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Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt

Page 75

by The Aquitaine Progression [lit]


  minute later he saw Val's cab take the correct right

  turn over a canal. There were two cars behind her;

  he concentrated on their shapes and sizes; instead of

  following, he continued straight ahead, pressing

  down on the accelerator, using an alternate route on

  the bare chance that he himself had been picked up

  by a hunter from Aqui

  482 ROBERT LUDLUM

  taine.Three minutes later, after two right turns and

  a left, he entered the Museumplein. The taxi was

  directly ahead, the two other automobiles no longer

  in sight. His strategy was working. The possibility

  that Val's phone was being tapped was real Rene's

  had been, and his death was the result so in Val's

  case he assumed the worst. If it was relayed that the

  Charpentier woman was heading over to the

  American consulate to pick up a business

  acquaintance, one Joel Converse would be ruled

  out. The consulate was no place for the fugitive

  assassin; he would not go near it. He was a killer of

  Americans.

  The taxi pulled into the curb in front of 19

  Museumplein, the stone building that was the

  consulate. Converse remained a half-block behind,

  waiting again, watching again. Several cars went by,

  none stopping or even slowing down. A lone cyclist

  pedaled down the street, an old man who braked

  and turned around and disappeared in the opposite

  direction. The tactic had worked. 'al was alone in

  the cab thirty yards away and no one had followed

  her from the Amstel. He could make his final move

  to her, his hand under his coat, gripping the gun

  with the perforated silencer attached to the barrel.

  He got out of the car and walked up the

  pavement, his gait slow, casual, a man taking a

  summer night's stroll in the square. There were

  perhaps a dozen people couples mainly also

  walking, strolling in both directions. He studied

  them as a frenzied but rigid cat studies the new

  mounds of mole holes in a field; no one in the

  street had the slightest interest in the stationary taxi.

  He approached the rear door and knocked once on

  the window. She rolled it down.

  They stared at each other for a brief moment,

  then Val brought her hand to her lips, stifling a

  gasp. "Oh, my Cod," she whispered.

  "Pay him and walk back to a grey car about two

  hundred feet behind us. The last three numbers on

  the license are one three, six. I'll be there in a few

  minutes." He tipped his hat, as if he had just

  answered a question from a bewildered tourist, and

  proceeded down the pavement. Forty feet past the

  taxi, at the end of the block, he turned and crossed

  the square reaching the other side with his head

  angled to the left, a pedestrian watching for traffic;

  in reality he was apprehensively watching a lone

  woman make her way down the sidewalk toward an

  automobile. He went swiftly into the shadows of a

  doorway and stood there watching, breathing

  erratically,

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 483

  peering into every pocket of darkness along the

  opposite pavement. Nothing. No one. He walked out

  of the doorway, suppressing a maddening desire to

  run, and ambled casually down the block until he was

  directly across from the rented car. Again he paused,

  now lighting a cigarette, the flame cupped in his

  hand, again waiting, watching.... No one. He threw

  the cigarette to the curb and, unable to contain

  himself any longer, ran across the street, opened the

  door and climbed in behind the wheel.

  She was inches from him, her long, dark hair

  framing her face in the dim light, that lovely face

  taut, filled now with anxiety, her wide eyes burning

  into his.

  "Why, Val? Why did you do it?" he asked, a cry in

  the question.

  "I didn't have a choice," she answered quietly,

  enigmahcally. "Drive away from here, please."

  28

  They drove for several minutes. Neither of them

  spoke. Joel was concentrating on the streets, knowing

  the turns he wanted to make knowing, too, he

  wanted to shout. It was all he could do to control

  himself, to keep from stopping the car and grabbing

  her, demanding to know why she had done what she

  did, furiously replying to whatever she said that she

  was a goddamnedfool! Why had she come back into

  his life? He was death! . . . Above all, he wanted to

  hold her in his arms his face against hers, and thank

  her and tell her how sorry he was for so much, for

  now.

  "Do you know where you're going?" asked Val,

  breaking the silence.

  "I've had the car since six o'clock. A map of the

  city came with it and I've spent the hme driving

  around, learning what I thought I had to learn."

  "Yes, you'd do that. You were always methodical. '

  'I thought I should, " he said defensively. "I

  followed you from the hotel just in case anybody else

  did. Also I'm better off in a car than on the streets."

  484 ROBERT LUDLUM

  "I wasn't insulting you."

  Converse glanced at her; she was studying him,

  her eyes roving over his face in the erratic

  progressions of light and shadow. "Sorry. I guess I'm

  a little sensitive these days. Can't imagine why."

  "Neither can 1. You're only wanted on two

  continents and in some eight countries. They say

  you're the most talented assassin since that maniac

  they call Carlos."

  "Do I have to tell you it's all a lie? All a huge lie

  with a very clear motive purpose is better."

  "No," replied Vulerie simply. "You don't have to

  tell me that because I know it. But you've got to tell

  me everything else. Everything"

  He looked at her again, searching her eyes in the

  flashes of light, trying to penetrate, trying to peel

  away the layers of clouded glass that hi id her

  thoughts, her reasons. Once he had been able to do

  that, in love and in anger. He could not do it now;

  what she felt was too deep inside her, but it was not

  love, he knew that. It was something else, and the

  lawyer in him was cautious, oblique. "What made

  you think l d see you on television? I almost missed

  you."

  "I didn't think about television, I was counting

  on the newspapers. I knew my face would be on the

  front pages all over Europe. I assumed your memory

  was not so dulled that you wouldn't recognise me,

  and reporters always pick up on hotels or

  addresses it lends authenticity."

  "I can't read anything but English."

  "Your memory is dulled. I made three trips with

  you to Europe, two to Geneva and one to Paris.

  You wouldn't have coffee in the morning unless the

  Herald Tribune was on the room-service table. Even

  when we went skiing in Chamonix from

  Geneva you made an awful fuss until the waiter

 
brought the Tribune."

  "You were in the Tribune?"

  "Class acts aside, it's their kind of story. With all

  the details. I assumed you'd pick one up and realize

  what I was doing."

  "Because we were strangers and hadn't seen each

  other in years, and, of course, you couldn't speak

  German or French or anything else."

  "Yes. It was an acceptable explanation for those

  who knew I did. A cover, I guess. A lot of people

  who speak several languages do it all the time. It's

  common practice; it cuts con

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 485

  versations short or at least keeps them to basic

  statements, and you always know if you're

  misquoted."

  "I forgot, that's your business in a way."

  'It's not where the idea came from. It came from

  Roger."

  "Dad?"

  "Yes. He flew in from Hong Kong a few days ago

  and some hungry clerk alerted the newspapers that

  he was on the flight. When he got into Kennedy it

  was a media blitz. He hadn't read a newspaper or

  listened to a radio or seen a television screen in two

  days. He was in a panic and called me. I simply

  made sure the wire services in West Berlin knew I

  was flying in."

  "How is Dad? He can't handle this."

  "He's handling it. So's your sister less so than

  your father, but her husband stepped into the breach

  and took over. He's a better man than you thought,

  Converse."

  "What's happening to them? How are they taking it?"

  "Confused, angry, bewildered. They've changed

  their telephone numbers. They speak through

  attorneys supporting you, incidentally. You may not

  realize it but they love you very much, although I'm

  not sure you gave them much reason to."

  "I think we're closer to home," said Joel quietly,

  as they approached the Schellingwouder Brug. "Our

  once and former home." They entered the dark span

  of the bridge, diaphanous lights above, speckled dots

  far below on the water. Valerie did not respond to

  his statement; it was not like her to avoid a

  provocation. He could not stand it. "Why, Val?" he

  cried, "I asked you before, and I have to know! Why

  did you fly over?"

  "I'm sorry, I was thinking," she said, her eyes

  leaving his face, staring straight ahead through the

  windshield. "I guess it's better I say it now while

  you're driving and I don't have to look at you. You

  look awful, you're a mess, and your face tells me

  what you've gone through, and I don't want to look

  at you."

  "I'm hurt," said Converse gently, trying genuinely

  to lessen the impact of his appearance. "Helen

  Gurley Brown called and wants me for

  Cosmopolitan's centerfold."

  "Stop that! It's not remotely funny and you know

  it worse, you don't even feel like saying it!"

  "I retreat. There were times when you never did

  read me right."

  486 ROBERT LUDLUM

  "I always read you right, Joel!" Valerie continued

  to focus on the road and the beams of the

  headlights; she did not move her head. "Don't play

  the serious fool any longer. We haven't time for

  that; we haven't time for your flip remarks. It was

  always a little sad to watch you put people off who

  really wanted to talk to you, but it's finished now."

  'Glad to hear it. Then talk! Why the hell did you

  walk into this?"

  Their eyes met in anger, in abrupt recognition,

  in a love once remembered, perhaps. She turned

  away as Converse steered the car into the right exit

  off the bridge, then peeled into the road that ran

  along the coastline.

  "All right," said Valerie, hesitant but in complete

  control. "I'll spell it out as best I can. I say 'as best

  I can' because I'm not entirely sure there are too

  many complications to be absolutely sure.... You

  may be a rotten husband and careless beyond

  stoning where another person's feelings are con-

  cerned, but you're not what they say you are. You

  didn't kill those men."

  "I know that. You said you knew it, too. Why

  did you come over here?"

  "Because I had tO,-' said Val, her voice firm,

  still staring straight ahead. "The other night after

  the news your picture was on every channel, so

  different from what it was years ago I walked

  along the beach and thought about- you. They

  weren't pleasant thoughts, but they were honest

  ones.... You put me through my own personal hell,

  Joel. You were driven by terrible things in your

  past, and I tried to understand because I knew what

  had happened to you. But you never tried to

  understand me. 1, too, had things I wanted to do,

  but they faded, they weren't important.... Okay, I

  thought. Someday it'll pass and the nightmares will

  go away for him and he'll stop and look at me and

  say, 'Hey, you're you. 'Well, the nightmares went

  away and it never happened."

  ' 1 concede my adversary's logic," said Converse

  painfully. 41 still don't understand."

  61 needed you, Joel, but you couldn't respond.

  You were amusing as hell, even when I knew you

  didn't feel like it, and you were terrific in bed, but

  your only real concerns were for you, always you."

  "Conceded again, learned counselor. Arld?''

  ' I remembered something I said to myself that

  afternoon when you left the apartment, said it

  silently as I watched you

  THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 487

  leave. I promised myself that if ever a person I was

  close to needed me as much as I needed you then, I

  wouldn't walk away. Call it the one moral

  commitment I've ever made in my life. Only the

  irony is that that person turned out to be you. You're

  not a madman and you're not a killer, but someone

  wants the world to think you are. And whoever it is

  has done it very well. Even your friends who've

  known you for years believe what's being said about

  you. I don't and I can't walk away."

  "Oh Christ, Val "

  'No strings, Converse. No playing an old sweet

  song and hopping into bed. That's out. I came here

  to help you, not console you. And over here I can.

  My roots go back several generabons. They may be

  withering underground but they were the

  underground undergrounds and they're willing to

  help. For once you need me, and that's a twist, isn't

  it, friend?"

  ' A veritable twist," saidJoel, understanding her

  last statement but little else, speeding down the coast

  road toward the deserted fields. "Only a few

  minutes," he added. "I can't be seen in the city and

  neither can you and you not a chance with me."

  "I wouldn't worry so much. We're being watched

  by friends."

  "What? What 'friends'?"

  "Keep your eyes on the road. There were people

  in front of the Amstel, didn't you see them?"
/>
  "I suppose so. No one got in a car and went after

  you."

  "Why should they? There were others on the

  streets and over the canals to the consulate "

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "And an old man on a bicycle in the Museumplein."

  "I saw him Was he . . . ?"

  "Later," said Valerie, shifting the large cloth bag

  at her feet into another position and stretching her

  long legs. "They may follow us out here but they'll

  stay out of sight."

  "Who are you, lady?"

  "The niece of Hermione Geyner, my mother's

  sister. You never knew my father, of course, but if

  you had he would have regaled you with tales of

  Mom during the war, but he would have choked at

  the mention of my aunt. Even according to the

  French she went too far. The Dutch and German

  undergrounds worked together. I'll tell you all about

  it later."

  "You'll tell me later? Following us?"

  488 ROBERT LUDLUM

  "You're new at this. You won't see them."

  "Shit!"

  "That's expressive."

  "All right, all right! . . . What about Dad?"

  "He's weathering it. He's staying at my place."

  "Cape Ann?"

  "Yes. "

  "I sent the envelope there! The 'sketches' I

  mentioned on the phone. It's i verything! Everything

  about what's happened. It names the names, gives

  the reasons. Everything!"

  "I left three days ago. It hadn't arrived by then.

 

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