paper arrived, and even more childishly planing the
martyr as his wife went off to the slopes. When she
had suggested that she really did not care to go
without him, it was worse. He had charged her with
trying to be some kind of saint. He would be
perfectly fine he had things to read, which artists
would not understand. Reading, that was.
Oh, what a little boy he had been, thought Val.
But during the nights it was so different, he was so
different. He became the man again, loving and
tender, at once the generous lion and the sensitive
lamb. They made love, it seemed, for hours on end,
the moonlight on the snow outside, finally the hint
of the sun's earliest rays on the mountains until they
fell together into exhausted sleep.
On their last day before heading back to Geneva
for the night flight to New York, she had surprised
him. Instead of going out for a few final hours of
skiing, she had gone downstairs at the hotel and
bought him a sweater, to which she sewed a large
patch on the sleeve. It read: DOWNHILL
RACER CHAMONIX. She had presented it to
him while a porter waited outside the door with a
wheelchair she had made arrangements through
the influential manager of the hotel. They were
taken to the confer of Chamonix, to the cable car
that scaled thirteen thousand feet to the top of
Mont Blanc through the clouds to the top of the
world, it seemed. When they reached the final apex,
where the view was breathtaking, Joel had turned to
her, with that silly, oblique look in his eyes that
belied everything he was and everything
THE AQUITAINE
PROGRESSION 571
..ehad been through again, as always, his way of
thanking
'Enough of this foolish scenery," he had said.
"Take off our clothes. It's not really that cold."
They had hot coffee, sitting on a bench outside,
the magificence of nature all around them. They held
hands, and ,hrist! She had felt such love that she had
to hold back the ears.
She felt the love now and got out of the chair,
rejecting he intrusion of emotion. It was the wrong
time. Whatever .larity of mind she could summon was
needed now. She had o travel halfway across the
world avoiding God knew how nany people who were
looking for her.
He had said he loved her "so much." Was it love
or was t need . . . support? She had replied with the
words "my daring" no, she had said more than that;
she had been far more Specific.. She had said "my
only darling." Was it a response corn of the panic?
Not knowing was the worst of it, thought
Converse, tudying the road signs in the wash of the
headlights. He had Steen driving for nearly seven
hours after picking up a map in the city of Hagen
while refilling the tank seven hours, and according
to the map he was still a long way from the border
crossing he had chosen. The reason lay in his
ignorance, in not knowing whether Hermione
Geyner's car had been the object of a search in the
first few hours out of Osnabruck. It undoubtedly was
now officially by the police but during those sarly
hours he could have made better time on the
highways he dared not use in case Aquitaine had
raced to Geyner's house with Val's call. He had
traveled circuitous backcountry ~roads, his pilot's
eye on the sun, veering always south until he reached
Hagen. Now the back roads were a necessity;
whether they were before he would never know.
Now, however, Hermione Geyner and her band of
lunatics must have gone to the police to report her
stolen car. Joel had no idea what they could possibly
say that would convince the Polizei that Valerie's
aunt was an injured party, but a stolen car was a
stolen car, whether driven by Saint Francis of Assisi
or Jack the Ripper. He would stay on the back roads.
Lennestadt to Kreuztal, crossing the Rhine at
Bendorf and following the west bank of the river
through Koblenz, Oberwesel, and Bingen, then south
to Neustadt and east to
572 ROBERT IUDLUM
Speyerand the Rhine again. And again south
through the bor der towns of Alsace-Lorraine, finally
to the city of Kehl. It we' where he would cross into
France, a decision based on the fact that several
years agoJohn Brooks had sent him to Strasbourg
the French city across the river border, to a terribly
dull con ference at which eight lawyers argued so
continuously wit! each other over minor aspects of
language and translation that nothing of substance
was accomplished. As a result, Joe had walked the
city and driven out to the countryside, awec by its
beauty. He had taken several boat trips up and down
the Rhine, and now he remembered the ferries that
shuttle: back and forth between the piers of
Germany and France Above all, he remembered the
crowds in Strasbourg. Always the crowds had helped
him he needed them especially now
It would take another three to four hours of
driving, but somewhere he would have to stop and
sleep for a while. He was exhausted; he had not
slept for so long he could not accu rately remember
when he had last closed his eyes. But there was
Chamonix and Val ahead. He had told her he loved
her he had said it. He had gotten it out after so
many years: the relief was incredible, but the
response even more incredi" ble. "My darling my
only darling." Did she mean it? Or was she
supporting him again, the artist's emotions riding
over reason and experience?
Aquitaine! Push everything out of your mind and
get into Francet
The polar flight from Los Angeles to Paris was
uneventful, the moonscapes of ice over the
northernmost regions of, the world hypnotically
peaceful, suspending thought by the sheer expanse
of their cold infinity. Nothing seemed to matter to
Val as she looked down from the substratosphere.
But what' ever tranquility the flight produced, it
came to an end in Paris.
"Are you in France on business or on holiday,
madame?" asked the immigration official, taking
Valerie's passport and typing her name into the
computer.
"En pen de l'un et de l'autre."
"Vous parley franpais?"
"C'est ma lance preferee. Mes parentsetaient
parisiens, " explained Val, and continued in French,
"I'm an artist and I'll be talking with several
galleries. Naturally, I'll want to travel " She
stopped, seeing the ofllcial's eyes glance up
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 573
from his screen, studying her. "Is anything the
matter? ' she asked.
"Nothing of concern, madame," said the man,
picking up his telephone and talking in a low voice,
the words indishnguishable in the hum of the
huge
customs hall. "There is someone who wishes to speak
with you."
"That's of considerable concern to me, " objected
Valerie frightened. "I'm not travelingunder my own
name for a very good reason which I suspect that
machine of yours has told you, and I will not be
subjected to interrogations or the indignity of the
press! I've said all I have to say. Please reach the
American embassy for me."
' There is no need for that, madame," said the
man, replacing the phone. "It is not an interrogation
and no one of the press will know you are in Paris
unless you tell them. Also there is nothing in this
machine but the name on your passport and a
request."
A second uniformed official hurriedly entered the
roped-offaisle from a nearby office. He bowed
politely. "If you will come with me, madame," he said
quietly in English, obviously noticing the fear in her
eyes and assuming her reluctance. "You may, of
course, refuse, as this is in no way official but I hope
you will not. It is a favor between old friends."
"Who are you?"
"Chief inspector of immigrations, madame."
"And who wishes to speak with me?"
"It would be up to him to tell you that his name
does not appear on the request. However, I'm to
give you another name. Mathlon. He says you two
were old friends and he respected him a great deal."
"Mamlon?"
"If you will be so kind as to wait in my office, I
will personally clear your luggage."
"This is my luggage," said Val, her thoughts on
someone who would bring up Rene's name. "I'll want
a police officer nearby, one who can watch through
a glass door."
"PourquoiP. . . Why, madame?"
"One mesure de surety, " replied Valerie.
"Out, bier sur, mais ce n'est pas necessaire."
'7'insiste ou je pars. "
"D'accord. "
It was explained that the person who wished to
speak with her was driving out to De Gaulle Airport
from the center
574 ROBERT LUDLUM
of Paris; it would take thirty-five minutes. Waiting,
she had coffee and a small glass of Calvados. The
man walked through the door. Of late middle age,
he was dressed in rumpled clothing, as if his
appearance did not matter any longer. His face
seemed lined as much from weariness as from age,
and when he spoke his voice was tired but
nevertheless precise.
"I will keep you but a few minutes, madame. I'm
sure you have places to go, people to see."
"As I explained," said Val, looking hard at the
Frenchman, "I'm in Paris to talk with several
galleries "
"That is no concern of mine," interrupted the
man, holding up his hands. "Forgive me, I do not
care to hear. I care to hear nothing unless madame
wishes to speak after I've spoken to her."
- "Why did you use the name of Mattilon?"
"An introduction. You were friends. May I go
back before Monsieur Mattilon?"
"Go back by all means."
"My name is Prudhomme. I am with the Surete.
A man died in a hospital here in Paris several weeks
ago. It is said your former husband, Monsieur
Converse, was responsible."
"I'm aware of that."
"It was not possible," said the Frenchman calmly,
sitting down and taking out a cigarette. "Have no
fear, this office is not 'tapped' or 'bugged.' The chief
inspector and I go back to the Resistance."
"That man died after a brutal fight with my
former husband," said Val cautiously. "I read it in
the newspapers, heard it on the radio. Yet you're
telling me he wasn't responsible for his death. How
can you say that?"
"The man did not die in the hospital, he was
killed. Between two-fifteen and two-forty-five in the
morning. Your husband was on a flight from
Copenhagen to Hamburg during those hours. It has
been established."
"You know this),"
"Not officially, madame. I was removed from the
case. A subordinate, a man with little police
experience but with the Army later in the Foreign
Legion, no less was given the assignment while I
was shifted to more 'important' matters. I asked
questions; I will not bore you with details, but the
man's lungs collapsed a sudden trauma unrelated
to his wounds. The man was suffocated. It was not
in the report. It was removed."
576 ROBERT LUDLUM
"I gather that. It's Stone."
"Mah wand, the Tatiana re-route!" exclaimed the
Southerner. "Someday you must tell me about this
here fascinatin' family of yours, Brer Rabbit."
' Someday I will."
"I seem to recollect having heard the name
somewheres around the late sixties, but I didn't
know what it meant."
"Trust whoever used it."
"Why should I do that?"
' Because whoever it was was trusted by the
hangingest judges in the world."
"Who might that be?"
"The enemy, Rebel."
"If that's a parable, Yankee, you lost me."
"Someday, Johnny, not now. What have you got?"
"Well, let me tell you, I saw the damnedest little
island over here you ever did see. It's not twenty
miles off the coast near the mouth of the Elbe, right
where it's supposed to be. In the Heligoland Bight,
they call it, which is a section of the North Sea."
"Scharhorn," said Stone, making a statement.
"You found it."
"It wasn't tough to find everybody seems to
know about it but nobody goes near a certain
southwest shoreline. It used to be a U-boat
refueling station in World War Two. The security
was so tight most of the German High Command
didn't know about it, and the Allies never got a
clue. The old concrete-and-steel structures are still
there, and it's supposed to be deserted except for a
couple of caretakers, who, I'm told wouldn't pick
you out of the water if your boat crashed into one
of the old submarine winches." Johnny Reb paused,
then continued softly, "I went out there last night
and saw lights, too many lights in too many places.
There are people out there on that old base, not
just a couple of watchmen, and you can bet a
Yankee pot roast your lieutenant commander is one
of them. Also around two o'clock in the morning
after the lights went out, the tallest mother-lovin'
antenna this side of Houston slid up like a bionic
cornstalk, but there was no corn on the top. Instead,
it bloomed like a regular sunflower. It was a disk,
the kind they use for satellite transmissions.... You
want me to mount a team? I can do it; there's a lot
of unemployment these days. Also the cost will be
minimal, because the more I think about it, the
more I appreciate your swinging
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 575
Valerie controlled herself, keeping her voice cool
and distant despite her anxiety. 'Now," she said,
"what about Mattilon? My friend, Mattilon. '
"Fingerprints," replied the Frenchman wearily.
"They suddenly are discovered twelve hours after the
arrondissement police who are very good have
examined that office. And yet there was a death in
Wesel, West Germany, within the rising and the
setting of the same sun. Your former husband's
countenance was described, his identity all but con-
firmed. And an old woman on a train to
Amsterdam the same routing who is found with a
gun in her hand again a description given. Has this
Converse wings? Does he fly unobserved over
borders by himself? Again it is not possible."
"What are you trying to tell me, Monsieur
Prudhomme?"
The man from the Surete inhaled on his cigarette
as he tore off a page from his note pad and wrote
something on it. "I'm not certain, madame, since I
am no longer officially leged in these matters. But if
your former husband did not cause the man in Paris
to die and could not have shot your old friend
Monsieur Mattilon, how many others did he not kill,
including the American ambassador in Bonn and the
supreme commander of NATO? And who are these
people who can tell government sources to confirm
this and confirm that, to change assignments of
senior police personnel at will, to alter medical
reports removing suppressing evidence? There are
things I do not understand, madame, but I am cer-
tain those are the very things I am not meant to
Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt Page 89
