Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt

by The Parcifal Mosaic [lit]

  "Because that same morning I read in the Washington Post that Anton was

  prolonging a brief vacation and would not appear before the Senate Foreign

  Relations Committee. I kept thinking about the woman and what she'd said

  ... and the fact that Anton rarely gave up a chance to perform for the

  Senate newsreels. And then I thought, Why not? Like you, I know where be

  spends every free moment be has-"

  "The Shenandoah lodge:' interrupted Havelock, feeling a sense of d6ja vu.

  "Exactly. I reasoned that if the story was true and he was taking an extra

  few days, we might get together for some valley fishing or his beloved

  chess. Like you, again, I have the telephone number, so I called him."

  "He waset there," said Michael.

  "They didn't say that," corrected the journalist. "They said he couldn't

  come to the phone."

  "That phone?"

  "Yes ... that phone. It was the private line."

  "The one that goes unanswered unless he's there."

  'Yes." Alexander raised his brandy glass and drank.

  Havelock was close to screaming. He wanted to rush over to the portly

  writer and shake him: Go on! Go on, tell nwl Instead, he said quietly,

  "That must have been a shock."

  "Wouldn't it have been to you?"

  "Certainly." It was. Can't you see it in my eyes? "What did you do?"

  "The first thing was to call Zelienski. You remember old Leon, don't you?

  Whenever Matthias drove or flew out to the lodge it was standard procedure

  for Zelienski to be summoned for dinner-has been standard for years now."

  "Did you reach him?'

  "Yes, and he told me a very odd thing. He said be hadn't seen Anton in

  months, that Matthias never answered his calls anymore-not personally-and

  that he didn't think our great man had time for the valley these days."

  The d6ji vu was complete for Michael. Then be remembered. "You're a friend

  of Zelienski's, aren't you?"

  "Through Anton, mainly. Very much the way we met. He comes up now and then

  for lunch and chess. Never for dinner, though; be won't drive at night. But

  my point is that the

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  one place where Matthias should have been for a holiday he wasn't. I really

  can't imagine his not seeing old Leon, can you? After all, Zelienski lets

  him win."

  "I can't imagine your letting the issue drop, either."

  You're quite right, I di(Wt. I called Anton7s office and asked to

  speakwrith his first assistant. I emphasized that I expected someone who

  represented the Secretary of State in his absence, and I considered my

  inquiry to be that substantive. Of all people, guess who was put on to me."

  "Who?"

  "Emory Bradford. Do you remember him? Bradford the 'boomerang,' scourge of

  the warlords where once he'd been their spokesman. I was fascinated because

  actually I admire him for having had the courage to reverse himself, but I

  always thought Matthias detested the whole flock. If anything, he was more

  sympathetic to those who went down in flames because they didret change

  their minds."

  "What did Bradford tell you?" Michael gripped the glass in his hand,

  suddenly terrified that he might break it.

  "You mean, what did he tell me after I told him what I thought bad

  happened? Naturally, I never mentioned the woman and, God knows, it wasn't

  necessary. Bradford was in shock. He begged me not to say anything or write

  anything, that Matthias himself would be in touch with me. I agreed, and by

  midafternoon, I received Anton's note by messenger. rve abided by his

  request-until now. I can't for a minute believe he'd want you excluded."

  "I doet know what to say." Havelock lessened the pressure on the glass,

  breathing deeply, the moment to be interpreted in any way the journalist

  wished. But for Michael it was the prelude to the most important question

  he might ever have asked in his life. "Do you remember the name of the post

  where the wornaes husband was stationed? The one yoi;d never heard of

  before?"

  "Yes," said Alexander, studying Havelock. "But no one knows I know. Or my

  source."

  'Vill you tell me? No one will ever know my source, you have my word on

  it."

  "For what purpose, Michael?"

  Havelock paused, then smiled. "Send a basket of fruit probably. A letter,

  of course:'

  4WROBERT LUDLUM

  The journalist nodded his head, smiled and answered, -les a place called

  PooWs Island, somewhere off the coast Of Georgia."

  "Thank you."

  Alexander noted his empty glass. "Come now, were both out. Freshen yours

  and do mine while you're at it. That's also part of the rules, remember?"

  Michael got out of the chair, shaking his head, smiling still, despite the

  tension he felt. "Be happy to pour yours, but I really have to get going."

  He picked up the journalises glass. "I was expected in McLean an hour ago."

  "You're leaving?" exclaimed the old warhorse, his eyebrows arched, turning

  in the chair. "What about this piece of information from London you claimed

  would make up for some of the best meals you ever had, young man?"

  Havelock stood at the copper dry-bar, pouring brandy. "I was thinking about

  that as I drove out here," he said pensively. "I may have been impetuous."

  "Spoilsport," said Alexander, chuckling.

  "Well, ies up to you. It concerns a very complicated, deep-cover

  intelligence operation, which in my judgment will take us nowhere. Do you

  want to hear it?"

  "Stop there, dear boyl You've got the wrong scribbler, I wouldn't touch it.

  I subscribe to Anton~s maxim. Eighty percent of all intelligence is a chess

  game played by idiots for the benefit of paranoid moronsl"

  Michael climbed into the car, there was the faint odor of cigarettes.

  "You~ve been smoking," he said.

  "Feeling like a little boy in a graveyard," replied Jenna, curled up on the

  floor. "What about Bradford? Will your friend bring him out here?"

  Havelock started the engine, engaged the gear, and swung rapidly around the

  circular drive toward the entrance. "You can get up now."

  "What about Bradtord?"

  "Were going to let him sweat for a while, stretch him out..

  Jenna crawled up on the seat, staring at him. "What are you saying,

  Mikhail?"

  "We're gomg to drive all night, rest for a while in the

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  morning, then keep going. I want to get there late tomor-

  11

  row.

  "My God, where?"

  "A place called Poole's Island, wherever it is."

  24

  The island was off the coast, east of Savannah; flve years ago it had been

  a sparsely populated island of less than two square miles before it was

  taken over by the government for oceanic research. Several times a week,

  said the fishermen, helicopters from Hunter Air Force Base could he seen

  skimming above the water toward an unseen pad somewhere beyond the tall

  pines that bordered the rocky shoreline.

  They had reached Savannah by three-thirty in the afternoon and, by four,

  had found a nondescript motel on the ocean highway. At four-twenty they

  walked onto the pier of a c
ommercial marina across the way in time to watch

  a dozen or so fishing boats come in with the days catch. By a quarter past

  five they bad talked to various fishermen, and at five-thirty Havelock had

  a quiet conversation with the manager of the marina. By ten to six $200 had

  exchanged hands, and a fifteen-foot skiff with a twelve-horsepower outboard

  had been made available to him, with the hours at his discretion and the

  night watchman of the marina informed of the rental.

  They drove back along the highway to a shopping center in Fort Pulaski

  where Michael found a sporting-goods store and purchased the items he

  needed. These included a wool knit hat, tight sweater, chinos and thick,

  rubber-soled ankle boots-all blacL In addition to the clothes, he bought

  the fol-

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  lowing: a waterproof flashlight and an oilcloth packet, a hunting knife, and

  five packages of 72-inch rawhide shoelaces.

  "A sweater, a hat, a torch, a knife," Tenna, said rapidly, angrily. '-fou

  buy one of each. Buy two. I m going with you."

  "No, you~re not."

  "Do you forget Prague and Warsaw? Trieste or the Balkans?'

  "No, but you do. In each place-everywhere we wentthere was always a

  secondary we could fail back on, if only to buy time. Someone at an embassy

  or a consulate who was given the words that constituted a counterthreat."

  "We never used such people."

  "We were never caught." ,

  She looked at him, her eyes reluctantly accepting his logic, 'What words do

  I have?"

  "I'll write them out for you. Theres a stationery store across the mall. I

  want to get a yellow legal pad and carbon paper. Lefs go."

  jenna sat in an armchair next to the motel desk where Havelock wrote.

  Taking the carbon copies from him as he tore them off the yellow pad, she

  checked the blue impressions for legibility. He had filled up nine pages,

  each line in precise block letters, each item numbered, every detail

  specific, every name accurate. It was a compendium of selected top-secret

  intelligence operations and penetrations perpetrated by the United States

  government throughout Europe during the past eighteen months. It included

  sources, informants, deep-cover and double agents, as well as a list of

  diplomats and attach6s in three embassies who, in reality, were controls

  for the Central Intelligence Agency. On the tenth page he gave an account

  of Costa Brava naming Emory Bradford and the men he had spoken with who had

  confirmed evidence that could only have been obtained with the cooperation

  of the KGB, and of a VKR officer in Paris who admitted Soviet knowledge of

  the deception. On the eleventh page he wrote of the fatal meeting on the

  Palatine, and of an American intelligence officer who had died saving his

  life and, moments before his death, had exclaimed that there were lies

  being told by powerful men in Washington. On the twelfth he briefly

  described the events at Col des Moulinets and the order for his execution

  issued under the

  410 ROBERT LUDLUM

  code name Ambiguity. On the fliMeenth and last page he told the truth about

  a killer from Lidice who had called himself Jacob Handelman and the purpose

  of a farm in Mason Falls, Pennsylvania, which sold the services of slaves as

  efficiently as any camp that had provided labor for Albert Speer. The final

  line was concise: Secretary ot State Anthony Matthias is being held against

  his will at a governmem installation called Pooles Island in Georgia. -

  "There are your words," he said, handing Jenna the last page and getting up

  to stretch. His body ached; he had written furiously for nearly two hours.

  While Jenna read he lit a cigarette and walked to the window overlooking

  the highway and the ocean beyond. It was dark, the moon intermittently

  shining through a night sky streaked with clouds. The weather was fair, the

  seas normal; he hoped both would stay that way.

  "They're strong words, Mikhail," said Jenna, placing the last carbon on the

  desL

  "It's the truth."

  "Forgive me for not approving. You could cost the lives of many people,

  many friends, with this."

  "Not the last four pages. There~re no friends there ... except the Apache,

  and he's gone."

  "Then use only the last four pages," said Jenna.

  Havelock turned from the window. "No, I have to go all the way or not at

  an. There's no middle ground now; theyve got to believe I'll do it. More

  important, theyve got to believe yotill do it. If there's the slightest

  doubt, fm dead and you might as well be. The threat's got to be real, not

  hollow..

  "Yoxfre assuming you'll be caught."

  "If I find what I think rm going to find, I intend to be."

  "That's insanel" cried Jenna, quickly getting to her feet.

  "No, it isn~t. You're not usually wrong, but you are now. That island's the

  shortcut we~ve been looking for." He walked toward the chair where he had

  dropped the purchases from the sportiag-goods store. 7111 get dressed and

  well work out a telephone relay."

  "You mean this, donI you?"

  "I mean it."

  "Booths, then," she said reluctantly. "No call over twelve seoonds.,7

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  ~But only one number." Michael changed direction and went to the desk. He

  picked up a pencil, wrote on the pad, tore off the page and gave it to

  jenna. "Here it is; it's the Cons Op emergency reception. Dial direct-I'll.

  show you how-and have a pocketbook full of change."

  "I have no pocketbook."

  "And no money, and no clothes," added Havelock, taking her by the

  shoulders, pulling her to him. "Remedy that, will you? It'll take your mind

  off things for a while; Go shopping."

  "You're mad."

  "No, I mean ft. You woet have much time, but most of the stores in that

  shopping center stay open until ten-thirty. Then there's a bowling alley,

  a couple of restaurants, and an all-night supermarket."

  "I don't believe you," she exclaimed, pulling her face back and looking at

  him.

  "Believe," he said. "It's safer than telephone booths on the highway." He

  glanced at his watch. "It's ten of nine now, and PooWs Islan4 is only a

  mile and a half offshore. It shouldn't take me more than twenty minutes to

  reach it-say, by ten. At eleven I want you to start calling that number and

  say the words 'billiards or pool.' Got itF'

  "Certainly. 'Billiards or pool.'"

  "Good. If you don't get an immediate response, hang up and get to another

  phone. Call every fifteen minutes."

  "You say a response. What will it be?"

  Havelock frowned. "We prefer pool:

  "'We prefer pool.' Then what?"

  "A last call, again fifteen minutes later. Someone else other than the

  operator will be patched into the emergency line. He woet use a name but

  hell give the response. The second he does, read him the first two lines on

  the first page. I'll take the carbons with me so the words match. Do it

  fast and hang up."

  "And then the waiting begins," said jenna, holding him, her cheek against

  his. "Now, our immovable prison."<
br />
  "Very immovable-stationary, in fact. Pick up food at the supermarket and

  stay here. Don~t go out. rll reach you."

  "How long will it be, do you think?"

  Havelock F_ntly pulled his cheek away from hers and

  412 ROBERT LUDLUM

  looked at her. "It could be as long as a day, two days. I hope not, but it

  may be."

  "And if . . ." Jenna could not flnish the sentence, and tears came to her

  eyes, her face drawn.

  "After three days call Alexander in Fox Hollow and tell him I've been

  killed or taken, that Anton Matthias is being held prisoner. Say yoxfve got

  the proof in my own handwriting, plus my voice on the tape I made at

  Salanne's house in Cagnes-sur-Mer. Under the circumstances, he can't walk

  away from you. He won't. His beloved republic is being poisoned." Michael

  paused. "Just the last four pages," he said quietly. "Bum the first nine.

  You're right, they don1 deserve to die."

  Jenna closed her eyes. "I cannot promise you that," she said. "I love you

  so. If I lose you, none of them matters. None.-

  The water was choppy, as it often was when coastal currents were interrupted

  by sudden offshore land masses. He was about a quarter of a mile from the

  island's rocky coastline, approaching from the leeward side, the wind

  carrying the minimal sound of the engine out to sea. He would cut if off

  soon and use the oars, rowing forward toward the darkest section of the

  surrounding pines, guided by the soft glow of light beyond the treetops.

  He had made his own separate arrangements with the marina's night watchman,

  tenuous arrangements any experienced field man would attempt to make if he

  hired a boat with the possibility that he might have to abandon it. One

  never gave up means of escape unless it was absolutely necessary, but one

  obscured those means as best one could, if only to buy time; five minutes

  of confusion was often the difference between capture and escape. So far,

  however, the trip had been clean. He would propel the skiff into the

  blackest inlet and beach it.

  Now was the moment. He pushed in the throttle; the engine coughed quietly

  and died. He jumped to the mid-seat, body forward, and lifted the oars into

  their locks. The outgoing current was stronger than he had expected; he

  pressed against the seaward tide, hoping it would alter before his arms and