Robert Ludlum - The Parcifal Mosaic.txt

by The Parcifal Mosaic [lit]

  There was a stunned silence over the line; then Berquist whispered simply,

  "I know you wouldn~t he."

  "I would, but not about this."

  'What you think I have to know?' said Berquist, finding a part of his

  voice.

  "Yes. 0 leave out nothing that!s essential to you, for that impossible job

  you're in."

  "Where are you? ru send an army for you-just get those documents here."

  "No, Mr. President We have a last stop to make, to a man they called

  Boswell. But before we leave, rm going to bum them. There's only one set

  and rm burning it. The psychiatric Me as well."

  "Yoteve--P"

  'It1l be in the report.... There's a practical reason for my doing what Im

  doing. I don't know what's out there-I think I know, but I can't be

  certain. It started here and it's going to end here."

  "I see." Berquist paused. 'I can't change your mind and I can't stop you."

  "That's true."

  "Very well. I won't try. I like to think Im a judge of men. You have to be

  to sit in this office-at least, you should be. . . . What can a grateful

  nation, a very grateful President do for you?"

  "Leave me alone, sir. Leave us alone.'

  OHavelock?"

  'Yes?"

  "How can I be certain? The burning?"

  "Parsifal didn't want you to be. You see, he never wanted it to happen

  again. No more Matthiases. Superstars are out. He never wanted you to be

  absolutely sure."

  THE PAiiswAL MosAic687

  "111 have to think about that, won~t I?" "led be a good idea." "Matthias

  died this evening. It's why I tried to call you." "He died a long time

  ago, Mr. President."

  EPILOGUE

  Autumn. New Hamps re alternately chilled into gray submission by the gth=g

  arctic winds and then warmed by the vibrant colors of fall, the persistent

  sun giving life to the fields and refusing to submit to the slow approach of

  winter.

  Havelock hung up the phone in the enclosed porch that Jenna had insisted

  should be his study. She had seen him, had watched his eyes, as he had

  walked through the livingroom door of the old house and stood there,

  mesmerized by the expanse of glass and the framed countryside beyond. A

  desk, bookshelves against the inner brick wall, and an odd assortment of

  comfortable furniture had transformed the bare porch into an airy room

  protected by transparent walls that allowed a spacious view of the fields

  and the woods that meant so much to him. She had understood, and he loved

  her for understanding. What he could see from that very unusual place was

  not what others would see, not simply the tall grass and vastly taller

  trees in the distance but an everchanging landscape of sanctuary.

  And memories of tension and survival, they were there, too, suddenly

  welling up until be bad to move-physically-to overcome them to suppress

  them. It would take time; normality was noi to be found in a matter of

  weeks, even months.

  Underneath he had a fever because you bastards poisoned

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  THE PARSWAL MOSAIC689

  him. You fed him a diet of ... ftenzy. He needed his &I Dr. Matthew

  Randolph, dead man, talking about another dead man ... and so many others.

  They had discussed it, Jenna and he, and defined the fever that gripped him

  every now and then, and she was the only doctor he needed. They would take

  long walks; sudden bursts of running frequently became necessary for him,

  until ,the sweat came and his chest pounded. But the fever would pass, the

  explosions in his head dissolve-tbe guns would be stilled.

  Sleep came easier these days, and his fits of restlessness caused him to

  reach only for her and not for a weapon. There were no weapons in the

  house. There never would be in any house they would ever live in.

  "Mikha&" The cheerful shout was accompanied by the opening and closing of

  the door beyond the living room.

  "In berel" He turned in the leather swivel chair that was her last addition

  to his study.

  Jenna walk d into the sun-drenebed room, the light catching her long blond

  bair that fell from beneath a dark wool cap, her tweed coat buttoned to

  ward off the autumn chill outside. She lowered a canvas bag to the floor

  and kissed him lightly on the lips. "There are the books you wanted.

  Anybody call?" she asked, taking off her coat. "They put me an the student

  foreign exchange committee and I think rm supposed to be at a meeting

  tonight."

  'You are. Eight o'clock, Dean Crane's place~"

  "Good."

  ~You enjoy it, don't you?"

  "I can help, I do help. Not only because of the languages, but mainly with

  the government papers. All those years falsibirig documents does give one

  an advantage. At times I find it terribly difficult to be so honest. As if

  I'm doing something wrong.

  They both laughed. Havelock reached for her hand. "Someone else calle&"

  "Who?"

  "Berquist."

  Jenna stiffened. "He hasn't tried to reach you since you sent in your

  report."

  "He honored my request. I told him to leave us alone." Then why call you

  now? What does he wantr

  690 ROBERT LuDLum

  "He doesn't want anything. He thought I should be brought up to date."

  "About what?"

  "Loring's all right, but hell never get back in the field again."

  "I'm glad. On both counts."

  "I hope he can handle it."

  "He will. They'll make him a strategisL*

  'fbaes what I suggested."

  "I thought you would."

  Michael released her hand. "Decker didn't make it*

  "Whatr

  "It happened months ago, but they covered it up. It was the most generous

  thing they could do. He walked out of his house the morning after Seneca's

  Notch and was caught in the cross hairs. The guards moved in on the

  killer's car-the one sent by Pierce-and so did Decker. He just kept walking

  into the f1re, so help me God, singing 'The Battle Hymn of the Republic.'

  He wanted to die."

  "The death of a zealot."

  "Futility. He'd learned; in his twisted way he had a lot to offer."

  "It's history, Mikhail."

  "History," agreed Havelock.

  Jenna walked back to the canvas bag and took out the books. "I had coffee

  with Harry Lewis. I think be's working up the courage to tell you."

  "Birebtree?" Michael smiled. "It'll be something he can tell his

  grandchildren. Professor Harry Lewis, undercover man, complete with a code

  name."

  "I don't think be's terribly proud of it."

  "Why not? He didn't do anything wrong, and be did it better than most.

  Besides, be got me a job I happen to like very much. . . . Let's have Harry

  and his wife to dinner, and when the phone rings-believe me, it'll

  ring-I'll say ies for Birebtree."

  'Tou're outrageous," said Jenna, laughing.

  Havelock stopped smiling. "I'm restless," be said.

  "It was the call."

  "I get so goddamned ... restless." He looked at her.

  "Lees take a walk."

  THE PARSIFAL MOSAIC691

  71ey climbed the steep hill several miles west of the house where the high

  grass
bent with the breezes; the earth was hard, sun-baked, the sky an

  eloquent blue, speckled with the tassels of windswept clouds. Below to the

  north was a winding stream, the waters curling gently around the bends,

  flirting with the low-hanging branches and heading south with a purpose on

  the other side of the hill.

  "We had a picnic in Prague," said Michael, looking down. 'Remember? The

  Moldau was below then."

  'Well have a picnic here," said Jenna, watching him closely. "Chilled wine,

  salad-those dreadful sandwiches you like so much."

  "Ham and cheese, with celery, onions and mustard."

  "Yes,* she said, smiling. "Unfortunately, I remember."

  "If I were famous, they'd name it after me. Itd sweep the country, be on

  every menu."

  'Then keep a low proffle, my darling."

  His smile waned. "You're stronger than I am, Jenna."

  "If you want to believe that, fine, but it isn~t true."

  "It keeps coming back ... the restlessness."

  "Depression, Mikhail. And less and less, we both know that.*

  "Still, it comes back and I turn to you. You don~t have to turn to me."

  "But I do."

  "Not this way."

  "I never went through what you did for the length of time you did. And

  there's something else. It was always your responsibility, not mine. Every

  decision you made bad to cost you a part of yourself. It was yours, you

  were there. I could hide-behind you. I couldn't have done what you did.

  Quite simply, I don't have the strength."

  "Thaes not true."

  "Stamina, then, and that is true. All those weeks I was running, every now

  and then I bad to stop, stay where I was and do nothing, think of nothing.

  I couldn't go on, not durfng those moments, and I didn't question myself.

  I just knew I couldn't. You did; you could. As a child and as a man, and a

  price has to be paid for what you did-wbat was done to you. It will pass;

  it is passing."

  "A child," said Havelock, glancing at the stream below. "I see him, I feel

  him, but I don7t really know him. But I

  692 ROBERT LUDLUM

  remember him. When he was frightened or awfully hungry or tired and afraid

  to sleep, he'd climb a tree at daybreak and check for patrols. If there were

  none, he'd climb down and run through the fields as fast as be could, faster

  and faster and faster. After a while he felt good again, somehowconfident.

  Then he'd find a trench in a ravine or a deserted, bombed-out barn and

  sleep. A six-year-old getting a shot of whisky, all that oxygen in his

  lungs. It worked, and that was the only thing that mattered. The fever went

  down."

  Jenna touched his arm, studying his face, and began to smile. "Run now,

  Mikhail. Run down the hill and wait for me, but run by yourself. Go on, you

  lazy thingl Run!

  He ran, his legs scissoring the air, his feet pounding the earth, the wind

  whipping his face and cooling his body, taking the breath from him,

  replacing it with new breath. He reached the bottom of the bill far below,

  his chest expanding with each gasp, quiet laughter coming from his throat.

  The fever was passing; soon it would be gone. Again.

  He looked up at Jenna, the sun behind her, the blue sky above. He shouted

  between swallows of air, "Come on, you lazy thingl I'll race you back to

  the house. Our bousel"

  "IT trip you at the last momentl" yelled Jenna, coming down the hill

  rapidly but not running. "You know I can do Id"

  "It won't do you any goodl" Michael took out a bright metal object from his

  pocket. "I've got the key to the door. Our doorl"

  "Sillyl" Jerma shouted, breaking into a run. "You didn't lock itl We've

  never locked itl"

  She came to him and they held each other.

  "We don't have to," he said. "Not any longer.'