one crisis after another, from the crash in the
Boulevard Raspail, and Prudhomme's revelation that
she was being followed, to her arrival at Annecy on
the one o'clock flight from Paris itself delayed by a
malfunctioning luggage door. Her nerves were
stretched to the outer limits, but she knew above all
that she could not lose her control. l:)oing so would
only rivet attention on her; it briefly had.
There were no seats on the seven o'clock flight
and the eleven o'clock plane had been overbooked.
Only those with lockets in their hands were
permitted through the gate. She had protested so
angrily that people began staring at her. Then she
had retreated to the soft-spoken bribe, which only
served to irritate the clerk not because he was
morally offended but because he could not
accommodate her and accept the money. Again
passengers behind and on both sides, in both lines,
had looked over as the clerk admonished her with
true Gallic hauteur. It was no way to get to
Chamonix alive, Val had thought, and had accepted
a locket on the one o'clock flight.
The plane landed at Annecy over a half-hour late,
several minutes after three, and the subsequent crush
at the taxi platform caused her to behave in a way
she generally tried to avoid. Being a relatively tall
woman tall in appearance, certainly she knew the
effect she provoked when she looked down
disdainfully at those around her. A genetic
preordinabon had made her privileged, didn't they
know? Foolishly, too many people accepted the
posturing as proof of innate superiority; the women
were intimidated, the men both inbmidated and
sexually aroused. The tactic had gained her a few
forward places in the taxi line, but the line was still
long. Then she had happened to glance to her right;
at the far end of the platform were glistening
limousines, with several chauffeurs leaning against
them, smoking cigarettes, picking their teeth and
chattering. What in heaven's name was she doings She
had broken away from the line, opening her purse as
she ran.
584 ROBERT LUDLUM
Her final frustration now was the result of
something she should have remembered. There was
a point in the theatrical setting that was the
wondrous "village" of Chamonix where automobiles
could not pass and only small official and jitneys for
tourists were allowed. She got out of the limousine
and walked rapidly down the wide, crowded
boulevard. She could see the large red cable-car
terminal in the distance. Somewhere above, above
the clouds, was Joel. Her Joel. She could not stop
herself; she did not try to maintain the control she
had imposed on herself all day. She began to
run faster faster! Be up there, my darling! Be alive,
my darling my only darling!
It was ten minutes to five when Converse
screeched into the parking lot; he slammed on the
brakes and leaped out of the car. There had been
tragic on the Mont Blanc autoroute a holdover at
the new construction over the vast gorge bridge.
Every muscle in his right leg had been cramped by
the exertion of seizing every opportunity to swing
around the lethargic traffic.. He was here! He was in
Chamonix, the majestic splendor of the Alps in
front of him, the village below. He started running,
taking swallows of breath from the clear air of the
mountains, forgetting the pain for she had to be
there' Please, Val, make itil love you so . . . goddamn
it, I need you so! Be there!
She stood outside the cable lift looking at the
clouds below on the mountains that formed a wall
of mist hiding all earthly concerns. She shivered in
the Alpine cold but she could not leave. She stood
by the stone railing, by a thick mountain telescope
through which tourists could observe the wonders of
the Alpine world for a few francs. She was fright-
ened to death that he would not come could not
come. Death.
It was the last cable car, none were permitted
after the sun descended over the western
peaks cables were suddenly frozen with shadows.
Except for the bartender and several customers
inside the glass doors of the bar, she was the only
one there. Joel! I told you to stay alive! Please do
what I said, my darling my only darling! My only
love!
The cable car laboriously approached, then
screechingly came to a stop. There was no one
there. It was empty! Death.
And then he walked into view, a tall man in a
clerical col
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 585
far, and the top of the world made sense again. He
stepped out of the car and she ran to him as he ran
to her. They embraced, holding each other as they
had never held each other as man and wife.
"I love you!" he whispered. ' Oh, God, I love you."
She pulled back, holding his shoulders, tears
filling her eyes. "You're alive, you're here! You did
what I asked you to do."
"What l had to do," he said. "Because it was you."
35
They slept naked, their bodies together, their
arms around each other, for a while pushing out the
world as they knew it to be, a world they would face
in the morning. But for a bme there had to be
something for themselves, for each other, giving and
receiving, precious hours alone, speaking in whispers,
trying to understand what they had lost and why,
each telling the other it would never be lost again.
When morning came, they wanted to deny its
arrival, yet not completely. There ureas the world as
they knew it, and there was another world as the
generals of Aquitaine would have it.
They ordered Continental breakfasts and an extra
pot of coffee. While Val combed her hair Joel went
to Me window and looked down at the colorful,
vibrant town of Chamonix. Hoses pouring out water
were seemingly everywhere the streets were being
washed down. The storefronts were splashed until
they glistened. Chamonix was preparing for the
onslaught of summer tourists thinking of which,
mused Converse, they had been lucky to find rooms.
They had gone to three hotels the first was nearly
a disaster before they reached the desk. "For Cod's
sake, get rid of that collar!" Valerie had whispered.
None of the three had anything available, but the
fourth, the Croix Blanche, had just received a
cancellation.
"I'll go out and get you some clothes later," said
Val, coming up behind him, placing her head on his
shoulder.
586 ROBERT LUDIUM
"I've missed that," he said, turning, putting his
arms around her. "I've missed you. So much."
"We've found each other, darling. That's all that
matters."
There was a knock on the door, the polite
knock of a waiter. "That'll be the coffee. Go use my
toothbrush."
They sat across from each other at the small
marble table in front of the window. It was time,
and they both knew it. Joel placed a sheet of hotel
stationery beside his coffee and a hotel pen on top.
"I still can't get over my aunt!" said Val
suddenly. "How could I have done it? How could I
not have known?"
"A couple of times I asked myself the same
question." Converse smiled gently. "About you, I
mean."
"I'm surprised you didn't throw me out of the cable
car."
"Only crossed my mind twice."
"God, I was stupid!"
"No, you were desperate, " corrected Joel. "Just
as she was desperate. You were grasping at
possibilities, for help. She was desperately trying to
go back to the only meaningful days of her life. A
person can be terribly convincing feeling like that.
She had the proper words, all those esoteric phrases
you'd heard all your life. You believed her. I would
have believed her too."
"You're devastating when you're kind, darling.
Go easy, it's morning."
"Tell me about Sam Abbott," he said.
"Yes, of course, but before I do, I want you to
know we're not alone. There's a man in Paris, an
inspector from the Surete, who knows you didn't kill
Rene and you couldn't have killed the one they
called a chauffeur at the George Cinq."
Startled, Joel leaned forward over his coffee.
"But I did kill that man. God knows I didn't mean
to I thought he was reaching for a gun, not a
radio but I fought him, I smashed his head into
the wall; he died from a cranial something-or-other."
"No, he didn't. He was killed in the hospital. He
was suffocated; his lungs were collapsed by
suffocation. It was unrelated to his injuries, that's
what Prudhomme said. As he put it, if you didn't
kill the driver and you didn't kill Rene, how many
others didn't you kill? He thinks you've been set up,
he doesn't know why any more than he can
understand why evidence has been suppressed, or
suddenly found when it should have been found
earlier if it existed in this case your finger
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 587
prints in Mattilon's office. He wants to help; he gave
me a telephone number where we can reach him."
"Can we trust him?" asked Joel, writing a note on
the stationery.
"I think so. He did something remarkable this
morning, but I'll get to that."
' The man at the George Cinq," said Converse
softly. "Bertholdier's aide. It's where the running
began. It's as though the moment was suddenly
seized upon, someone recognizing a possible strategy,
not wanting to let the opportunity slip away. 'Brand
him a killer now, maybe we can use it, build on it.
All it costs is a life.'lesus!''Joel struck a match and lit
a cigarette. "Go on, ' he continued. "Go back. What
about Sam?"
She told him everything, starting with the
madness at the St. Regis in New York the
frightening telephone call that led to an intense
young man racing up the steps and an Army officer
running after her down the street.
"The odd thing here," interrupted Converse, "is
that those men, that call, might have been
legitimate."
"What? How? The first one looked like a Hitler
youth, and the other was in uniform!"
'Most people in uniform would be the first ones
to want the generals of Aquitaine cut loose in a
typhoon. Remember, Fitzpatrick said those four
dossiers came from way down deep in official vaults,
and judging from much of the material, Connal
thought there was heavy military input. Maybe my
silent partners in Washington are beginning to crawl
out of their sewers. Sorry. Go on."
She told him of meeting Sam at the diner in Las
Vegas the married Sam, Sam the father of two
young girls. Wincing, Joel listened, all his antennae
revolving, catching every turn of phrase, every
meaning that might have more than one meaning,
trying desperately to find a clue, a wayffomething,
anything they might use or act upon. And then he
held up his hand, signaling Val to stop.
"The three of you were going to Washington?"
"Yes."
"You and Sam and this third person he was going
to see, going to talk to the one he said would know
what to do."
"Yes. The man who had Sam killed. He was the
only one Sam talked to."
588 ROBERT LUDLUM
"But Abbott said he trusted him. With 'his life,'
I think you said."
"Sam said," corrected Valerie. "He was wrong."
"Not necessarily. Sam was easygoing but not
easily conned. He chose his friends carefully; he
didn't have too many because he knew his rank was
vulnerable."
"But he didn't talk with anyone else_"
"I'm sure he didn't, but this other man had to. I
know something about crisis conferences in
Washington and that's exactly what Sam meant
when he said you were going there. Those meetings
don't just happen; some strong words are used to
cut a path through the bureaucratic mess. Certainly
Sam's name would be put forward first he had the
status and the rank and just possibly my name, or
yours, or even Delavane's, any of which would have
been enough." Converse picked up the pen. "What
was his name?"
"Oh, Lord," said Val, closing her eyes, her
fingers massaging her forehead. "Let me think....
Alan, the first name was Alan.... Alan Metzger?
Metland... ?"
"Was there a rank, a title of some kind?"
"No. Metcalf! Alan Metcalf, that was it."
Joel wrote down the name. "Okay, let's get to
Paris, the man from the Surete."
She began with the odd behavior of the
immigration officials, which led to the strange
meeting with the weary, rumpled Prudhomme. She
reached the end of the Frenchman's startling
revelations, repeating herself but filling in all the de-
tails she had omitted previously. When she finished,
Converse held up his palm for the second time, his
mouth open in astonishment, his eyes wide and
alive.
"The Taffana family?" he asked incredulously.
"Are you certain?"
"Completely. I asked him again this morning."
"This morning? Yes, you said he did something
remarkable this morning. What happened?"
"He stayed up all night outside the hotel in his
car, and when I left in a taxi shortly after the sun
was up he crashed and I mean crashed into the
car behind us. I was being followed. He told me to
hurry up and get out of there. That's when I asked
him to repeat the name. It was Tatiana."
"That was the name R
ene told me to use with
Cort Thorbecke in Amsterdam. 'Say you're a
member of the Tatiana family. Those were his
instructions. '
THE AQUITAINE
PROGRESSION 589
"What does it meant"
"Rene didn't go into it too deeply, but I got the
drift. Ap~arently it means some kind of trust, a
litmus test that clears omeone for a level of
information that would be withheld rom ninety-nine
percent of the people wanting it. '
"Why?"
"It sounds crazy, but Mattilon said it was because
who~ver was part of Tatiana was trusted by the
most suspicious eople on earth men who couldn't
afford to make a mis:ake."
"My God, who?"
"Russians. Commissars in the Kremlin who float
money ut to brokers in the West who invest it."
"You're right," said Val. "It's crazy."
"But it works, don't you see? Decent men who for
one reason or another found themselves in a world
they probably rated, never knowing whom they could
trust, figured out a rode among themselves. To be a
member of the Tahanas is some kind of clearance.
It's not only a signal of emergency it's more than
that. It means that whoever sends that signal is all
right in spite of what he may have to do. I'll bet it's
one hell of a small circle. Rene, this Prudhomme,
they'd fit into it. And for us it's a key, we can trust
it."
"You're in court, aren't you?" said the now and
former Mrs. Converse, reaching across the table for
his free hand.
"I don't know any other way to do it. Facts,
Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt Page 91
