nailed to the wooden bench.
"Mikhair
The guard had recovered from Jenna's blows and was pulling the Ilama out of
his leather jacket. Michael sprang forward and jammed the heavy barrel of
the .45 into the
372 RoBERT LuDLum
man!s temple; reaching over his shoulder, he pressed down, holding the Llama
in place.
"Mr. Kohoutek? Have you got it?" yelled the voice through the radio static.
"What should the sparrow do? He wants to knowl"
"Tell him you've got it," ordered Havelock breathing hard, thumbing back
the hammer of the gun. "Say the sparrow should do nothing. Youll be in
touch."
"We've got it." The guard's voice was a whisper. "rell the sparrow not to
do anything. Well be in touch."
Michael yanked the microphone away and pointed to the Llama. "Now, just
hand it to me slowly," be said. "Use your fingers, just two fingers," he
continued. "After all, it's mine, Iset it?"
"I was going to give it back," said the frightened guard, his lips
trembling.
"How many years can you give back to the people you drove in this thing?"
'nat hasn't anything to do with me, I swear itl I just work for a living.
I do what rm told."
'You all do." Havelock took the Llama and moved the automatic around the
man's head, pressing it into the base of his skuR. "Now, drive us out of
here," he said.
22
The slender, middle-aged man with the straight dark hair opened the door of
the telephone booth at the comer of 116th Street and Riverside Drive. The
wet city snow was clinging to the glass, blurring the rotating red lights of
the police cars up the block. He inserted the coin, dialed o, then five
additional digits; he heard the second tone and dialed again. In moments a
private phone was ringing in the living quarters of the White House.
'YesP"
"Mr. President?'
"Emory? How did it go?"
"It didi*. He's dead. He was shot.'
The silence from Washington was interrupted only by the sound of Berquises
breathing. "Tell me what happened," said the President.
"It was Havelock, but the name wasn~t reported correctly. We can deny the
existence of any such person at State."
"HavelockP At ... ? Oh my Godl"
"I donI know all the details, but enough. The shuttle was delayed by the
snow and we circled LaGuardia for nearly an hour. By the time I got here
there were crowds, police cars, a few press and an ambulance."
'Me press?"
'Yes, sir. Handehnan~s promment: here. Not only because
873
374 RoBzRT LuDLum
he was a Jew who survived Bergen-Belsen, but because of his standing at the
university. He was respected, even revered.-
"Oh, Christ ... What did you learn? How did you learn it? Your name won't
surface, will it?"
"No, sir. I used my rank at State and-,reached the precinct up here; the
detective was cooperative. Apparently Handelman had an appointment with a
female graduate student, who came back to the building twice before ringing
the superintendent. They went up to Handelman~s apartment, saw the door was
unlocked, went inside, and found him. The saperfutendent called the police,
and when they got here, he admitted having let in a man who had State
Department cre~ dentials. He said his name was Havilitch; he didnI recall
the first name, but insisted the ID was in order. The police are still in
Handelman's apartment getting fingerprints, cloth and blood scrapings."
"Have the details been made public?"
"In this town they cajYt wait. It was all released twenty minutes ago.
There was no,way I could stop it, if I wanted to. But State doeset have to
clarify; we can deny."
The President was silent, then he spoke. "When the time is right, the
Department of State will cooperate fully with the authorities. Until then
I want a Me built-and circulated on a restricted basis-around Havelock's
activities since his separation from the government. it must reflect the
governmenes alarm over his mental state, his apparent homicidal tenden-
cies-his loyalty. However, in the interests of national security, that file
will remain under restricted classification. It will not be made public."
"fra not sure I understand."
'JChe facts will be revealed when Havelock Is no longer a threat to this
country's interests."
"Sir?"
"One man is insignificant," said the President softly. "Coventry, Mr.
Undersecretary. The Enigma... ParsifaL"
"I accept the reasoning, sir, not the assumption. How can we be sure we'll
find him?'
"Hell find us; hell find you. If everything weve learned about Havelock is
as accurate as we believe, he wouldn't have killed Jacob Handelman unless
he had an extraordinary reason. And he would never have killed him if he
hadet
. THE PARS17AL MOSAIC375
learned where Handelman sent the Karas woman. When he reaches her, hell know
about you."
Bradford paused, his breath visible, the vapor briefly interrupted. '-fes,
of course, Mr. President."
"Get back here as fast as you can. We have to be ready . you have to be
ready. III have two men flown up from ii;X's Island. They'll meet you at
National;- stay in airport security until they arrive."
"Yes, Sir."
"Now, listen to me, Emory. My instructions will be direct,
theBy presidential order you are to be
vprotection; your life is in their hands.
Yby a killer who's sold his government's
secrets to the enemy. Those will be the words I use; yours
will be different. You will use the language of Consular Op
erations: Havelock isbeyond salvage.' Every additional hour
he lives is a danger to our men in the field."
"I understand."
"Emoryr
"Sir?"
"Before all this happened I never really knew you, not personally," said
Berquist softly. 'Whats your situation at homer
"Homer
"Ies where he'll come for you. Are there children at home?"
"Children? No, no, there are no children. My older son~s in college, my
younger boy away at boarding school."
"I thought I heard somewhere that you had daughters."
"Two. Theyre with their mother. In Wisconsin."
"I see. I didn~t know. Is there another wife?"
"There were. Again, two. They didn7t last."
"Then there are no women living in your house?"
"There are frequently, but not at the minute. Very few during the past four
months."
"I see."
"I live alone. The circumstances are optirn=4 Mr. President."
"Yes, I guess they are."
Using the coiled ropes on the wall of the van, they tied the guard to the
steering wheel, Kohoutek to the bench.
376 RoBERT LuDLum
"Find whatever you can and bind his band," said Michael. "I want him alive.
I want someone to ask him questions."
jenna, found a fanners kerchief in the glove compartment She removed the
scaling knife from the old mountain buIrs huge hand, ripped the cloth in
two, and expertly bound t
he wound, stemming the blood at both the gash and
the wrist
"It will hold for three, perhaps four hours," she said. "After that, I doet
know. If he wakes and tears it, he could bleed to death.... Knowing what I
know, I have no use for prayers.
"Someonell find him. Them. This truck. It'll be light in an hour or so, and
the Fourforks Pike's a country route. Sit down for a minute." Havelock
started the engine and, reaching over the guard's leg, depressed the clutch
and shoved the truck in gear. Wrenching the man back and forth over the
steering wheel, he maneuvered the vehicle so that it was broadside across
the road. "Okay, let's get out."
"You caet leave me herel" whined the guard. "Jestar
"Have you been to the toilet?"
"What?"
"I hope so, for your sake
"Mikhajlr
"Yes?"
rhe radio. Someone might come along and free him. Hied use it. We need
every minute."
Havelock picked up the .45 from the seat and smashed the thick, blunt
handle repeatedly into the dials and switches until there was nothing but
shattered glass and plastic. Finally, he ripped the microphone out of its
receptacle, severing the
wires; he opened the door and turned to jenna. 'Well leave the lights on so
no one smashes into it," he said, stepping out and pulling the seat forward
for her. "One more thing to do. Come on."
Because of the wind, the Fourforks Pike had less than an inch of snow on
the surface except for the intermittent drifts that had been pummeled into
the bordering grass. Michael handed the A5 to jenna, and switched the LJama
to his right hand. "rhat makes too much noise," he continued. "The wind
might carry it down to the farmhouse. Stay here."
He ran to the back of the van and fired twice, blowing out both rear tires.
He raced up the other side and fired into the front tires. The truck rocked
back and forth as the tires de-
THE PA:asiFAL MosAic377
flated and settled into the road. To clear the highway, it could be driven
into the grass, but it would go no farther than that. He put the Llama into
his pocket.
"Let me have the forty-five," he said to jenna, pulling his shirt out of
his trousers.
She gave it to him. "What are you going to do?"
"Wipe it clean. Not that iell do much good, our prints are all over inside
the van. But they may not brush there; they will this."
.so?,,
"I'm gambling that our driver in his own self-interest will yell like hell
that it's not his, that it belongs to his employer, your host, Kohoutek."
"Ballistics," said jenna, nodding. "Killings on Me."
"Maybe something else. That farm win be torn apart, and when it is, they
may start digging around those acres. There could be killings not on file."
He held the automatic with his shirttail, opqned the door of the truck and
arced the weapon over the front seat into the covered van.
"Hey, come on, for Christ's sakel" shouted the driver, twisting and turning
against the ropes. "Let me out of here, will ya? I didn~t do nothing to
youl They'll send me back for ten yeard"
"They're a lot easier on people who turn state's evidence. Think about it."
Havelock slammed the door and walked rapidly back to jenna. "The cais about
a quarter of a mile down on the other side of Kohouteles road. Are you all
right?-
She looked at him; particles of snow stuck to her blond bair swirling in
the wind and her face was drenched, but her eyes were alive. "Yes, my
darling, I'm all right... Wherever we are at this moment, I'm home."
He took her hand and they started down the road. "Walk in the center so our
footsteps will be covered."
She sat close to him, touching him, her arm through his, her head
intermittently resting on his shoulder as he drove.
The words between them were few, the silences comforting; they were too
tired and too afraid to talk sensibly, at least for a while. They had been
there before; they knew a little peace would come with the quiet-and being
with each other.
378 ROBERT LuDLu-m
Remembering Kobouteles words, Havelock headed north to the Pennsylvania
Turnpike, then east toward Harrisburg. The old Moravian had been right; the
low-flying winds virtually swept the wide expanse of highway, and the
subfreezing temperature kept the snow dry and buoyant. Although the
visibility was poor, the traveling was fast.
"Is this the main auto route?" asked jenna.
"Ies the state turnpike, yes."
"Is it wise to be on itP If Koboutek's found before daybreak, might not men
be watching this 'turnpike' as they do the Bahnen and the drAa?"
"We're the last people on earth he wants the police to find. We know what
that farm is. He'll stall, use the intruder story, say he was the hostage,
the victim. And the guard won't say anything until he hasn't got a choice,
or until they find his record, and then he'll bargain. We're all right."
"That's the police, darling," said jenna, her band gently touching his
forearm. "Suppose it is not the police? You want it to be the police, so
you convince yourself. But suppose it is someone else? A farmer or a driver
of a milk truck. I think Kohoutek would pay a great deal of money to get
safely back to his home."
Michael looked at her in the dim light of the dashboard. Her eyes were
tired, with dark circles under them; fear was still in the center of her
stare. Yet in spite of the exhaustion and the dread, she was
thinking-better than he. But then she had been hunted far more often than
he, more recently than he. Above all, she would not panic; she knew the
value of control even when the pain and the fear were overwhelming. He
leaned over and brushed his lips on her face.
"You're magnificent," he said.
"rm frightened," she replied.
"And you're also right. There's a childish song that says 'wishing will
make it so.' It's a lie, and only for children, but I was counting on it,
hoping for it. The odds of the police finding Kohoutek, or a citizen
reporting what he found to the police, are no better than seventy-tbirty.
Against. We'll get off at the next exit and head south."
"To where? Where are we going?"
"First, where we can be alone, and not moving. Not running."
THE PARSIFAL MOSAIC379
She sat in a chair by the motel window, the early light spreading up and
over the Allegheny Mountains outside in the distance. The yellow rays
heightened the gold in the long blond hair that fell across her shoulders.
Alternately she would look at him, then turn her face away and close her
eyes; his words were too painful to hear in the light.
When he finished, he was still caught in the anguish that came with the
admission: he had been her executioner. He bad killed his love and there
had been no love left in him.
Jenna rose from the chair and stood silently by the window. "What did they
do to us?" she whispered.
Havelock stood across the room watching her; he could not look away. And
then he was drifting back through indeterminate time,
through the rolling
mists of a haunting, obsessive dream that never left him. The images were
there, the moments remembered, but they had been pushed out of his life
only to rise up and attack him, inflaming him whenever the memories refused
to stay buried. What's left when your memorVs gone, Mr. Smith? Nothing, of
course, yet bow often had he wished for oblivion, with no images or remem-
bered moments-trading nothingness for the absence of pain. But now be bad
passed through the nightmare of interrupted sleep and bad come to life,
just as the tears had come to Jennds eyes and washed away the hatred. But
the reality was fragile; its fragments had to be pieced together.
"We have to find out why," said Michael. "Broussac told me what happened to
you, but there were gaps I couldn't understand."
"I didn't tell her everything," said Jerma, gazing at the snow outside. "I
didiA lie to her, but I didn't tell her everything. I was afraid she
wouldn't help me."
"What did you leave out?"
"The name of the man who came to see me. He's been with your government for
a number of years. He was once quite controversial, but still respected, I
think. At least, I'd heard of him."
"Who was it?"
"A man named Bradford. Emory Bradford."
"Good God . . ." Havelock was stunned. Bradford was a name from the past,
a disquieting past. He bad been one of the political comets born under
Kennedy and winning dubious spurs with Johnson. When the comets had faded
from
380 ROBERT LuDLum
the Washington firmament, heading for the international banks and the
foundations, the prestigious law offices and the corporate boardrooms,
Bradford - had remained-less celebrated, to be sure, and less influential,
certainly-where the political wars had been fought. It was never understood
why. A degree of personal wealth aside, be could have done a thousand other
things, but be bad chosen not to. Bradford, thought Havelock, the name
echoing in his head. All these years, had Emory Bradford merely been marking
time, waiting for another version of Camelot to carry him into another time
of self-aggrandizing glory? It had to be. If be had reached jenna in
Barcelona, be was at the core of the deception at Costa Brava, a deception
that went far beyond himself and jerma, two lovers turned against each
Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt Page 48
