hand. "Thanks again. You know the help yoifve been. I woet belabor it."
"You can forget about the envelope, if you like," said Gravet, shaking
hands, studying Michaels face in the shadows. 'You may need the money, and
my expenses were minimal. I can always collect on your next trip to Paris."
"Doet change the rules, we've lived too long by them. But I appreciate the
vote of confidence."
"You were always civilized, and I don~t understand any of this business.
Why her? Why you?"
"I wish to God I knew."
'Ilat's the key, isn't it? Something you do know."
"If it is, I haveet the vaguest idea what it could be. Good-bye, Gravet."
"Non, au revoir. I really don't want the envelope, Mikhail. Come back to
Paris. You owe me." The distinguished critic turned and disappeared up the
alley.
There was no point in being evasive with 116gine Broussac; she would sense
the evasion instantly, the coincidence of timing being too unbelievable. On
the other hand, to give her the advantage of naming the rendezvous was
equally foolish; she would stake out the area with personnel the Quai
d'Orsay bad no idea were on its payroll. Broussac was tough, knowing when
and when not to involve her government, and depending upon what jenna bad
told her, she might consider any dealings with an unbalanced retired
American field officer more suited to treatment by unofficial methods. There
were no checks and balances in those methods; they were dangerous because
there was no fine of responsibility, only diverted monies that no one cared
to acknowledge. Drones by any other names or payments were first cousins to
the practitioners of violence-wb6tber employed by Rome in Col des Moulinets
or by a VKR officer in a cheap hotel on the Rue Etienne. All were
essentially lethal, it was merely a question of degree, and all should be
avoided unless one was the employer. Havelock understood; be bad to get
Broussac alone, and to do that, be had to convince her that he was not
Trm PARSrFAL MOSAIC255
dangerous-to, ber-and might have information that could be extraordinarily
valuable.
An odd thought struck him as be descended the endless steps of Montmartre.
He was talking to himself about the truth. He would tell her part of it,
but not all of it. Liars twisted the truth and she might listen to their
version of the truth, not his.
She was in the Paris telephone book. Rue Losserand.
". . . I've never given you wrong information and Im not going to start
tonight. But it's out of sanction. Way out. So that you can judge just how
far, use someone else's name at the Qua! &Orsay and call the embassy. Ask
about my status, directing the miquiry to the senior attacb6 of Consular
Operatfons. Say I called you from somewhere in the South and wanted to set
up a meeting. As an official of a friendly government, request
instructions. III call you back in ten minutes, not on this phone, of
course."
"Of course. Ten minutes." R6gine?-
'Yes?'
"Remember Bom"
"Ten minutes."
Havelock walked south to Berlioz Square, checking his watch frequently,
knowing he would add an additional five to seven minutes beyond the stated
ten. Stretching a callback under tension often exposed more than the
recipient intended to reveal. There was a cabine on the corner, a young
woman Inside screaming into the phone, gesturing frantically. In a fit of
temper she slammed down the receiver and stalked out of the booth.
"Vachel" exclaimed the angry girl as she passed Havelock, furiously
adjusting the shoulder strap of her large purse.
He opened the door and walked in; the extended stretch time bad reached
nine minutes. He made the call and listened.
"Yes?" Broussaes voice broke off the first ring. She was anxious; she had
reached the embassy.
"Did you speak to the attacbO"
~You!re late. You said ten minutm"
"Did you speak to him?'
"Yes. 11 meet with you. Come to my flat as soon as you can..
"Sorry. nicall you back in a little while."
256 RoBERT LuDLum
"Havelockl"
He bung up and walked out of the booth, his eyes scanning the street for a
vacant taxi.
Twenty-five minutes later he was in another booth, the numbers
indistinguishable in the shadows. He struck a match and dialed.
Yesr
'Take the M6tro to the Bercy station, and walk up into the street. Several
blocks down on the right is a row of warehouses. III be in the area. Come
alone, becauseril know if you don't. And if you don't, I won't show."
'This is ridiculow! A lone woman at night in Bercyl"
"If theries anyone around at this hour, III warn him about
YOU.
"Preposterousl What are you thinking of?"
A year ago in another street," said Michael. "Of Bonn." He lowered the
phone into the cradle.
The area was deserted, the row of warehouses dark, the streetligbts dim,
the wattage low by municipal decree. It was a favorable hour and location
for a drop that entailed more than a pickup or an exchange of merchandise.
A conversation could be held without the din of crowded streets or the jos-
tling of impatient pedestrians, and unlike a caf6 or a city park, there
were few places where an unknown observer could conceal himself. The few
residents who emerged from the lighted cavern of the M6tro up the street
could be watched-hesitation or sudden disappearance could be noted; a stray
automobile could be seen blocks away. The complete advantage was found, of
course, in being there at the rendezvous before it was established. He was;
he left the booth and started across the Boulevard de Bercy.
Two trucks were parked, one behind the other, at the curb in front of a
loading platform. Their open-planked carriages were empty, stationary
symbols of an early-morning call for the drivers. He would wait between the
two vehicles, the sight lines in either direction clear. R6gine Broussac
would come; the agitated huntress, prodded and provoked, would be unable to
resist the unexplained.
Eleven separate times be heard the muted rumble of the underground trains
and felt the vibrations in the concrete and earth beneath him. Starting
with the sixth, he concentrated on the M6tro's entrance; she could not have
arrived
THE PAmxFAL Mosmc 257
before it did. However, radio dispatch was commonplace and rapid; only
minutes after the second call he had begun to study the street, the
infrequent automobiles, the less frequent bicycles. He saw nothing that
alarmed him, and the most insignificant intrusion would have done so.
The twelfth rumble stopped, the faint vibrations still echoing underfoot,
and by the time the below-ground thunder commenced again he could see her
climbing up the steps; her short, broad figure emerging from the brighter
light into the dimly fit street. A couple preceded her; Michael watched
them carefully. They were elderly, older than Broussac, their pace slow and
deliberate; they -would be of no value to her. They turned left, around the
&
nbsp; squared iron latticework of the entrance, and away from the trucks and the
warehouses; they were no part of a night unit. R6gine continued forward
with the hesitant stride of an apprehensive older woman aware of her
vulnerability, her bead turning slowly, reluctantly at each odd noise, real
and imagined. She passed under a streetlight and Havelock remembered; her
skin was as gray as her short-cropped hair, testimony to years of
unacknowledged torments, yet her face was softened by wide blue eyes as of-
ten expressive as they were clouded. As she passed through the light into
the shadows, Gravet's words came back to Havelock: "Violence, pain, loss."
116gine Broussac bad lived through it all and survived-quiet, wary,
silently tough, and in no way beaten. She reveled in the secret, unseen
powers her government had given her; it helped her get even. Michael
understood; after all, she was one of them. A survivor.
She came alongside him on the pavement. He called out softly from between
the trucks, Wgine."
She stopped, standing motionless, her eyes straight ahead, not looking at
him. She said, -Is it necessary to hold a weapon on me?"
"I have no gun aimed at you. I have a gun, but it's not in my hand."
"Biele Broussac spun around, her purse raised. An explosion blew a hole
through the fabric, and the concrete and stone shattered beneath Havelock's
feet, fragments of rock and cement piercing his trousers, scraping his
flesh. "For what you did to Jenna Karasl" shouted the woman, her face
258 ROBERT LUDLUM
contorted. "Do not movel One step, one gesture, and I will put a bole in
your tbroatf"
"What are you doing?"
"What have you done? Whom do you work for now?"
"Myself, goddamn you! Myself and Jenna!" Havelock raised his hand, an
instinctive move but no less a plea. It was not accepted.
A second explosion came from the shattered purse, the bullet grazing his
outer palm, ricocheting off the truck's metal, whining out into the night.
"Arrgtez! I'd as soon deliver a corpse as a breathing body. Perhaps more so
in your case, cochon."
'Deliver to whom?"
"You said you would call me 'in a little while'-were they not your words?
Well, in a little ~vbile several colleagues of mine will be here, a time
span I was willing to risk. in less than thirty minutes you would have felt
secure; you would have shown yourself. When they arrive we'll drive to a
house out in the countryside where we sball have a session with you. Then
well give you to the Gabriel. They want you very badly. They called you
dangerous, that's all I had to know
. with what I already knew."
"Not to youl I'm dangerous to them, not youl"
"What do you t ' ake me for? Take us for?"
"You saw jenna. You helped her-"
'I saw her. I listened to her. I heard the truth."
"As she believes it, not as it isl Hear mel Listen to mel"
'You'll talk under the proper conditions. You know what they are as well as
I do."
"I don't need chemicals, you bitchl You won't bear anything differentf"
"We'll follow procedures,- said Broussac, removing her hand and the gun
from the ruptured purse. "Move out of there," she continued, gesturing with
the weapon. "Youre standing in the shadows. I don't like it."
Of course she didn't like it, thought Havelock, watching the old woman
blink her eyes. As with many aging people, it was clear that night was no
friend to her vision. It accounted for her constantly moving head as she
walked away from the lighted entrance of the M6tro; she bad been as
concerned with the unexpected shadows as with sounds. He had to keep her
talking, divert some part of her concentration.
TIM PARSIFAL MOSAIC259
"You think the American embassy will tolerate what you're doing?" said
Michael, stepping out of the patterned shadow created by the slats of the
open truck and the spiR of the streetlamps.
"There'll be no international incident; we bad no alternative but to sedate
you. In their words, you're dangerous."
"They won't accept that and you know it."
"They'll. have little choice. The Gabriel has been alerted that a situation
of extreme abnormality exists in which a former American intelligence
officer-a specialist in clandestine activities-may be attempting to
compromise an official of the Quai d'Orsay. The anticipated confrontation
will take place twenty miles from Paris, near Argenteuil, and the Americans
are requested to have a vehicle with armed personnel in the vicinity. A
radio frequency has been established. We will turn over an American problem
to the Americans once we learn the nature of the extortion. We protect the
interests of our government. Perfectly acceptable, even generous."
"Christ, you're thorough."
"Very. I've known men like you. And women; we used to sbave their beads. I
despise you."
"Because of what she told you?'
"Like you, I know when I've beard the truth. She did not Ife."
"I agree. Because she believes it all-just as I did. And I was wrong-God,
was I wrong-just as she's wrong now. We were used, both of us used."
"By your own people? For what purpose?"
"I don~t knowl"
She was listening, her concentration beginning to split. She could not help
herself, the unexplored was too compelling.
"Why do you think I reached you?" be asked. "For Christ's sake, if I bad
the leverage to find you, I could have bypassed youl I don't need you,
116gine. I could have learned what I wanted to learn without you. I called
you because I trusted youl"
Broussac blinked, the gray flesh around her eyes wrinkling in thought.
"You'll. have your chance to talk-under the proper conditions."
"Don't do thisl" cried Michael, taking a short step forward. She did not
fire; she did not move her gun. "You~ve set it in
260 ROBERT LuDLum
motion; you'll have to turn me overl They know its me and you'll be forced
to. Your friends'll insist. They're not going to go down with you, no matter
what you bear from me-under proper conditionsl"
"Why should we go down?"
"Because the embassy is being lied to. By people way the hen UPI"
The old woman's eyes now blinked rapidly as she flinched. She had not fired
when he moved only seconds ago.
Nowl
Havelock lunged forward, his right arm extended, rigid, as straight as an
iron bar, his left band under his wrist. He made contact with the gun,
sweeping it aside as a third explosion broke the silence of the deserted
street. With his left hand he grabbed the barrel and ripped it out of her
grip, then slammed her against the wall of the warehouse.
'Cochonf Traftrer screamed Broussac, her face twisted. 'KiU mel Youll learn
nothing from mel"
He held his forearm across her throat-in agony from the
wound in his shoulder-as he pressed her head back into the
brick, the weapon in his hand. 'Vbat I want can~t be forced
from you, R6gine," he s ' aid, while gasping for breath. "Don~t
you understand? It has to be given."
"Nothingl Which terrori
stes bought you? Meinbof cowards? Arab pigs? Israeli
fanatics? Brigate Rosse? Who wants what you can sell? ... She knew. She
found outl And you must kill herl Kill me flrst, betrayerl"
Slowly Havelock released the pressure of his arm and, slower still, he
moved his body away from hers. He knew the risk; he did not take it
lightly. On the other band, he knew R6gine Broussac. After all, she was one
of them; she bad survived. He removed his arm and stood in front of her,
his eyes steady, looking into hers.
"I've betrayed no one except myself," be began. "And through myself a
person I love very much. I meant what I said. I can~t force you to tell me
what I have to know. Among other things, you could lie to me too easily,
too successfully, and I'd be back where I was ten days ago. I won~t do
that. if I can't find her, if I can't have her back, perhaps it doesn't
matter. I know what I did and ies killing me. I love her ... I need her. I
think we both need each other more than anything else in the world just
now. We're all
THE PARSTFAL MOSAIC261
each other has left. But rve learned something about futility over the
years." He raised the gun in his left hand, taking the barrel with his
right. He held it out to her. "You've fired three times; there are four
shells left."
Broussac stood still, staring at him, studying his face, his eyes. She took
the weapon and leveled it at his head, her own eyes questioning, roaniing
his. Finally her grimacing features softened, astonishment replacing
hostility. Slowly she lowered the gun.
"C'est incroyable," she whispered. "This is the truth, then."
"The truth.'
B.6gine looked at her watch. "Vitel We must leave. Theyll be here in
minutes; theyll search everywhere."
"Where to? There are no taxis-"
"The M6tro. We'll take it to the Rochereau. There!s a small park where we
can talk."
"What about your teamP What1l you tell them?"
"That I was testing their alertness," she said, taking his arm as they
started up the pavement toward the lighted entrance of the underground
train. "rbat I wanted to see bow they would react in a given situation.
It!s consistent: ies late, theyre off duty, and Irm a bitch."
"Yoeve still got the embassy."
Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt Page 33
