Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt

by The Parcifal Mosaic [lit]

  rims of steel, the rigid posture of the soft body ... the walk. Not the

  measured gait of a high prelate of the church or of a medletW baron

  entering a great hall ... but the strutting of a man in uniform. A black

  uniform!

  Sheets of lightning filled Havelocks eyes. His mind exploded ... then and

  now, now and therd Not eight or ten years ago but the early years, the

  terrible yearsi He was one

  332 RoBERT LuDLum

  of theyni The images of his memory confirmed it; he saw the man in front of

  him now as he was then. The large facewithout a beard, the hair straight and

  long, not white but Aryan yeUow. Walking . . . drutting ... down to rows of

  ditches. Machine-gun fire. Screana.

  Lidicel

  As if in a trance, Michael started toward the halfway man, his hands taut

  and hard, his fingers curving into claws, tensed for combat with another

  animal-a. lower form of animal.

  "Vos?" Handelman drew out the sibilant s in his highpitched whine. 'Vhat is

  the matter with you? Are you crazy, perhaps? Look at you . . . are you

  sick? Stay away from mel"

  "The Rabbi ... ? Oh, Chds% you son of a bitchl You incredible son ot a

  bitchl What were you-Standartenfahrer? Sturnibanntilhrer? ... No, it was

  Obergruppenfflhrerl it was youl Wicer

  The old man~s eyes widened, magnified by the thick lenses, they looked

  monstrous. "You are mad, completely, utterly nwdl Leave my housel You are

  not welcome here. With the pain rve suffered, I will not listen to the

  ravings of a madmanl"

  The intense singsong chant of the words covered the halfway man!s movement.

  His right hand slipped down to the desk, to the clutter of papers. Havelock

  lunged as a gun emerged *in Handelmaifs hand, placed there minutes ago by

  an Obergruppenf6hrer who could never afford to forget his origins. The

  halfway man was a killer of Czechs and Poles and Jews, a man who had taken

  the identity of a ragged inmate he had sent into a shower of gas or a cave

  of fire.

  Havelock grabbed the hand with the gun, jamming his third finger behind the

  trigger, slamming it repeatedly against the edge of the desk. It would not

  come loosel The halfway man was arched beneath him, pinning his right arm,

  the face grotesque, the mouth stretched like a rabid dog7s, the soft body

  suddenly hard, writhing in spasms. Handelman's left hand surged up and

  clapped Michaers face, the fingers digging into his eyes.

  Havelock twisted violently back and forth, and the halfway man slipped out

  from under him. They were at the edge

  THE PARSIFAL MOSAIC333

  of the desk, immobilized by each othees arms bent to the breaking point.

  Suddenly Michael freed his right band; he clenched it into a fist and

  brought it crashing down like a hammer into where he could see the blur of

  Handelmares face.

  The steel-rimmed glasses shattered. The German screamed, and the gun

  clattered to the floor as he brought both his hands to his face.

  Havelock leaped backward, yanking the German to his feet, and clamped his

  hand across the ugly mouth. Havelock's eyes burned, and tears and specks of

  blood clouded his vision. But he could see; the Na2i could not.

  "You raise your voice, old man, Ill kill you the instant you do. Now, sit

  downl"

  He pulled the German away from the desk and pushed him into the nearest

  chair with such force that the halfway man!s neck snapped back. The

  shattered glasses, however, remained secure on Handelman!s face; they were

  a'part of that face, part of the ugliness.

  "You have blinded mel" whined the soldier from Lidice. "A madman comes into

  my house--!'

  "Forget ftl" said Michael. "I was therel"

  "Madnessl" Gasping, Handelman raised his hands to remove his glasses.

  "Leave them alonel" ordered Havelock. "Let them stay right where they are."

  "Young man, you are--"

  "Don!t talkl Listen. I can put out a trace on a man named Jacob Handelman,

  going back fifty years. Everything about him-old pictures, Germans AM alive

  who knew him, if he ever existed. Then circulate a photograph of you, minus

  the beard, of course, in certain sections of Prague. You were there; I saw

  you later and wanted to kill you. A boy of nine or ten wanted to put a

  knife in your back in the street. And someone still living in Prague or

  Rudna or Madno would want to do the same even now. That's the bottom line,

  you bastard! So don7t talk to me about people who weren't here last night,

  tell me about the one who was. Where is she?'"

  "I am a very valuable man-"

  "M bet you are. Who'd know more about finding safe territories than someone

  who did it so well. And who could pro-

  334 ROBERT LunLum

  tect himself better than someone who could expose the whereabouts of so

  many. Yoeve covered yourself, M6rder. But not with me~ do you understand

  that? Because I dodt care. Now, where is fen-na Karas?"

  "While not addressing myself to the preposterous accusations you make,"

  whined the German, "there are considerations of exchange."

  'You have your life," said Havelock. "rm, not interested in it. It's enough

  that you know rm out there and can end it anytime I like. Thaes your

  exchange. Where is she?"

  'Me top drawer of the desk." The halfway -man gestured with his trembling

  hand, his eyes unseeing behind the shattered glasses. "Lift up the pencil

  rack. There's a folded green paper."

  Michael went tD the desk, opened the drawer, and pulled out the concave

  receptacle for pens and pencils. There was the light green paper; he picked

  it up and unfolded it. It was a page of memorandum stationery from the

  Columbia University Graduate Faculty of Philosophy. In precise, handwritten

  block letters was the information Havelock would have killed for, it was

  everything.

  BROUSSAC. APPLICANT FOR DOCTORAL CANDIDATZ

  NAME: ARVIDAS COFMCU. C/O KOHOUTEX

  ELM 3, MASON FALLS, PENNA.

  "Is Corescu the name she's using?" asked Havelock sharply. "Temporarily. The

  papers are only temporary; they had to be manufactured in a few hours.

  Others will follow . . . if they are to follow."

  "Which means?"

  "They must be paid for. Nothing Is for nothing."

  "Naturally; the hooies sunk in and the line keeps reeling out. You must

  have some very impressive fish out there."

  "You could say I have powerful-friends. In many places.'

  "Who's this KohoutekF'

  "A Slav," said the halfway man, shrugging derisively. "He has farm lan&"

  "Men did she leave?"

  "She was picked up this mornfng~*

  THE PARSIFAL MOSAIC335

  "Whaes her cover?"

  "Another destitute refugee a niece, perhaps-gotten out of the Balkans, or

  wherever. Away from the Bear, as they say. Kohoutek will get her work; he

  has friends in the textile unions."

  "From which she pays him and you, or the papers doet follow."

  "One needs papers," whined Handelman, "to drive a car, or use a bank-2'

  Or to be left alone by immigration.- interrupted Michael. 'That threat's

  always there, iset it?"

  "We are a nation of laws, sir."
/>   ~You make me sick," said Havelock approaching the chair, looking down at

  the animal from Lidice. "I could kill you now, feeling nothing but joy," he

  added quietly. "Can you understand that, philosopher? But I won't, because

  I want you to know what its like to realize it can happen any moment, any

  day, any night. With a knock on your door. You live with that, du alles

  Luder. Heil Hitler."

  He turned and started for the door.

  There was a sharp sound, as of something cracking, behind him. He spun

  around to see the long blade of a knife streaking toward him directly at

  his chest. The halfway man had torn the shattered glasses off his face and

  seized the weapon concealed in the overstuffed chair; the musty smell of

  Academe was suddenly the putrid odor of a no-man~s-land in a faraway

  battlefield. Havelock jumped bad~ but not before the blade had ripped

  through the jacket of the suit, the razor-sharp, edge slitting his flesh

  and marking his white shirt with a line of blood.

  His right hand whipped under his coat for the Llama automatic. He kicked

  wildly in front of him, hoping to make contact with any part of the Germaes

  body. As the blade came arcing back he spun away from its trajectory and

  raised his gun, aiming at the face.

  He fired twice; the halfway man fell to the floor, his head soaked in

  blood, one eye blown away.

  A gun had stilled another gun from Lidice. But there was no joy-, it had

  ceased to matter.

  There was only Jenna. He had found herl She could not

  336 ROBERT LunLum

  stop him from reaching her now. She might kill him, but first she would

  have to look into his eyes. That did matter.

  He shoved the Llama into his belt, the page of green paper into his

  pocket, and raced out of the apartment.

  20

  'Me namds Broussac, Mr. President," said Emory Bradford Into the phone at

  his desk in the State Department. "Madame Wgine Broussac. The Quai d'Orsay,

  Foreign Ministry, Section Four. She contacted the embassy the night before

  last, instructing a radio-car unit to be in the vicinity of Argenteuil for

  the purpose of picking up a former American intelligence officer who was to

  meet her there. Under highly unorthodox circumstances, she said."

  "Havelock?"

  OShe's admitted that much, yes."

  "Andr

  'The car drove up and down the streets of Argenteuil all night. It was

  never contacted."

  "What did this Broussac say? I assume she's been questioned.-

  'Angrily. She claims he never showed up."

  "WelIP"

  "Our people think she!s lying."

  OWhy?"

  'One of our men went around to her flat and asked some questions. He

  learned that she returned home by one o'clock in the morning. If that was

  the case-and apparently it was; two neighbors conlirmed it-why didn't she

  phone the embassy and call off the car?-

  837

  338 Rom= LuDLTim

  "Has she been asked about thisP"

  "No, sir. Our people are waiting for Instructions. les not customary for

  embassy personnel to go around asking questions surreptitiously about

  officials of the Quai d'Orsay."

  Charles Berquist paused, then spoke firmly. "Have Ambassador Richardson

  call Madame Broussac and respectfully request that she accept an invitation

  to come to the embassy as soon as ies convenient, preferably within the

  hour. A limousine will be sent for her, of course. The President of the

  United States wishes to speak with her on a confidential basis."

  "Mr. Preddent-2'

  "Just do as I say, Mr. Undersecretary."

  `Yles, sir."

  "And, Emory?"

  "Sirr

  "Homes the other task comhigP The seventy-odd diplomats who may have been

  out of town during the Spanish problemr

  Bradford paused before answering. When he spoke, it was apparent he was

  trying to control his voice. "As of this moment, five are missing."

  "Wh&?o

  "I didn't want to say anything until noon, until I have all the

  information, but the last report indicates that nineteen personnel were off

  the premises. Fourteen are accounted for, five aredt."

  "Get itl Get aU your informationt"

  "rm trying."

  "By noonl Get itl*

  The cold rain of the night before had lingered with diminishIng strength,

  and the sky outside the Oval Office was dark. A drop of only a degree or two

  in temperature and there would be thiii, erratic patches of snow on the

  VVInte House lawn. Berquist stood by the window, briefly wondering how deep

  the drifts were in Mountain Iron, Minnesota. And how he wished to Christ he

  were back there now. There was a buzzing from his telephone console. He

  glanced at his watch as he walked to the desk, it was eleven-fifteen.

  "Yes?"

  Your call from Paris, sir~- Tim PAmiFAL Mosmc 339

  -Jrhank you." Berquist pushed the appropriate red button. "Madame

  Broussac?"

  Oui, Monsieur le Prisident. It is an honor, sir. I am flattered to have

  been summoned to speak with you." The old woman~s voice was strong, but not

  without astonishment. And a measure of fear.

  "And rm most grateful, madame. As I instructed, are we alone?"

  "Yes, Monsieur le Pr6sident. Ambassador Richardson most courteously

  permitted me the use of his office. Quite honestly, I am, as you might say,

  bewildered."

  "You have the word of the President of the United States that we are alone,

  Madame Broussac. There is no interference on this telephone, no third

  parties or mechanical devices to record our conversation. Will you accept

  that word?"

  "Assuredly. Why would such an august figure deceive a mere functionary of,

  the Qua! d'Orsay?"

  "For a lot of reasons. But I'm not."

  Mais oui. Then I am convinced."

  "Good. I need your cooperation in a matter of the utmost importance and

  delicacy. It in no way affects the government of France, but any help you

  might give us could only be in its ultErnate interests. Again, you have my

  word on it, the word of this office."

  "It is sufficient, Monsieur le Pr6sident."

  "It's imperative we reach a retired foreign service officer recently

  separated from the Department of State. His name is Michael Havelock."

  "S'il vous plaft. Monsieur le-.-r

  "No, please," interrupted Berquist. "Let me finish. This office has too

  many staggering concerns to be involved with the work you do, or with the

  activities Mr. Havelock was engaged in. I only ask you to help us locate

  him. A destination, a routing, a name he might be using. Whatever you tell

  me will be held in the strictest confidence; no detail will be compromised,

  or ever used against you or your operations. I promise you that."

  "Monsieur-'"

  '%astly," continued the Presiden% overriding her voice, "no matter what he

  may have told you, his government has never meant him harm. We have too

  much respect for his service record, too much gratitude for his

  contributions. The tragedy

  340 RoBFRT LuDLum

  he thinks is his alone is all of ours, and that Is all I can tell you, but

  I
hope you consider the source-the office from which it comes. Will you help

  us, help me, Madame Broussac?"

  Berquist could hear the breathing over the line from Paris, as well as the

  pounding tattoo in his own chest. He looked out the window; fine flecks of

  white were intermingling with the mottled drizzle. The virgin drifts in the

  fields of Mountain Iron were the most beautiful at sundown; one caressed

  them with the eyes, touched the colors from a distance, never wanting them

  to change.

  "As you are trying to find him," began Broussac, "he is looking for someone

  else."

  "We know that. We've been looking for her too. To save her life. To save

  his." The President closed his eyes; it was a lie he would remember back in

  the hills of the Mesabi country. But then, he would remember, too,

  Churchill and Coventry. Enigma ... Costa Brava.

  There is a man in New York."

  "New York?" Berquist sat forward, startled. "He!s here? She's-?"

  "It surprises you, Monsieur le Fr6sident?"

  'Very much."

  "It was intended to. It was I who sent her. Sent him.*

  "This man in New York?"

  "He must be approached with a great deal of-as you mentioned-delicacy. He

  cannot be compromised. You have the same such people in Europe; we all need

  them, Monsieur le Pr6sident. Even when we know of those who belong to

  other--companies, we leave them alone."

  "I understand perfectly." Berquist did; the warning was clear. "This man

  can tell us where he is?"

  "He can tell you where she is. That's what you need to know. But he must be

  convinced he is not compromised."

  "n send only one man and only he will know. My word."

  "Je le respecte. I must tell you, I do not know him, except through his

  dossier. He is a great man with much compassion, a survivor, monsieur. In

  April of 1945, he was taken out of the Bergen-Belsen camp in Germany."

  "He will be accorded all the respect this office can summon, as well as the

  confidentiality I promised you. His name, please.*

  THF PARsiFAL Mo&uc341

  "Jacob Handelman. Columbia University."

  Ile three men listened intently as Emory Bradford slowly, methodically

  delivered his findings in the strategy room in the underground complex of

  the VY12ite House. Speaking in a deliberate monotone, he described the