confirmed whereabouts of all nineteen State Department personnel from the
fifth floor, L Section, who were not in Washington during the week of Costa
Brava. When he finished, each man~s expression conveyed both pain and
frustration, none more so than the Presidenes. He leaned forward on the
dais, his heavy Scandinavian face wom and lined, his intelligent eyes angry.
"You were so sure this morning," he said. "You told me five were missing,
five not accounted for. What happened?"
"I was wrong, Mr. President."
"Goddamn it, I didet want to hear that."
"Neither did King Richard when news reached him. that Richmond had landed~"
said Addison Brooks, quietly. "He struck down the messenger."
Berquist turned to his ambassador, studying him before replying, "Richard
the Third had already received two messages he considered hes. He could
have been testing the latest."
Brooks shook his head, admiration in his eyes. "You constantly amaze me,
Mr. President."
"I shouldn't. You worked for Truman. He knew more about history than all
the Commagers and Schlesingers put together. Ive done some reading myself,
and this is a waste of time." Berquist turned back to the undersecretary of
State. "Who were the five?"
"The woman who was having surgery. It was an abortion. Her husband's a
lawyer and has been in protracted litigation at The Hague for several
months. They've been apart. The picture was pretty clear."
"How could you even consider a woman?" demanded Halyard. "No double
standard implied, but a woman would leave her mark somewhere."
"Not if she-through Moscow-controlled men. Actually, I was quite excited
when her name surfaced. I thought, Good Cod, ies perfect. It wasn7t."
RoBERT LuDLum
"Keep it surgery, and tell that to wbomever you spoke with. Who were the
others?"
"The two attach6s at our embassy in Mexico. They'd been recalled for
cbange-of-policy briefings, then didn~t return to Mexico City until January
fifth."
"ExplanationF' asked the President.
"Furlough time. They went their separate ways and their families joined
them. One to a ski lodge in Vermont, the other to the Caribbean.
Credit-card charges confirmed everything.
"Who else?" pressed Berquist.
"Arthur Pierce."
"Pierce?" interrupted the general, startled. "The fellow at the U.N. nowF'
"Yes, General."
'I could have straightened you out there. So could have Addison here."
"So would Matthias," agreed Bradford. "If there was anyone at State who
maintained clear access to Matthias for a longer period of time, I don~t
know who it is. He appointed Pierce to the U.N. with the obvious intention
of submitting him for the ambassadorship."
"If youll permit me the correction," said Berquist, "I appointed him after
Matthias gave him to us and then took him away. He worked over here with
the NSC for a couple of months last year before the great man said he was
needed in New York."
"And he was one fellow I told the Pentagon to bribe the hell out of,"
exclaimed the general. "I wanted to keep him in the army; he was too good
to lose. He didn't like that mess in Southeast Asia any more than I did,
but his record was as good as mine.... Let's face it; it was a damn sight
better."
The ambassador leaned back in his chair. "I know Pierce. He was brought to
my attention by an old-line career foreign officer. I suppose I was as
responsible as anyone for bringing him into the State Department. Knowing
what I do, Iowa farm boy, rather humble beginnings, I believe, and then a
brilliant academic record, everything on scholarship. He was one of the few
in this day and age who really went from rags to riches. Well, influential
if not literally rich, but he could have been. A dozen or so of the
countrys largest corporations were after him, not to mention Rand and the
Brookings
THE PARsiiFAL MosAic343
Institution. I was persuasive and quite practical. Patriotism aside, I
pointed out that a tour of duty with the Department of State could only
enhance his value in the marketplace. Of course, hes still a relatively
young man; with his accomplishments, if he leaves government, he'll be able
to name his own price anywhere. He's cornstalk American success storyhow
could you possibly conceive of a Moscow connection?"
"I didn't preconceive anything, especially not in this case," said
Bradford. "Arthur Pierce is a friend-and I don't have many. I - consider
him one of the best men we have at State. But in spite of our friendship,
I went by the reports given me. Only me, incidentally. Not to my secretary
or any assistant. Only to me."
"What did you get that made you think Pierce could possibly have anything
to do with Soviet intelligence? Christ, he's mother, God, apple pie and the
flag."
"An error in the U.N. message logs. The initial report showed that during
the last days of December and the first three days of January-the week of
Costa Brava-Pierce hadn!t responded to four separate queries from the
Middle East Section. Then, of course, they showed up-four replies that
could be entered in a diplomatic analyses handbook. They were as
penetrating as anything I've read on that area and dovetailed with the
specific proceedings in the Security Council. As a matter of fact, they
were used to block a particularly aggressive Soviet proposal."
"The error in the logs was the explanation?" said Brooks.
'Maes the maddening thing. There's always an explanation, then a
confirmation of an explanation. Message traffic's so heavy, twenty percent
of it gets misplaced. Pierc&s responses had been there all along."
"Who's the last man?" Berquist was not going to let up. From his eyes it
was apparent he could not readily accept the altered findings.
"One I was so convinced might be the mole that I nearly had a VVI-iite
House Secret Service detail pick him up. Thank God I di(Wt; he's volatile,
a screamer."
"Who?"
"Nikolai Sit3inarin. Bom and raised in Leningrad, parents dissident
immigrants over a dozen years ago. He's the State Departmenes: most
accomplished analyst of Soviet internal affairs, j3roven accurate about
seventy percent. Hes a prize,
3"RoBEIRT LuDLum
and in his case I thought, What, better way for Moscow to put a mole into
the ground? An eighteen-year-old son of immigrants, dissidents permitted a
family visa when.they were damned hard to come by."
"Is Sitmarin Jewishr asked the general.
"No, but I expect most people think be is; in my view it added to his
cover. Soviet dissidence isn't the exclusive province of Russian Jews,
although that seems to be the general impression. Also, he's received a
fair amount of media exposure-the thirty-year-old Wunderkind carrying out
a personal vendetta. It all seemed so logically convoluted, so right."
"What were the circumstances?" The President's words were clipped.
"Again, an unexplained absence. He was gone from his office from
mid-Christmas week until January eighth. H
e just wasn!t in Washington and
no assignment was listed for his not being here. I had a time-stat man call
the section head; the explanation was given."
"VVIhich was?" pressed Berquist.
"A personal leave was granted. Sitmarin7s mother was gravely ill in
Chicago."
"Pretty damned convenient illness, wasn't it?"
"So much so she nearly died. The Cook County General Hospital confirmed
it."
"But she didnt die," interrupted Brooks.
'I spoke personally to the physician of record and he had a very clear idea
of the gravity of my inquiry. He quoted from his files."
"Have them sent to you," ordered the President. "There are too damned many
explanations; one of them's a he."
"I agree, but which one?" added Bradford. "Not just these five, but the
entire nineteen. Someone who thinks he's-or she~s-doing a superior a
harmless favor is concealing Ambiguity from us, hiding the mole. What7s
going down as a few extra days' skiing or going to the Caribbean or
shacking up-excuse me.
"Oh, for Christ's sake. Go back and tear into every explanation given you.
Find one that won't hold up."
"One that has a discrepancy in it," added the ambassador. "Meetings that
didn't take place, a conference that was postpoued, credit-card charges
where the signatures are question-
Tim PAnsl7AL MosAic345
able-a gravely ill woman who just may have been given an assumed name."
"ItIl take time," said the undersecretary.
"You've accomplished a great deal in something over twelve hours,"
continued Brooks sympathetically. "Again, I commend you."
'And you have the authority of this office to get you what you need,
anything you need. Use itl Find the molel" Berquist shook his head In
exasperation. "He and we are in a race after a madman we call Parsifal. If
the Soviets reach him first, this country has no viable foreign policy. And
if Parsifal panics, it won't make a damn bit of difference." The President
put his bands on the dais. "Is there anything else? I'm keeping two curious
senators waiting and it's no time to do it. They're on the Foreign
Relations Committee and I've a gut feeling theVve got wind of Matthias."
Berquist stopped; he got up and looked at Bradford. "Reassure me again-that
emT man at Poole's Island is secure."
"Yes, sir. Each was screened down to his fingernails, and no one leaves
that island for the duration."
"That, too, will ran its conrse," said Brooks. "What is the duration? Ies
an unnatural condition."
"These are unnatural circumstances," broke in General Halyard. "The patrols
are armed, the place a fortress."
"Armed?" The President spoke softly, in his own personal anguish. "Of
course, theVre armed. Insanel"
"What about Havelockr asked the statesman. "Has there been anything?-
"No," replied the commander in chief, leaving the dais and heading for the
door. "Call me later, Mr. Undersecretary," he said without explanation.
"Call me at three o'clock."
The snow, though not heavy, was a whipping snow. It careened off the
windshield, tiny white flakes targeting into the glass and bouncing silently
away like thousands of miniature asteroids passing through galactic space.
Havelock, in his rented car, had driven past the sign several minutes be-
fore, the letters reflected in the headlights: mAsoN FAIM 3
bMES.
He bad checked out of the King's Arms Hotel, relieved to see a different
clerk on duty, and had taken a cab to LaGuardia'Airport. A hastily
purchased map pinpointed Mason
346 RoBERT LuDLum
Falls, Pennsylvania; his only choice was a domestic flight to Pittsburgh. He
was not at the time concerned with further Soviet surveillance. The Russian
he had trapped had undoubtedly reported his arrival, but even if he had not,
LaGuardia was not an international terminal. No diplomatic personnel came
through its gates on overseas flights.
He had been issued a last-moment seat on US Air's 7:56 P.m. plane, reached
Pittsburgh by nine-fifteen, and rented a car, the signed credit Shp
permitting him to drop it off at any Hertz location. By nine-forty-five he
was driving - south through the long stretches of dark countryside on Route
51.
"ON ]FALLS
ESTABLISIBED 1858
Through the swirling pockets of snow-thicker now, fuller-Michael could see
the glow of a red neon sign up ahead on the right. He approached, slowing
down, and read the letters; a touch of the absurd had intruded: EiAmRy's
BAn. Either someone along the banks of the Monongahela had a sense of
humor, or there was a man named Harry who did not know how far away he was
from Venice or Paris. Or perhaps he did.
He obviously did. Inside, there were enlarged World War II photographs on
the walls depicting Parisian scenes, several showing a soldier standing
outside the door of Paris's HarrYs Bar on the Right Bank. The place was
rustic-thick wood dulled by use and totally untouched by furniture Polish-
heavy glasses and high-backed barstools. A jukebox in the comer was
bleating out country music to the bored halfdozen or so patrons at the bar.
They were in keeping with their surroundings: everyone male, a profusion of
red-checkered flannel shirts, wide-ribbed corduroy trousers and anklelength
boots wom in the fields and in barns. These were farmers and farmhands; he
might have assumed as much from the pickup trucks outside, but the biting
wind had distracted him-that and the fact that he was in Mason Falls,
Pennsylvania.
He looked around for a wall telephone; it was inapproPriately placed six
feet from the jukebox. That did not concern him, but the absence of a
telephone book did; he needed an address. There. had been no time at
LaGuardia to find the
THE PAmwAL Mosmc 347
correct book for Mason Falls, and as Pittsburgh was ptn international
airport, he wanted to get out of the terminal as fast as possible. He walked
to the bar, stood between two empty stools, and waited for an aging,
morose-looking Harry to serve him.
Yeah, what'll it be?-
"Scotch on the rocks, and a telephone book, if you've got one, please."
The owner studied Havelock briefly. "I don1 get much call for Scotch. it
aiet the best."
"I probably wouldidt know the best."
"Ies your throat." Harry reached under the bar to his right, but Instead of
coming up with a glass and ice, he put a thin telephone book in front of
Michael. He then walked to his left, to a row of bottles on a lighted
shelf.
Havelock leafed through the pages rapidly, his index finger descending the
row of ICs.
Kohoutek Janos RFD 3 Box 12
Goddamn itl
Rural Free Delivery, routing number 3, could be anywhere in Mason Falls,
which, although small in population, was large in square mileage. Acres and
acres of farmland, winding roads that threaded through the countryside. And
to call the number was to give an alarm; if there were special words, be
did not know them, and all things considered, there undoubtedly were
/>
special words. To mention Jacob Handelman over the phone was asking for a
confirmation call to be made to New York. There would be no answer on the
dead halfway maes phone until he was found, possibly in the morning,
possibly not for several days.
"Here yare," said Harry, placing the drink on the bar.
"Would you know a man named Koboutekr asked Havelock softly. "Janos
Kohoutek?"
The owner squinted in minor thought. "Know the name, not him, though. Hes
one of them foreigners with some land over in the west end."
"Would you know where in the west endF'
"No. Doesn't it tell you thereF' Harry gestured at the telephone book.
"It only gives an RFD and a box number."
"Call him, for Chrises sake."
348 ROBERT LUDLUM
"rd rather not. As you say, hes a foreigner; he might not understand over
the phone."
"Heyl" yelled Harry over the sounds of the country music. "Any you assholes
know a guy named Kohoutek?"
"Foreigner," said one red-checkered flannel shirt.
"He~s got more'n forty acres over west,' added a hunting cap farther down.
"Fuckin' refugees with their government handouts can afford it. We can~t."
"Would you know where?" asked Havelock.
"Ies either on Chamberlain or Youngfield, maybe Fourforks, I donI know
which. Don't it say in the book?"
"No, just RFD-three, that's all. And a box number."
"Route three," said another patron, this one with a growth of beard and
bleary eyes. "Thaes Davey Hooker's route. He's a carrier, and that son of
a bitch soaks 'em. Got the job through his uncle, the fuckin' grafter."
'Would you know where the route is?"
"Sure. Fourforks Pike. Heads due west from the depot a mile down
Fifty-one."
"Thanks very much." Michael raised the glass to his lips and drar& It was
not very good; it was not even Scotch. He reached into his pocket, pulled
out his money, and left two dollars on the bar. "Thanks again," he said to
the owner.
"Ies sixty cents," said Harry.
"For old times' sake," replied Havelock. "For the other place in Paris."
"Hey, you been there?"
"Once or twice."
'You shoulda told mel You woulda gotten decent whiskyl Let me tell you, in
'45 me and-"
Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt Page 44
