is instant protection and for all of us to be taken
seriously. Not as psychopaths or as cranks or as
people with mental aberrations or diminished
capacities I think those were his words."
"Aren't they nice? What in the name of sweet
Jesus do they mean? How?"
"With formal legal documents. Responsible men
setting forth what they know and, in the case of
depositions, under qualified examination. Through
the courts, Colonel. A court it only takes one, only
one judge. On the basis of the affidavits a petition is
made to the court a court, a judge that protection
be given under seal."
"Under what?"
"Under seal. It's completely confidential no
press, no divulging of information, simply an order
from the court transmitted to the authorities most
suited to carry out the order. In this case, all the
branches of the Secret Service instructed by the court
to provide extraordinary service."
"Extraordinary? For whom?"
"The President of the United States, the
Vice-President, the Speaker of the House, the
Secretary of Defense, the Secretary of State right
on down the line. The law, Colonel. That's what the
law can do also his words, I think."
"Jesus/"
There was a rapping on the door. This time
Stone covered his automatic with the folded New
York Times. He got up and admitted a waiter, who
rolled in a table with a pot of coffee, two cups, a
bottle of Canadian whisky, ice and glasses. He signed
the bill and the man left.
"Coffee or a drink first?" asked Stone.
"My God, a drink. Please."
"I envy you."
"You're not going to join me?"
"Sorry, I can't. I allow myself one in the evening;
I'll join you then. You live in Las Vegas, so you'll
understand. I'm trying to beat the odds, Colonel. I
intend to beat them. I was fired, remember?" Stone
brought the Air Force officer a drink and sat down.
"You can't beat the odds, don't you know that?"
"I've beaten a few. I'm still here."
610 ROBERT LUDLUM
"The courts," said Metcalf, shaking his head. "A
court! It's an end run. He's using the law to go
around the flanks of the government people he
should reach but whom he can't trust. Can it work?"
"It buys time, a few days perhaps, it's hard to
tell. 'Under seal' lasts only so long. The law also
calls for full disclosure. But what's most important
is that it legitimately tightens the security around
potential targets, hopefully screwing up whatever
tactics Aquitaine is mounting, forcing the generals
to regroup, rethink. Again time."
"But that's only over here in the States."
"Yes. That's why Converse wants the time."
"What for?"
"He won't tell me, and I'm in no position to
make demands."
"I see," said the Colonel, his drink to his lips.
"You said three rooms. Who are the others?"
"You'll meet them and you won't like them.
They're two kids who stumbled into this along with
a few others I don't know, and they won't say who
they are. After Halliday reached them or one of
them they provided the dossiers for Converse.
They're young, but they're all right, Colonel. If I
ever had a son, I'd like to think he'd be one of
them."
"I have a son and I expect he would be," said
Metcalf. "Otherwise, I blew it. What are the
procedures?"
Stone sat rigidly back in the chair and spoke
slowly, his voice pitched to the static emphasis of a
monotone. He was repeating instructions not of his
own making and certainly not to his liking. "At three
o'clock this afternoon I'm to call an attorney named
Simon, Nathan Simon, one of the senior partners of
Converse's firm here in New York. Presumably by
then Converse's wife will have reached him, telling
him to expect a call from me and to please do as I
ask apparently they believe he will. To be brief
about it, Simon will come over here to the hotel
accompanied by a stenographer and take all our
depositions, along with our credentials, ranks, and
current responsibilities. He'll stay until he's
finished."
"You were right on the phone," interrupted the
military man. "We're dead."
"I said as much to Converse and he asked me
how it felt. He was inquiring, of course, from
firsthand knowledge."
"He wants all of you."
"But not you," said Stone. "He'd like your testimo
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 611
ny and, by extension, Abbott's but he won't insist
on it. He knows he can't ask you to walk in on this."
'1 walked in when that plane went down. Also
there's something else. If we can't stop Delavane and
his generals, what the hell's left for people like us?.
. . Converse wouldn't tell you what he was going to
do?"
'Not in terms of what he calls the countdown, but
yes, as far as tomorrow is concerned. He's sending
over his own affidavit and, he expects, another from
a man from the Surete who has information showing
that most of the official reports out of Paris are
lies.... And we're not dead yet, Colonel. Converse
made it clear that Nathan Simon was the best
attorney we could have as long as he believes us."
'What can a lawyer do?"
"I asked Converse the same thing, and he gave
me a strange answer. He said, 'He can use the law,
because the law isn't men, it's the law.'"
"That's beyond me," said Metcalf, irritated. "Not
in a philosophical context but how it applies
now right goddamned now! . . . Hell, it doesn't
make any difference we don't make any difference!
Once those guns go off and the bodies fall in
Washington and London, Paris or Bonn wher-
ever they've got the controls and we won't get them
back. I know that because I know how long so many
people have wanted someone to take control. Stop
the carnage, make things safe, piss on the Soviets.
God help me, there were times I thought that way
myself."
"So did 1," said the civilian quietly.
"We were wrong."
"I know that. It's why I'm here."
Metcalf drank, holding the cold glass against his
warm cheek. "I keep thinking about what Sam said
to me. 'There's got to be a fist,' he said. 'A master
list of everyone in this Aquitaine.' He ruled out all
the obvious places not in a vault, not on
paper probably electronically programmed, flashed
on with codes, as his aerial tactics were frequently
flashed on a screen inside a jet's cockpit. Someplace
no one would ever think of, away from anything
official or tied in with anyone remotely military. 'A
list. There has to be a listI' he kept saying. For a
pilot, he had a hell of an imagination. I guess it's
why he was so good at that tactical stuff at forty
thousand feet in the air. Come out of the sun where
they don't expect you,
612 ROBERT LUDLUM
or from a dark horizon where the radar can't pick
you up. He knew it all. He was a tactical genius."
As Metcalf talked, Stone leaned forward in the
chair looking intently at the Air Force officer and
absorbing every word he spoke.
'Scharhorn," he said, barely above a whisper.
"It's Sashay horn!"
The twin-engined Riems 408 circled the private
airfield at Saint-Gervais, fifteen miles east of
Chamonix, the amber lights of the two runways
throwing an orange glow up into the lower night
sky. Inside, Prudhomme checked the strap of his
seat belt as the pilot on his left received clearance
to make his final approach to the north-south strip.
Mon Dieu, what an incredible day! thought the
man from the Surete as he glanced at his right hand
under the spill of the panel lights. The dark bruises
on his fingers were at least less noticeable than the
blood that had covered his entire hand only hours
ago. His would-be executioner had not even
bothered to conceal his assignment, such was his
arrogance bred undoubtedly in the Legion
etrangere! And the sentence of death had been
delivered right inside the car at the far end of the
parking area in the Bois de Boulogne! The man had
called him at the office and, in truth, it had entered
Prudhomme's mind that this man might call him,
and so it was less a surprise than it could have
been and certainly gave him cause to be prepared.
The man had asked his recent superior to meet him
at the Bois, in the parking lot he had startling
news. He would be driving his official Peugeot, and
since he could not leave his radio phone, would the
inspector mind joining him. Of course not.
But there had been no startling news. Only
questions, asked very arrogantly.
"Why did you do what you did this morning?"
"Shave? Go to the toilet? Eat breakfast? Kiss
my wife good-bye? What are you talking about?"
"You know what I refer to! Earlier! The man on
the Boulevard Raspail. You crashed into his car,
stopping him. You threw narcotics inside. You
arrested him falselyI"
"I didn't approve of what he was doing. Any
more than I approve of this conversation."
Prudhomme had awkwardly reached for the handle
of the door with his left hand, his right having other
business.
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 613
"Stopl" his former subordinate had shouted,
grabbing his shoulder. "You were protecting the
woman!"
'Read my report. Let me go."
"I'll let you go to hell! I'm going to kill you,
meddler! Insignificant bureaucrat!"
The former subordinate had yanked a gun from
his jacket holster but he was too late. Prudhomme
had fired twice the small weapon he gripped under
his coat. Unfortunately, it was small caliber and the
ex-colonel of the Legion was a very large man; he
had lunged at Prudhomme inside the automobile.
However, the veteran of the Resistance had gone
back to an old wartime habit just in case: along the
lapels of his coat was threaded a long wire a wire
with two braided loops at each end. He had whipped
it out, and looping it over his would-be executioner's
head with his wrists crossed, he violently yanked it
taut until the flesh burst around the throat and blood
drenched Prudhomme's hands.
"We're cleared for landing, Inspector,' said the
pilot, grinning. "I swear to Christ no one would
believe this! Of course I have no intention of saying
a thing, I swear on my mother's grave!"
"She's probably drinking brandy in Montmartre at
this moment," interjected Prudhomme dryly. 'Say
nothing, and you may have another six months flying
in your foolish tobacco from Malta."
"Nothing else! Never anything else, Inspector. I
am a father!"
"You are to be commended. Six months and then
get out, do you understand?"
"On my father's grave, I swear!"
"He's very much alive and in jail he'll be out in
sixty days. Tell him to stop his presses. Government
relief checks really. "
Joel and Valerie listened in silence as the man
from the SOrete told his story. He was finished now;
there was nothing left to say. Interpol had been
compromised, the arrondissement police manipulated,
the Surete itself corrupted, and official government
communiques issued on the basis of lies all lies.
Why?
"I'll tell you because I want your help much
more help," said Converse, getting out of the chair
and going to the
614 ROBERT LUDIUM
desk, where the typewritten pages of his affidavit
were in the center of the green blotter. "Better, you
can read it yourself but I'm afraid you'll have to
read it here. In the morning I'll have copies made;
until then I don't want it to leave this room. By the
way, Val got you a reservation, a single don't ask
me how, but a clerk downstairs will have a new
wardrobe if not a new house by tomorrow."
"Merci, madame."
"The name is French," added Joel.
"Yes."
"No, I mean the name is French."
"Out. "
"No, what I mean is "
"Pardon, monsieur, " interrupted Valerie. "Le
nom sur le registry est 'Monsieur French, ' mais
'French, ' comme en anglais French. A rthur French.
"
"But I will have to sign, talk. Surely they will know."
"You sign nothing and you say nothing," said
Val, taking a key off the bedside table and handing
it to Prudhomme.
The room is paid for three days, to be precise.
After that before, if possible, if you agree to
help the three of us will be someplace else."
"Formidable. I must read."
"Mon ami mon epoux est an avocat exceptionnel.
"
'ye com prends. "
"There are some forty pages here," said
Converse, bringing the papers to Prudhomme. "To
absorb it will take you at least an hour. We'll go
downstairs and grab a bite to eat and leave you
alone."
"Bien. There is much I wish to learn."
"What about you?" asked Joel, standing over the
Frenchman. "I mean now. They'll find that body in
the car."
"Most certainly," agreed Prudhomme. "I left it
where it was along with that pig from the Legion.
But for the Surete there will be no connection to
me."
"Fingerprints? The fact that you were away from
your
"Another old habit from the war," said the man
from the Silrete, reaching into his pocket. He pulled
out a pair of extremely thin rubberised
gloves surgical gloves
cut off at the wrist. "I
washed these out at the Bois. The German occu-
pation forces had all our fingerprints in a thousand
files. There was no point in asking for our own
executions. As for my ab
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 615
settee at my desk, it is quite simple. I explained to an
assistant that I would be m Calais for several days on
a contraband investigation and would call in. My
years permit a certain latitude and Hexibility."
"That's the Surete, not the others. Not where the
Legionnaire came from."
"I am aware of that, monsieur. So I must be
careful. It vill not be the first time."
"Enjoy your reading," said Converse, nodding at
Val to join him. "If you want anything, call room
service."
"Bon appetrt," said Prudhomme.
Chaim Abrahms lifted the stiffening wrist of his
dead wife's hand, the weapon gripped fiercely in her
white fingers, and angled the gun toward her chest,
into the bloody cavern between her breasts.
The wide, brown eyes would not stay closed.
They stared up at him, accusing accusing!
"What do you want from me!" he screamed. '.1
have seen the dead. I have lived with the dead! Leave
me be, womanl You couldn't understand!"
Yet she had, for so many years. She had cooked
Robert Ludlum - Aquatain Progression.txt Page 95
