Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt

by The Parcifal Mosaic [lit]

that cable because he didn't know Stem was dead-or the others."

  "Only Miller's death was released," said Berquist. 'We couldn't keep it

  quiet; it was all over Bethesda. We put a blackout on Stem and Dawson, at

  least for the -time being, until we could learn what was happening. We

  moved their families to the Cheyenne security compound in Colorado

  Springs."

  "Read it'. said the general.

  Brooks held the paper under the glare of the Tensor lamp. He spoke slowly,

  reading in a monotone. "'The betrayal at Costa Brava was not ours. Nor was

  the bait taken in Athens. The infamous Consular Operations continues its

  provocative actions and the Soviet Union continues to protest its disregard

  for human life as well as the crimes and terrorist acts it inflicts upon

  the innocent-peoples and nations alike. And should this notorious branch of

  the American Department of State believe it has collaborators within the

  walls of Dzerzhinsky, be assured such traitors will be rooted out and face

  the punishments demanded. I repeat, Costa Brava was not ours."' The

  statesman finished; the cable was over. He let his hand drop to the dais,

  the page still held between his thumb and forefinger. "Good Lord," be

  whispered.

  "I understand the words," said Halyard, "but not what Vs trying to tell

  us."

  "'Better a Satan you know than one you don't,'" replied Brooks. "There are

  no walls in Dzerzhinsky Square."

  "That's it," said Bradford, turning to the President. "That's what we

  didn't connect with. The walls are in the Kremlin."

  "Outside and inside," continued the former ambassador. "He's telling you

  that be knows Costa Brava could not have taken place without a collaborator

  or collaborators in Mos-

  Cow-2'

  "We understood that," interrupted Berquist. "What about the walls? The

  Kremlin? How do you read that?"

  302 RoBERT LUDLUM

  oHe's warning us. He's saying be doesn't know who they are, and since he

  doesn't, theyre not controllable."

  "Because theyre outside the normal channels of communication?" asked the

  President.

  "Even abnormal channels," said Brooks.

  "A power struggle." Berquist turned to the undersecretary. 'Has there been

  anything of a serious nature about this from any of our intelligence

  departments?'

  "Only the usual frictions. The old guard dying, the younger commissars

  anxious, ambitious."

  "Where do the generals stand?" inquired the general.

  "Half wanting to blow up Omaha, half wanting SALT '11iree."

  "And Parsifal could unite them," said the statesman. "All their hands would

  be on the nuclear switches."

  "But Rostov doesn't know about Parsifal," protested Bradford. "He has no

  conception-"

  "He senses it," the ambassador broke in. "He knows Costa Brava was a

  Department of State operation somehow in conjunction with elements in

  Moscow. Hes tried to trace them down and can't; that alarms him immensely.

  There!s an imbalance, a shift from the norm at the highest levels."

  "Why do you say that?" The President took the cable from Brooks,

  scrutinizing it as if trying to see what be bad not seen before.

  "It's not in there, sir," said Bradford, nodding at Brooks as he spoke.

  "Except for the word 'bait,' which refers to Havelock. Remember, be didn't

  take Havelock in Athens. Rostov's aware of the very unusual relationship

  between Michael Havelock and Anthony Matthias. Czech and Czech, teacher and

  student, survivors really-in many ways father and son; where does one end

  and the other begin? Is one or are both of them dealing with someone in

  Moscow? And for what purpose? Reasonable objectives can be ruled out;

  avoiding normal channels would indicate that. Not too many months ago we

  wondered the same thing: What had Matthias done, and where did Havelock

  stand? We created Costa Brava because of it."

  "And then Parsifal reached us and it didnI make any difference,"

  interrupted Berquist. "We were at the wall. We're still at the wall-only,

  now it's grown larger, broken away from itself until there are two walls,

  our backs to each no,

  TnE PA-RsrrAL Mosmc303

  .matter which way we turn. The search for Parsifal is joined with another

  search for another man. Someone right here who's watching every move we

  make. A Soviet mole capable of pulling a buried code out of Moscow, and deep

  enough to change the face of Costa Brava.... My God, we've got to blow him

  out of the groundl If be finds Parsifal before we do, he and the madmen he

  answers to in the Kremlin can dictate whatever terms they like to this

  country."

  "You know where he is," said the general.. "Go after himl He's at State.

  High up; with access to embassy cables, and obviously goddamned close to

  Matthias. Because if I follow you now, be nailed the Karas woman. He

  supplied that code, he had it placed in her suitcase. He nailed herl"

  I think he supplied everything." Bradford shook his bead slowly, arching

  his brows, as if recalling the impossible. "Including the suitcase, the

  Baader-Meinhof informer, our own codes and the instructions from Moscow.

  Everything just appeared in Barcelona-out of nowhere. And no one really

  knows how."

  . I imagine ies pointless to press Matthias further?" said Brooks, asking

  the question nevertheless.

  "Pointless '. replied Bradford. "He repeats what he's maintained from the

  beginning. 'The evidence was there. It was true. It was channeled to me.'"

  'Me bells are heard by Saint Anthonyl" exploded the President.

  "The mole at State," Halyard persisted. "Good Christ, he can7t be that bard

  to find. How many people would Stem talk to? What kind of time frame was

  involved? A few minutes? A few hours? Go back and trace every move he

  made."

  "The Cons Op strategists operated in total secrecy," said Bradford. "There

  were no appointment calendars, no conference schedules. A call would come

  to a specific person upstairs, or over at the Agency, or the NSC, and the

  decks would be cleared for whichever strategist it was, but no record of

  the meeting was ever written down. Internal security again; a great deal

  could be pieced together by informers with access to such records or

  memoranda."

  "Misdirect the flow of accurate information at all costs," said the

  President softly.

  "By our estimates, Stem could have spoken to any of sixty

  304 RoBERT LuDLum

  to seventy-five people," continued Bradford. "And we could be

  underestimating that figure. There are authorities within teams of

  specialists, specialists among those considered authorities. The lists are

  endless, and all those people have maximum clearance."

  "But we!re talking about the State Departnwnt," said Brooks emphatically.

  "Sometime between Stern's last conversation with Rome and four hours later

  when the authorization was given to Col des Moulinets. That narrows down

  the possibilities considerably."

  "And whoever it is knows that," said the undersecretary. "It further

  obscures his movements. Even the check-ins and check-outs woet show him to


  be where he was.-

  "Didet anyone see Stem?" persisted Brooks. "Surely, you've asked.-

  "As quietly as we could. Not one of those we questioned admitted seeing him

  within twenty-four hours of the period in question, but then we didn't

  expect the one who did to say so."

  "Nobody saw him?" asked the general,frowning in disbehef.

  "Well, yes, someone did," said Bradford, nodding. 'Me outside receptionist

  on the fifth floor, L Section. Dawson bad left a message for Stem; he

  picked it up on his way to the elevator. He could have been in any of

  seventy-five offices beyond the reception-room door."

  "Who was inside at the time?" The ambassador shook his head the instant he

  asked the question, as if to say, Sorry, never mind.

  "Exactly," said Bradford, accepting the statemaes unspoken afterthought.

  "It wasn't any help. Twenty-three people were listed as not having checked

  out. There were conferences, secretaries taking notes, and briefings by

  division personnel. Everything was substantiated. No one left a meeting

  long enough to place that call."

  "But, damn it, you've got a floorl" cried the soldier. "Seventy-five

  offices, seventy-five people. That's not a hundred and fifty, or a

  thousand; Ws seventy-five and one of thenes your molef Start with those

  closest to Matthias and pull them in. Put every goddamn one of them into a

  clinic if you have tol"

  "There!d be panic; the entire State Department would be

  THE PAmiiFAL MosAic305

  demoralized," said Brooks. "Unles&-Is there a clique, a particular group,

  closest to Matthias?"

  "You don't understand him." Bradford brought his folded hands to his chin,

  searching for words. "He's first, last and always Dr. Matthias, teacher,

  enlightener, provoker of thought. He's a hustling Socrates on the Potomac,

  gathering his worshipers wherever he can find them, extolling those who see

  the light, sb-iking down the disbelievers with the cruelest humor rve ever

  heard. Cruel but always couched in brilliantly humble phrases. And like

  most self-appointed arbiters of an elite, his arrogance makes him fickle as

  hell. A section will catch his eye and they're his fair-haired boys and

  girls for a while, until another group comes along and flatters him at the

  right moment, and there~s suddenly a new court of supplicants he can

  lecture. Naturally, during the past year it's gotten worse-but it was

  always there." Bradford permitted hirnself the start of a strained smile.

  "Then, of course, I could be biased. I was never allowed in one of those

  charmed circles."

  "Why do you think you were excluded?" asked the ambassador.

  "rm not sure. I had a certain reputation of my own once; perhaps he was

  uncomfortable with it. But I think it was because I used to watch him very

  closely, very hard. I was fascinated, and I know he was uncomfortable with

  that. . * * You see, the 'best and the brightesewere led down a lot of

  strange paths by men like him. Some of us grew up, and I don7t think

  Matthias approved of that growth. Skepticism comes with it. The Thomistic

  leap isn't good enough anymore; blind faith can ruitz the eyesight-and the

  perspective." Bradford leaned forward, his eyes on Halyard. "I'm sorry,

  General. My answer to both you and Ambassador Brooks is that there is no

  one group rd zero in on, no guarantee that our mole would be caught before

  he panicked and ran. And we can't let that happen. I know rm right. If we

  can find him, he can lead us to the man we call Parsifal. He may have lost

  him temporarily, but he knows who Parsifal is.,'

  The older men were silent; they looked at each other, then turned back to

  Bradford. The general frowned, a questioning look in his clear eyes. The

  President nodded his head slowly,

  306 RoDERT LunLum

  bringing his right hand to his cheek and staring at the man from State.

  The ambassador spoke, his slender flgure rigid in his chair. "I commend

  you, Mr. Undersecretary. May I try to recons,truct the new scenario? ...

  For reasons unknown, Matthias needed an incontrovertible case against the

  Karas woman, which would lead to Havelock's retirement. By now, because of

  what he's done, Matthias is Parsifal's puppet-bis prisoner, really-but

  Parsifal knows it's in his interest to carry out Matthias's obsession. He

  goes to a well-entrenched Soviet agent in the upper regions of the State

  Department and the incriminating evidence against the Karas woman is

  provided, studied and accepted. Except that two source controls from the

  CIA come to you and tell you it can't be true-any of it-and you, Emory

  Bradford, enter the picture. In fact, the President, alarmed by what

  appears to be a conspiracy at State brings us all into the picture-and we

  in turn recruit a black-operations officer to mount the Costa Brava

  exercise. That exercise-that scene-is turned into murder, and at this

  juncture, it's your thesis that the mole lost sight of Parsifal."

  "Yes. Parsifal, whoever he is, got what he wanted from the mole, then

  dropped him. The mole is stunned, possibly frantic. He's undoubtedly made

  promises to Moscow-based on assurances from Parsifal-tbat projected a major

  setback for American foreign policy, conceivably its collapse."

  "Either," interjected the President in a quiet monotone, "would be a

  benevolent alternative."

  "And whoever has the information contained in Parsifal's documents will

  assume control of the Kremlin." Brooks remained rigid, his aristocratic

  face pale, drawn. "We're at war," he added softly.

  "I repeat," said Halyard. "Go after those seventy-five offices at State.

  Mount a sweep, call it a medical quarantine, it's simple but effective,

  even acceptable. Do it in the early evening after they've left work. Round

  them up in their homes, restaurants; pull them in and get them down'to your

  laboratories. Find your molel" The general's forceful rendering of the

  tatic impressed the civilians, who remained silent. Halyard lowered his

  voice. "I know it smells, but I don't think you've got a choice."

  "We!d need two hundred men posing as medical techni- THE PARSIFAL MOSAIC307

  clans and drivers," said Bradford. "Between thirty and forty government

  vehicles. No one knowing anything."

  "Wed also be dealing with families and neighbors and 'technicians' knocking

  on doors at night," countered Berquist.

  ChrW, that son of a bitchl That man for all seasonsl" The President stopped;

  he took a deep breath, then continued, "We!d never get away with it; the

  rumors would spread like a Mesabi brush fire in a dry July. The press would

  break it open and call us everything in the book, everything we deserve.

  Mass arrests without explanation-there's none we could give-interrogations

  without due process, storm troopers ... chemicals. We'd be crucified on

  every editorial page in the country, banged in effigy on every campus,

  denounced from every pulpit and soapbox, to say nothing ofthe acid from our

  legislative brethren. I'd be impeached."

  "More important, Mr. President," said the ambassador, Oand rm sorry to say

  I mean that, the action itself would undoubtedly throw Parsifal into panic.<
br />
  He'd see what we were doing, know whom we were trying to unearth in order

  to find him. He could carry out his threats, carry out the inconceivable."

  "Yes, I know. We're damned if we move, helpless if we don't."

  "It could work," persisted the general.

  "Handled correctly, it might, Mr. President," added Bradford.

  "For Gods sake, howr

  "Anyone who objected strenuously, to the point of refusal or evasion, would

  probably be our man," replied Bradford.

  . "Or someone with something else to hide," said Brooks gently. "We're in

  the age of anxiety, Mr. Undersecretary, and this is a city with a low

  threshold for privacy. You might very well comer a person who has nothing

  more to conceal than an unopened closet, or the loathing of a superior, an

  unpopular viewpoint, or an office affair. Parsifal will see only what his

  insanity compels him to see."

  Bradford listened, reluctantly accepting the statesman~s judgment. "There's

  another approach we haven't had time to implement. An itinerary check.

  Tracing the whereabouts of every person on that floor during the week of

  Costa Brava. if we re right-if I'm not wrong-he wasn't here. He was m

  Madrid, in Barcelona."

  308 ROBERT LUDLUM

  'He~d cover himself," objected Halyard.

  'Regardless, General, he'd have to account for being away from Washington.

  How many such absences can there be?"

  "When can you start?" asked Berquist.

  "First thing in the morning-2'

  "Why not tonight?' the general interrupted.

  "If those records were accessible, I could. They're not, and to call

  someone in to open them at this hour would cause talk. We can't afford

  that."

  "Even in the morning," said the ambassador, 'low can you suppress

  curiosity, keep it quiet?"

  Bradford paused before speaking, his eyes cast downward, seeking an answer.

  "Time study," he replied, looking up, the phrase bordering on a question.

  "I'll tell whoever controls those records that it's a routine time study.

  Someone's always doing something like that."

  "Acceptable," agreed Brooks. "Banal and acceptable."

  'Nothing's acceptable," said the President of the United States quietly,

  staring at the white wall, where an hour ago the faces of four dead men had

  been projected. "A man for all seasons,' they call him. The original was a