Halliday nodded. “There was a lot more in thatletter nothing that could damage me except wherehe was concerned, but it was brutal.”
“I’m certain of it.’ Converse took out a pack ofcigarettes; he held it forward as Halliday shook hishead. “How did you represent him?” asked Joel.
“I set up a corporation, a small consulting firmin Palo Alto specialising in imports and exports.What’s allowed, what isn’t, what the quotas are, andhow to legitimately reach the people in D.C. whowill listen to your case. Essentially it was a lobbyingeffort, trading in on a name, if anyone remembered.At the time, it struck me as kind of pathetic.”
“I thought you said it wasn’t registered,”remarked Converse, lighting a cigarette.
“It’s not the one we’re after. It’d be a waste oftime.”
“But it’s where you first got your information,isn’t it? Your leads?”
"4That was the accident, and it won’t happenagain. It’s so legitimate it’s legal Clorox.”
“Still it’s a front,” -insisted Joel. “It has to be ifeverything or anything you’ve said is true.”
“It’s true, and it is. But nothing’s written down.It’s an instrument for travel, an excuse for Delavaneand the men around him to go from one place toanother, carrying on legitimate business. But whilethey’re in a given area, they do their real thing.”
“The gathering of the generals and the fieldmarshals?” said Converse.
“We think it’s a spreading missionary operation.Very quiet and very intense.”
“What’s the name of Delavane’s firm?”
“Palo Alto International.”
Joel suddenly crushed out his cigarette. “Who’swe, Avery? Who’s putting up this kind of moneywhen amounts like that mean they’re people who canreach anyone they want to in Washington?”
“Are you interested?”
“Not in working for someone I don’t know orapprove of. No, I’m not.”
“Do you approve of the objectives as I’ve outlinedthem to you?”
“If what you’ve told me is true, and I can’t thinkof any reason why you’d lie about it, of course I do.You knew I would. That still doesn’t answer myquestion.”
“Suppose,” went on Halliday rapidly, “I were togive you a letter stating that the sum of five hundredthousand dollars to be allocated to you from a blindaccount on the island of Nfykonos was provided bya client of mine whose character and reputation areof the highest order. That his “
“Wait a minute, Press,” Converse broke in harshly.
“Please don’t interrupt me, Please!” Halliday’seyes were riveted on Joel, a manic intensity in hisstare. “There’s no other way, not now. I’ll put myname my professional life on the line. You’ve beenhired to do confidential work within yourspecialisation by a man known to me to be anoutstanding citizen who insists on anonymity. Iendorse both the man and the work he’s asked youto do, and swear not only to the legality of theobjectives but to the extraordinary benefits thatwould be derived by any success you might have.You’re covered, you’ve got five hundred thousanddollars, and I expect just as important to you,perhaps more so, you have the chance to stop amaniac maniacs from carrying out an unthinkableplan. At the least, they’d create widespread unrest,political crises everywhere, enormous suffering. Atthe worst, they might change the course of history tothe point where there wouldn’t be any history.”
Converse sat rigid in his chair, his gaze unbroken.“That’s quite a speech. Practice it long?”
“No, you son of a bitch! It wasn’t necessary topractice. Any more than you rehearsed that littleexplosion of yours twelve years ago in San Diego."Men like that can’t be allowed
anymore, don’t you understand? He was the enemy,our enemy?’ . . . Those were the words, weren’tthey?”
" You did your homework, counselor,” said Joel,his anger controlled. “Why does your client insist onbeing anonymous? Why doesn’t he take his money,make a political contribution, and talk to thedirector of the CIA, or the National SecurityCouncil, or the White House, any of which he coulddo easily? A half-million dollars isn’t choppedchicken liver even today.”
“Because he can’t be involved officially in anyway whatsoever.” Halliday frowned as he expelledhis breath. “I know it sounds crazy, but that’s theway it is. He is an outstanding man and I went tohim because I was cornered. Frankly, I thought he’dpick up the phone and do what you just said. Callthe White House, if it came to it, but he wanted togo this route.”
“With me?”
“Sorry, he didn’t know you. He said a strangething to me. He told me to find someone to shootdown the bastards without giving them the dignity ofthe government’s concern, even its recognition. Atfirst I couldn’t understand, but then I did. It fit inwith my own theory that laughing at the Delavanesof this world renders them impotent morethoroughly than any other way.”
“It also eliminates the specter of martyrdom,”added Converse. “Why would this outstandingcitizen do what he’s doing? Why is it worth themoney to him?”
“If I told you, I’d be breaking the confidence.”
“I didn’t ask you his name. I want to know why.”
“By telling you,” said the Califomian, “you’dknow who he is. I can’t do that. Take my word forit, you’d approve of him.”
“Next question,” said Joel, a sharp edge to hisvoice. “Just what the hell did you say to Talbot,Brooks that they found so acceptable?”
“Resigned to finding it acceptable,” correctedHalliday. “I had help. Do you know Judge LucasAnstett?”
“Second Circuit Court,” said Converse, nodding.“He should have been tapped for the SupremeCourt years ago.”
“That seems to be the consensus. He’s also afriend of my client, and as I understand it, he metwith John Talbot and Nathan Simon Brooks wasout of town and without revealing my client’sname, told them there was a problem that mightwell erupt into a national crisis if immediate legalac
tion wasn’t taken. Several U.S. firms were involved,he explained, but the problem basically lay inEurope and required the talents of an experiencedinternational lawyer. If their junior partner, JoelConverse, was selected and he accepted, would theyconsent to a leave of absence so he could pursue thematter on a confidential basis? Naturally, the judgestrongly endorsed the project.”
“And naturally Talbot and Simon went along,”said Joel. "You don’t refuse Anstett. He’s toodamned reasonable, to say nothing of the power ofhis court.”
“I don’t think he’d use that lever.”
“It’s there.”
Halliday reached into his jacket pocket and tookout a long white business envelope. “Here’s theletter. It spells out everything I said. There’s also aseparate page defining the schedule in Mykonos.Once you make arrangements at the bank how youwant the money paid or where you want ittransferred you’ll be given the name of a man wholives on the island; he’s retired. Phone him; he’ll tellyou when and where to meet. He has all the toolswe can give you. The names, the connections as wethink they are, and the activities they’re most likelyengaged in that violate the laws of their respectivegovernments sending arms, equipment, andtechnological information where it shouldn’t be sent.Build just two or three cases that are tied toDelavanc -even circumstantially and it’ll be enough.We’ll turn it all into ridicule. It will be enough.”
“Where the hey do you get your nerve?” saidConverse angrily. “I haven’t agreed to anything! Youdon’t make decisions for me, and neither doesTalbot or Simon, nor the holy Judge Anstett, noryour goddamned client! What did you think youwere doing? Appraising me like a piece of horse-flesh, making arrangements about me behind myback! Who do you people think you are?”
“Concerned people who think we’ve found theright man for the right job at the right time,” saidHalliday, dropping the envelope in front of Joel.“Only there’s not that much time left. You’ve beenwhere they want to take us and you know what it’slike.” Suddenly the Californian got up. “Think
aboutit. We’ll talk later. By the way, the Swiss know wewere meeting this morning. If anyone asks what wetalked about, tell them I agreed to the finaldisposition of the Class A stock. It’s in our favoreven though you may think otherwise. Thanks
for the coffee. I’ll be across the table in an hour. It’sgood to see you again, Joel.”
The Californian walked swiftly into the aisle andout through the brass gate of the Chat Botte intothe sunlight of the Quai du Mont Blanc.
The telephone console was built into the far endof a long dark conference table. Its muted hum wasin keeping with the dignified surroundings. TheSwiss arbitre, the legal representative of the cantonof Geneva, picked it up and spoke softly, noddinghis head twice, then replaced the phone in its cradle.He looked around the table; seven of the eightattorneys were in their chairs talking quietly withone another. The eighth, Joel Converse, stood infront of an enormous window flanked by drapes andoverlooking the Quai Gustave Ador. The giant jetd’eau erupted beyond, its pulsating spray cascadingto the left under the force of a north wind. The skywas growing dark; a summer storm was on its wayfrom the Alps.
“Messieurs, ” said the arbiter Conversations trailedoff as faces were turned to the Swiss. “That wasMonsieur Halliday. He has been detained, but urgesyou to proceed. His associate, Monsieur Rogeteau,has his recommendations, and it is understood thathe met with Monsieur Converse earlier this morningto resolve one of the last details. Is that not so,Monsieur Converse?”
Heads turned again, now in the oppositedirection toward the figure by the window. Therewas no response. Converse continued to stare downat the lake.
“Monsieur Converse?”
“I beg your pardon?” Joel turned, a frowncreasing his brow, his thoughts far away, nowherenear Geneva.
“It is so, monsieur?”
“What was the question?”
“You met earlier with Monsieur Halliday?”
Converse paused. “It is so,” he replied.
“And 9″
“And he agreed to the final disposition of theClass A stock.”
There was an audible expression of relief on thepart of the Americans and a silent acceptance fromthe Bern contingent, their eyes noncommittal.Neither reaction was lost on Joel, and underdifferent circumstances he might have tabled
the item for additional consideration. Halliday’sjudgment of Bern’s advantage notwithstanding, theacceptance was too easily achieved; he would havepostponed it anyway, at least for an hour’s worth ofanalysis. Somehow it did not matter. Goddamn him!thought Converse.
“Then let us proceed as Monsieur Hallidaysuggested,” said the arbitre, glancing at his watch.
An hour stretched into two, then three, the humof voices mingling in counterpoint as pages werepassed back and forth, points clarified, paragraphsinitiated. And still Halliday did not appear. Lampswere turned on as darkness filled the midday skyoutside the huge windows; there was talk of theapproaching storm.
Then, suddenly, screams came from beyond thethick oak door of the conference room, swelling involume until images of horror filled the minds of allwho heard the prolonged terrible sounds. Somearound the enormous table lunged under it, othersgot out of their chairs and stood in shock, and a fewrushed to the door, among them Converse. Thearbiter twisted the knob and yanked it back with suchforce that the door crashed into the wall. What theysaw was a sight none of them would ever forget. Joellashed out, gripping, pulling, pushing away those infront of him as he raced into the anteroom.
He saw Avery Fowler, his white shirt coveredwith blood, his chest a mass of tiny, bleeding holes.As the wounded man fell, his upturned collarseparated to reveal more blood on his throat. Theexpulsions of breath were too well known to Joel; hehad held the heads of children in the camps as theyhad wept in anger and the ultimate fear. He heldAvery Fowler’s head now, lowering him to the floor.
“My God, what ha Opened ?” cried Converse,cradling the dying man in his arms.
“They’re . . . back,” coughed the classmate fromlong ago. “The elevator. They trapped me in theelevator! . . . They said it was for Aquitaine, that wasthe name they used . . . Aquitaine. Oh, Christ! Meg. . . the kids!” Avery Fowler’s head twisted spasticallyinto his right shoulder, then the final expulsion of aircame from his bloodied throat.
Converse stood in the rain, his clothes drenched,staring at the unseen place on the water where onlyan hour ago the
fountain had shot up to the sky proclaiming this wasGeneva. The lake was angry, an infinity of whitecapshad replaced the graceful white sails. There were noreflections anywhere. But there was distant thunderfrom the north. From the Alps.
And Joel’s mind was frozen.
He walked past the long marble counter of thehotel Richemond’s front desk and headed for thewinding staircase on the left. It was habit; his suitewas on the second Hoor and the brass-grilledelevators with their wine-colored velvet interiorswere things of beauty, but not of swiftness. Too, heenjoyed passing the casement displays ofoutrageously priced brilliantly lit jewels that linedthe walls of the elegant staircase shimmeringdiamonds, blood-red rubies, webbed necklaces ofspun gold. Somehow they reminded him of change,of extraordinary change. For him. For a life he hadthought would end violently, thousands of milesaway in a dozen different yet always the samerat-infested cells, with muted gunfire and thescreams of children in the dark distance. Diamonds,rubies, and spun gold were symbols of theunattainable and unrealistic, but they were there,and he passed them, observed them, smiling at theirexistence . . . and they seemed to acknowledge him,large shining eyes of infinite depth staring back,telling him they were there, he was there. Change.
But he did not see them now, nor did theyacknowledge him. He saw nothing, felt nothing;every tentacle of his mind and body was numbed,suspended in airless space. A man he had known asa boy under one name had died in his arms yearslater under another, and the words he hadwhispered at the brutal moment of death were asincomprehensible as they were paralysing. Aquitaine.They said it was for Aquitaine…. Where was sanity,where was reason? What did the words mean andwhy had he been drawn into that elusive meaning?He had been drawn in, he knew, and there wasrea
son in that terrible manipulation. The magnet was aname, a man. George Marcus Delavane, warlord ofSaigon.
“Monsieur!” The suppressed shout came frombelow; he turned on the stairs and saw the formallyattired concierge rushing across the lobby and up thesteps. The man’s name was Henri, and they hadknown each other for nearly five years. Theirfriendship went beyond that of hotel executive andhotel guest; they had gambled together frequently atDivonne-les-bains, across the French border.
“Hello, Henri.”
“Mon Dieu, are you all right, Joel? Your office inNew York has been calling you repeatedly. I heardit on the radio, it is all over Geneval La drogue!Drugs, crime, guns . . . murder! It touches even usnow!”
“Is that what they say?”
“They say small packages of cocaine were foundunder his shirt, a respected avocat international asuspected connection “
“It’s a lie,” Converse broke in.
“It’s what they say, what can I tell you? Yourname was mentioned; it was reported that he died asyou reached him. . . . You were not implicated, ofcourse; you were merely there with the others. Iheard your name and I’ve been worried sickl Wherehave you beenk”
“Answering a lot of unanswerable questions downat police headquarters.” Questions that wereanswerable, but not by him, not to the authorities inGeneva. Avery Fowler Preston Halliday deservedbetter than that. A trust had been given, and beenaccepted in death.
“Christ, you’re drenched!” cried Henri, intenseconcern in his eyes. “You’ve been walking in the rain,haven’t you? There were no taxis?”
“I didn’t look, I wanted to walk.”
“Of course, the shock, I understand. I’ll send upsome brandy, some decent Armagnac. And dinner,perhaps I’ll release your table at theGentilshommes.”
“Thanks. Give me thirty minutes and have y
ourswitchboard get New York for me, will you? I neverseem to dial it right.”
“Joel?”
“What?”
“Can I help? Is there something you should tellme? We have won and lost together over too manygrand cry bottles
for you to go alone when you don’t have to. I knowGeneva, my friend.”
Converse looked into the wide brown eyes, atthe lined face, rigid in its concern. “Why do you saythat?”
“Because you so quickly denied the policereports of coeaine, what else? I watched you. Therewas more in what you said than what you said.”
Joel blinked, and for a moment shut his eyelidstight, the strain in the middle of his forehead acute.He took a deep breath and replied. “Do me a favor,Henri, and don’t speculate. Just get me an overseasline in a half-hour, okay?”
“Entendu, monsieur,” said the Frenchman. “Leconcderge du R*hemond is here only to serve herguests, special guests accorded special service, ofcourse…. I’m here if you need me, my friend.”
“I know that. If I turn a wrong card, I’ll let youknow.”
“If you have to turn any card in Switzerland, callme. The suits vary with the players.”
“I’ll remember that. Thirty minutes? A line?”
“Certainement, monsieur.”
The shower was as hot as his skin could tolerate,the steam filling his lungs, cutting short the breathin his throat. He then forced himself to endure anice-cold spray until his head shivered. He reasonedthat the shock of extremes might clear his mind, atleast reduce the numbness. He had to think; he hadto decide; he had to listen.
He came out of the bathroom, his whiteterrycloth robe blotting the residue of the shower,and shoved his feet into a pair of slippers on thefloor beside the bed. He removed his cigarettes andlighter from the bureau top, and walked into thesitting room. The concerned Henri had been true tohis word; on the coffee table a floor steward hadplaced a bottle of expensive Armagnac and twoglasses for appearance, not function. He sat downon the soft, pillowed couch, poured himself a drink,and lighted a cigarette. Outside, the heavy Augustrain pounded the casement windows, the tattooharsh and unrelenting. He looked at his watch; itwas a few minutes past six shortly past noon inNew York. Joel wondered if Henri had been able toget a clear transatlantic line. The lawyer in Conversewanted to hear the words spoken from New York,words that would either confirm or deny a deadman’s revelation. It had been twenty-five minutessince Henri had
The Aquaintaine Progession Page 4
