patience-a sidewalk archaeologist.
Havelock separated a torn lamp shade from a soggy bag of haIf-eaten lunch,
and angled the small tinted mirror between them, his hands concealed by the
filthy fabric of the shade. He could see the Russian directly above in the
second-floor window, the man was leaning against the sill, watching the
street, studying the pedestrians, waiting. He would stay by that window for
a simple reason: his strike force was de-
ployed; had a counterstrike been mounted? Michael knew him-not by name or
reputation, or even from a photograph in a file, but he knew him, knew the
set of the face, the look in the eyes. Havelock had been where this man had
beenwhere he was now. The process bad been set in motion, the Word
Cautiously put out; word was awaited back at the command Post of one. The
lethal compromisers had been reached, none having allegiance to anything or
anybody except the dollar, the franc, the pound and the deutsche mark.
THE PARsrFAL Mosmc221
A sliding scale of incentive payments had been circulated, bonuses matching
the value of various contributions, the highest, of course, the kill with
proof of the kill. Word and method of the targees arrival, sightings at
specific locations, alone or with known or unknown associates, a hotel, a
caf6, a pension, a rooming house-all had value in terms of immediate
payment. A competition had been created among the qualified practitioners of
violence, each professional enough to know that one did not lie to the
command post. Todays loss was another day's kill.
Sooner or later the man in the window would start getting his responses. A
few would be mere speculation based on secondhand information; others would
be honest error, which would not be penalized but analyzed for what it was.
Then a single call would come, its authenticity established by a
descriptive phrase or a certain reaction-unmistakably the targefs-and the
command post would have its first breakthrough. A street, a caf6, a bench
perhaps in a children's park on the Seine-the practitioners would have
spread out everywhere. The hunt was on, the prize many times a yeax~s in-
come. And when the hunt came to an end, the man in the window would come
out of his movable prison. Yes, thought Michael, he bad been there. The
waiting was the worst part.
He looked at his watch, his hand buried in the refuse. There was a second
wire trash basket down the block, on the other side of the hotel's
entrance; he wondered if it would be necessary to go to it and continue
foraging. He had gone past the hotel twice in a taid-projecting his
movements on foot, calculating his timing-before he had sought out the
used-.clothing shops In the S6verine-those and an obscure shop on the
Sommerard where he had purchased ammunition for the Llama automatic and the
magnum. He had phoned Gravet seven minutes ago and told him the clock was
-on; the Frenchman would place his call from a booth in the Place Vend6me;
the crowds would guarantee his untraceable anonymity. What was holding him
up? There were so many possibilities. Occupied booths, out-of-order phones,
a talkative acquaintance who insisted on prolonging a street-comer con-
versation, all were reasonable assumptions, but whatever, Havelock knew he
could not stay where he was any longer. Awkwardly, like an old man in
pain-and indeed he was a not so young man in pain-he began to push himself
up. He
222 ROBERT LUDLUM
would force a deliberately Unfocused eye to see what It should not see.
The man in the window whipped his head around. An intrusiOn had interrupted
his concentration on the street; he walked back into the shadows of the
room. Gravet had made his call. Notc.
Michael lifted the satchel off the ground, dropped it in the
wire receptacle and rapidly walked diagonally across the
pavement toward the short flight of steps that led to the bo
tel, s entrance. With each stride be lessened his stooped
Posture to return graduaUy to normal height. As he climbed
the concrete steps be placed his hand on the side of his face,
his fingers gripping the edge of the wool knit cap. No more
than eight feet above was the window in which the Soviet
VKR officer bad been standing only seconds ago, and in sec
onds he would return. Gravees call would be brief, profes
sional; in no way could it be construed as a device. There
was a possible sighting in the Montparnasse. Was the target
injured? Did he walk with a pronounced limp? Whatever an
swers the Russian gave, the call would be terminated, proba
bly in mid-sentence. If it tvas the target, be was heading for
the M6tro; the hunter would call back
Inside the dark musty lobby with the cracked tile floor and the cobwebs
spanning the four comers of the ceiling, Havelock took off his cap,
flattened- the lapels of his disheveled jacket and ripped the already tom
cloth that hung from the bottom of his coat. it was not much of an
improvement, but in the dim light and with erect bearing, it was not
inapppropriate for a hotel that catered to drifters and whores. It was not
an establishment that scrutinized its clientele-only the legitimacy of
their currency.
It had been Michael's intention to project the image of a man painfully
coming out of a long drunk, seeking a bed in which to shake through the
final ordeal. It was not necessary; an obese concierge behind the cracked
marble counter was dozing in a chair, his soft, fat hands folded on his
protruding stomach. There was one other person in the lobby: a gaunt old
man seated on a bench, a cigarette dangling from his lips below an unkempt
gray moustache, his head bent forward as he squinted at a newspaper in his
hands. He did not look up.
Havelock dropped the cap on the floor, side-kicked it toward the wall, and
walked to his left, where there was a
I)Em PARsrFAL MosAic223
narrow staircase, the steps worn smooth from decades of use and neglect, the
banister broken in several places. He started up the creaking steps and was
relieved that the staircase was short. There were no turns, no midpoint
landings; the steps led straight from one level to the next. He reached the
second floor and stood motionless, listening. There was no sound other than
the distant hum of traffic, punctuated by sporadic shrieks of impatient
horns. He looked at the door ten feet away, at the faded painted number, 23.
He could discern no vocal undercurrent of a one-sided telephone con-
versation; the call from Gravet was over and the Soviet VKR officer was back
at his window, the elapsed time no more than forty-five seconds. Michael
unbuttoned his ragged jacket, reached underneath, and gripped the handle of
the magnum. As he pulled the gun out from under his belt, the perforated
cylinder caught briefly on the leather; with his thumb he released the
safety and started down the dark, narrow hallway toward the door.
A creak on the floorboards-not his, not under him, behind himl He spun as
the first door on the left 'beyond the staircase was pulled slowly open.
open crack was a line of sight for someone inside. A short, heavyset man
emerged, shoulders and spine against the frame, a weapon in his hand at his
side. He raised the gun. Havelock had no time for assessment or appraisal,
he could only react. Under different circumstances he might have held up
his hand and whispered sharply a word, a signal, a note of warning to avert
a terrible error; instead he fired. The man was blown off his feet,
buckling back into the doorframe. Michael looked at the gtm still gripped
in the man~s hand. He had been right to shoot; the weapon was a Graz-Burya,
the most powerful, accurate automatic produced in Russia. The VKR officer
was not alone. And if there was one . . .
A knob was being turned; it was the door directly across from Room 23.
Havelock lurched to the wall to the right of the frame; the door opened and
Michael spun around, the magnum raised chest-high, prepared to fire or
deliver a blow-or drop his arm if it should turn out to be an innocent
hotel guest. The man was in a crouch, and held a gun. Havelock crashed the
barrel of the magnum on the man's head. The Russian fell back inside the
room; Michael followed and
224 ROBLrRT Lmxum
gripped the door to prevent it from slamming shut. He held the crack open
less than an inch, stood still and wafted. There was silence in the hall
except for the faraway sounds of traffic. He backed away from the door, the
magnum leveled at it, his eyes scanning the floor for the man!s gun. It was
several feet behind the prone, unconscious figure; he kicked it forward
beside the body, kneeled clown and picked It up. It, too, was a Craz-Burya;
the detail sent to Paris was equipped with the best. He shoved it Into his
jacket pocket, reached over and pulled the Russian toward him; the man was
limp and would not be conscious for hours.
He got to his feet, went to the door and let himself out. The violent
movements bad drained him; he leaned against the wall breathing slowly,
deeply, trying to put out of his mind the weakness and pain in his body. He
couldn't stop now. Ilere was the first man In the door beyond the stair-
case; the door was open. Someone walking past woulcl look inside and go
Into hysterfes-after no doubt furtively checkIng the dead man!s pockets for
money. Michael pushed himself away from the wall, and silently, on the
balls of his thick-soled feet, made his way clown the narrow corridor past
the staircase. He pulled the door shut and started back toward Room 23.
He stood facing the barely legible numbers and knew he had to find the
strength. Ilere was nothing for it but to depend on the shock of the
totally unexpected. He tensed his chest and stepped back from the door,
then rushed forward leading with his unwounded shoulder, and crashed the
full weight of his body against the wood. The door splintered and broke
open; the VKR officer pivoted away from the window, his hand reaching for
the exposed holster strapped to his belt. He stopped, swiftly thrusting
both hands out in front of him, his eyes staring at the huge barrel of the
magnum pointed at his head.
'I believe you were looking for me,0 said Havelock.
"It appears I trusted the wrong people," answered the Russian quietly in
well-accented English.
But not your own people," interrupted MIchaeL
OYou're special.m
"You lost."
I never ordered your death. They n-dght have
THE PAWWAL Mosmc 225
*Wow yoere lytn& but it doeset matter. As I said, you lost..
'You!re to be commended," mumbled the VKR officer, his eyes straying above
Havelock's shoulder to the broken door.
'You di(Wt hear me. You lost. Theres a man In the room across the hall; he
woet be attending you.*
"I see."
"And another down the way, beyond the staircase. He!s dead."
"Nyed Molniyar The Soviet agent blanched; his fingers were stretched, taut,
six inches from his belt.
'I speak Russian, if you prefer."
'Ies immaterial," said the startled man. "rm a graduate of the
Massachusetts Institute of Technology."
'Or of the American compound in Novgorod, KGB degree.
"Cambridge, not Novgorod," objected the Russian, disdain in his voice.
"I forgot The VKR is an elite corps. A degree from the parent organization
might be considered an insult. The untutored and unskilled conferring
honors upon its In-house superfore
'Mere are no such divisions in the Soviet government.*
'My ase
'11-ds is pointless."
Yes, it is. What happened at Costa Bravar
'I have no idea what you mean."
'Yoere VKR, Barcelonal The Costa Brava Is in your seotort What happened
that night on January fourth?"
"Nothing that concerned us."
OMovel"
OWhatr
"Against the wall*
It was an outside wall, built of mortar and heavy brick solid for decades,
weight pressing against weight, impenetrable. The Russian moved slowly,
haltingly in front of it. Havelock continued.
arm so special your sector chief in Moscow dDesn't know the truth. But you
do. It's why yoxere here in Paris, why You put out the premium on me~"
"You've been misinformed. It Is a crime tantamount to treawn to withhold
Information from our superiors. As to my
226 ROBERT LUDLUM
. , 9 from Barcelona, mmly you understand that. Tt was your last assignment
and I was your last counterpart. I had the most up-to-date Information on
you. Who better to send In after you?"
wyou're very good. You glide well."
"rve, told you nothing you don~t know, nothing YOU could not learn."
wYou missed something. Why am I special? Your colleagues at the KGB haven't
the slightest Interest in ma On the contrary, they woet touch me; they
consider me a bad text. Yet you say rin special. The Voennaya wants me.'p
"I won!t deny theWs a degree of interservice rivalry, even departmentaL
Perhaps we learned It from you. You have an abundance of ft."
"You haven!t answered my question."
'We know certain things our comrades are not aware of
'Such as?*
'You were placed 'beyond salvage' by your own govern~ ment."
"Do you know why?*
"Me reasons at this juncture are secondary. We offer refuge. W
'Me reasons are never secondary," corrected Michael.
"Very well," agreed the Soviet officer reluctantly. OA judgment was made
that you are unbalanced."
"On what basis?"
'Pronounced hostility, accompanied by threats, cables. Delusions,
hallucinations."
"Because of Costa Brava?'
WYes."
0just like that? One day walking around sane, Ong m ports, honorably
retired; the next a cuckoo bird whistling at the moon? Now yotere not very
good. Yoidre not gliding well at all."
*Tm telling you what I know," Insisted the Russian. "I do not make these
determinations, I follow Instructions. T%e premfurn, as you call it, was to
be paid for a meeting between us. Why should ft be otherwise? If killing
you were the objective, ft would be far simpler to pay for your whereabouts
and telephone your embassy in the Gabriel, asking for a spedfle artendon;
I can assure you we know % The Information would reach the proper personnel
and we would not be In-
THE PAr"AL MOSAIC 227
volved, no possibility of en-ors leading to future rePercussions."
But by offering me refuge and bringing me K you take back a trophy your
less talented comrades avoided because they thought I was a trap,
programmed or otherwise."
'Basically, yes. May we talk?"
We!re talking." Havelock studied the man; he was convincing, quite possibly
telling his version of the truth. Refuge or a bullet, which was it? only
the exposure of lies would tell. One had to look for the lies, not a
subordinates interPretation of the truth. In his peripheral vision
Michael-caught the reflection of a dun mirror above a shabby bureau against
the wall; he Spoke again. "You~d expect me to deliver information you know
rve got."
"We!d be saving your life. The order for 'beyond salvage! termination will
not be rescinded, you know thae
Yoi~re suggesting I defect."
-What choice do you have? How long do you think You can keep running? How
many days or weeks will it be before their networks and their computers
find you?"
"I'm experienced. I have resources. Maybe Im willing to take my chances.
Men have been known to disappear-not into gulags, but to other places-and
live happily ever after. What else can you offer?"
"Mat are you looking for? Comfort, money, a good life? We offer these. You
deserve them."
aNot in your country. I wodt live in the Soviet Union.-
"Oh?"
"Suppose I told you I`W~ picked out a place. les thousands Of miles away in
the Pacific, in the British Solonions. rve been there-, it!s civilized but
remote, no one would ever find me. Given enough money, I could live well
them'
"Arrangements can be made. I am empowered to guaranr tee that~*
Lie number one. No defector ever left the Sm*t Union and the VKR officer
kneto it.
You flew into Paris last night. How did you know I was here?"
"Informants in Rome, how elser
"How did they learn?"
"One doesdt question informants too closely:'
Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt Page 29
