I understand."

  "Listen to me." Joel brought his hand across

  his lips emphasising each word. 'I will pay you a lot

  of money if you will place a phone call for me. I

  don't speak Dutch, or French or German or anything

  but English. Can you understand that?"

  '1 understand."

  "To West Berlin."

  "It is not difficult, sir."

  "Will you do it for me?"

  "But of course, Mender. You have a telephone

  credit card?"

  "Yes . . . no. I don't want to use it."

  "Of course."

  "I mean I don't I don't want it recorded

  anywhere. I have money."

  "I understand. In a few minutes I shall be off my

  shift. I shall come for you. We shall place your call

  and I shall know the amount from the operator. You

  shall pay."

  "Absolutely."

  470 ROBERT LUDLUM

  "And 'a lot of money, ja? Fifty builder, ja?"

  "You're on. Yes."

  Twenty minutes later Converse sat behind a

  small desk n a very small office. The waiter handed

  him the phone. ''They speak English, Meneer."

  "Miss Charpentier, please," said Joel, his voice

  choking overwhelmed by a kind of paralysis. If he

  heard her voice he was not sure he could handle his

  own reaction. For an instant he thought about

  slamming down the phone. He could not involve

  her!

  "Hello?"

  It was she, and as a part of him died another

  part came alive. A thousand pictures flashed across

  his mind, memories of happiness and anger, of love

  and of hate. He could not speak.

  "HelloP Who's this?"

  "Oh . . . there you are. Sorry, it's a lousy

  connection. This is Jack Talbot from . . . Boston

  Graphics. How are you, Val?"

  "Fine . . . Jack. How are you? It's been a couple

  of months. Since lunch at the Four Seasons, if I

  remember."

  "That's right. When did you get in?"

  "Last night."

  "Staying long?"

  "Just for the day. I've been in crisis meetings all

  morning with another one this afternoon. If I'm not

  too bushed I'll catch the plane back tonight. When

  did you get to Berlin?"

  "Actually, I'm not in Berlin. I saw you on a

  Belgian broadcast. I'm in . . . Antwerp, but I'm

  going to Amsterdam this afternoon. Christ, I'm sorry

  about all that crap you had to take. Who would ever

  have guessed it? About Joel, I mean."

  "I should have guessed it, Jack. It's all so

  horrible. He's so very sick. I hope they catch him

  quickly for everyone's sake. He needs help."

  "He needs a firing squad, if you don't mind my

  saying so."

  "I'd rather not discuss it."

  "Did you get the sketches I sent you when we

  lost the Gillette account? I figured it was a way to

  your sackP"

  "Sketches? . . . No. Jack, I never got anything

  like that. But thanks for the thought, the sack

  notwithstanding."

  Christ! "Oh? I thought you might have looked at

  your marl.

  "I did . . . until the day before yesterday. It

  doesn't matter you'll be in Amsterdam?"

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 471

  "For a week. I wondered if you were going to

  check any of the agency's accounts up there before

  heading back to New

  "I should, but I don't think so. There's no time.

  If I do, I'll be at the Amstel Hotel. If not, I'll see

  you back in New York. You can buy me lunch at

  Lutece, and we'll swap trade secrets."

  "I've got more of them. You buy. Take care,

  youngster."

  "Take care . . . Jack."

  She was magnificent. And she had not received

  the envelope from Bonn.

  He roamed the streets, afraid of walking too fast,

  afraid of staying in one place too long, knowing only

  that he had to keep moving, watching, finding the

  shadows and letting them envelope him. She would

  be in Amsterdam by evening; he knew that, it was in

  her voice, and she had told him to reach her at the

  Amstel Hotel. Whys Why had she come? What did

  she think she was doing? Suddenly, the face of Rene

  Mattilon came to him. It was in sharp focus, filling

  his inner eye, surrounded by sunlight, the face a

  mask a death mask. Rene had been killed by

  Aquitaine for sending him to Amsterdam. Valerie

  would not be spared if the disciples of George

  Marcw Delavane thought she had flown over to find

  him, to help him.

  He would not reach her! He could not! It was

  signing another death warrant! Her death warrant.

  He had taken so much from her, given so little. The

  last gift could not be the taking of her life. Yet . . .

  yet there was Aquitaine and he meant what he had

  said to Larry Talbot on the phone. He one Joel

  Converse, was inconsequential where the gathering

  of the generals was concerned. So was A. Preston

  Halliday and Edward Beale and Connal Fitzpatrick.

  If Val could help, he had no right to let his feelings

  stop her the lawyer in him told him that, the

  outraged man confirmed it. And it was possible she

  could help, do the things he could not do himself

  She could fly back, get the envelope and go to

  Nathan Simon herself, saying that she had seen him,

  talked to him, believed he

  It was three-thirty; it would be dark by eight

  o'clock or so. He had roughly five hours to remain

  unseen and stay alive. And somehow find a car.

  He stopped on the pavement and looked up at

  an overly made-up, extremely bored whore in a

  window on the third

  472 ROBERT IUDLUM

  floor
of a colorful brick house. Their eyes made

  contact and she smiled a bored smile at him, the

  thumb and forefinger of her right hand meeting, the

  wrist motion leaving little to the imagination.

  Why not? thought Converse. The only certain

  thing in a very uncertain world was the fact that

  there was a bed beyond that window.

  The "concierge" was a clerk, a man in his middle

  fifhes with the pink face of an aging cherub, who

  explained in perfectly fluent English that payment

  was based on twenty-minute sessions, two sessions

  paid in advance, one to be refunded should the

  guest come downstairs during the final five minutes

  of the fir st period. It was a loan shark's dream

  thought Converse, glancing at the various clocks

  placed on numbered squares on the counter. As an

  elderly man walked down the staircase the clerk

  hastily grabbed one of the clocks and pushed the set

  ond hand forward.

  Joel calculated rapidly, converting Builders to

  dollars, the rate of acceleration based on roughly

  $30 per session. He gave the astonished "concierge"

  the equivalent of $275, accepted his number and

  headed for the staircase.

  "She is a friend, sir?" asked the stunned

  custodian of the revels as Converse reached the first

  step. "An old lover, perhaps?"

  "She's a Dutch cousin I haven't seen in years,"

  replied Joel sadly. "We have to have a long talk."

  With heavy shoulders, he continued up the staircase.

  "Slapen?" exclaimed the woman with the

  spangled dark hair and heavily rouged cheeks. She

  was as astonished as her keeper below. "You want

  slapen?"

  "It doesn't translate well, but yes," said Converse,

  removing his glasses and his cap and sitting on the

  bed. "Pm very tired and sleep would be terrific, but

  I suspect I'll just rest. Read one of your magazines,

  I won't bother you."

  "What is the matter? You think I am not pretty?

  Not clean? You yourself are no fine picture, Meneer!

  Cuts on your face, a bruise here and there, red eyes.

  Perhaps it is you who are not clean!"

  "I fell down. Come on, I think you're adorable

  and I love your deep-purple eye shadow but I really

  want to rest."

  "Why here)>"

  "I don't want to go back to the hotel. My wife's

  lover is there. He's my boss.''

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 473

  "A merikoans!"

  ' You speak our language very well. " Joel took

  off his shoes and stretched out on the bed.

  Ach, I start with Amerikoan college boys. All

  talk, most are too afraid for nothing but talk. Those

  who get on the bed poo].7 is over. Then talk, too

  goddamn much talk. Then your soldiers and your

  sailors and your businessmen. Most drunk; they

  behave like giggle-children. All talk. Twelve years, I

  learn."

  Don't write a book. They're probably all

  senators and congressmen and priests by now."

  Converse placed his hands behind his head and

  stared at the ceiling. There was a glimmer of peace.

  He softly whistled the tune first, then found the

  words: Yankee Doodle' came to Holland/ nothing in

  his pistol . . .' "

  'You are amusing, Meneer," said the whore,

  laughing coarsely and picking up a thin blanket off a

  chair. She carried it to the bed and spread it over

  him. "You don't tell the truth but you are amusing."

  "How do you know I'm not telling you the truth?"

  If your wife had a lover, you would kill him."

  'Not so."

  "Then she would not be your wife. I see many

  men, Meneer. It's in your face. You are a good man,

  perhaps, but you would kill."

  -1'11 have to think about that," said Joel

  uncomfortably.

  'Sleep, if you wish. You paid. I am here." The

  woman walked to the chair against the wall and sat

  down with a magazine.

  What's your name's" asked Converse.

  Emma," replied the whore.

  'You're a nice person, Emma."

  No, Meneer, I am not."

  He awoke, startled by the touch, and bolted

  upright on the bed, his hand instinctively rushing to

  his waist to make sure his money belt was in place.

  He had been so deep in sleep that for a moment he

  had no idea where he was, then he saw the garishly

  made-up woman standing beside him, her hand on

  his shoulder as she spoke.

  "Meneer, are you hiding from people?" she asked

  softly.

  "What?"

  474 ROBERT LUDIUM

  "Word goes up and down the Leidseplein. Men

  are asking questions."

  "What?' Conv' rse whipped the blanket off the

  bed and swung his legs to the floor. "What men? Up

  and down where?"

  "Her Leidseplein This district. Men ask

  questions. They look for an American. '

  "Why here?" Joel moved his right hand from the

  money belt up to the outline of the weapon above.

  "People who wish not to be seen often come

  down to the Leidseplein. "

  Why not? thought Converse. If he thought of it,

  why wouldn't the enemy? "Do they have a

  description?"

  "It is you," answered the whore frankly.

  "And?" Joel looked into the woman s eyes.

  "Nothing was said."

  "I can't believe our friend downstairs felt so

  charitable toward me. I'm sure they offered money."

  "It was given," corrected the whore. "More

  promised with additional information. A man

  remains behind down the street. In a cafe next to a

  telephone. He is to be called and will bring back the

  others. Our . . . friend downstairs thought you might

  want to match the funds."

  "I see. An auction. One head on the block.'

  "I do not understand."

  "What are we talking aboutP How much?"

  A thousand Builder. Much more if you are taken."

  "Our friend still sounds too charitable. I'd think

  he'd grab it and close up shop."

  ' He owns the building. Also, the man was

  German and spoke like a soldier giving orders,

  that's what our friend downstairs said."

  "He was right. The man is a soldier but not in

  any army Bonn knows about."

  "Zo?"

  "Nothing. Find Ollt if our friend will take

  American money."

  "Of course he will."

  "Then I'll match the offer and double it."

  The whore hesitated. "Now it is my turn."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "En? As you say and'?"

  'Oh. You?'

  'ha. "

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 475

  "I have something special for you. Can you drive

  a car, or do you know someone who can?"

  'I do myself, nataurlijk. In bad weather I drive

  my children to school."

  "Oh, Jesus.... I mean, that's good."

  "Without my face like no, course."

  The stories. Oh, God, the stories! thought

  Converse. "I want you to rent a car and bring it

  around here to
the front door. Then get out and

  leave the keys inside. Can you do that?"

  ':la, but nothing is for nothing."

  "Three hundred dollars eight hundred Builders,

  give or take."

  "Five hundred fourteen hundred, take or give,"

  countered the woman. "And the money to rent the

  automobile."

  Joel nodded as he unbuttoned his jacket and

  pulled out his shirt. The handle of the gun with the

  short barrel and the extended silencer was clearly

  visible beneath the wide canvas belt. The whore saw

  it and gasped. "It's not mine," said Converse quickly.

  "Whether you believe it or not doesn't matter to me,

  but I took it from someone who tried to kill me."

  The woman stared at him, her look partially one

  of fear but it was not hostile, only curious. "The

  man this soldier from no German army the others

  who ask questions in the street. They wish to kill

  you?"

  "Yes." Joel unzipped the belt and counted off the

  money with his thumb. He pulled out the bills and