The Aquaintaine Progession

by Ludlum, Robert

  Remington got up and returned the half-filledwineglass by thlle ciop?,p,er bar; he stood atattention and spoke “Will that

  “Yes, that’s it,” said the admiral, his gaze strayingto the window and the ocean beyond.

  The lieutenant saluted sharply as Hickmanbrought a casual hand to his forehead. The lawyerthen did an about-face and started for the door.

  “Remington?”

  “Yes, sir?” replied the lieutenant, turning.

  “Who the hell is this Converse?”

  “I don’t know, sir. But Commander Fitzpatricksaid the status of the flag was a Four Zeroemergency.”

  "Jesus . “

  Hickman picked up his phone and touched acombination of buttons on the console. Momentslater he was speaking to a fellow ranking officer inthe Fifth Naval District.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait three days, Scanlon.”

  “Why is that?” asked the admiral named Scanlon.

  “The CLO negative holds on the Converse flagas far as SAND PAC is concerned. If you want togo the D.C. route be my guest. We’ll cooperate.”

  “I told you, Brian, my people don’t want to gothrough Washington. You’ve had these thingshappen before. D.C. makes waves, and we don’twant waves.”

  “Well then, why don’t you tell me why you wantthe Converse flag? Who is he?”

  “I’d tell you if I could, you know that. Frankly,I’m not all that clear on it myself, and what I doknow I’ve sworn to keep secure.”

  “Then go to Washington, I’m standing behind myChief Legal, who, incidentally, isn’t even here.”

  “He isn’t? But you talked to him.”

  “No, to his next in line, a lieutenant namedRemington. He took the direct order from theCLO. Believe me, Remington won’t budget. I gavehim the chance and he covered himself withlegalities. Around here he’s known as a sticklerprick.”

  “Did he say why the negative was put out?”

  “He didn’t have any idea. Why don’t you callhim yourself? He’s probably still downstairs andmaybe you can “

  “You didn’t use my name, did you?” interruptedScanlon apparently agitated.

  “No, you asked me not to, but he’ll know it inthree days. He’ll have to sign the release and I’llhave to tell him who requested it.” Hickman paused,then without warning exploded. “What the hell isthis all about, Admiral? Some pilot who wasdischarged over eighteen years ago is suddenly oneverybody’s most-wanted list. I get a departmentalpriority teletype from the big Fifth D and you followit up with a personal call, playing the old Annapolismemory game, but you won’t tell

  me anything. Then I find out my own CLO withoutmy knowing about it has put a negative on thisConverse flag and labeled it a Four Zero emergencystatus! Now, I know he’s got personal problems andI won’t bother him until tomorrow and Irealizeyou’ve given your word to stay secure, butgoddamn it, somebody had better start telling mesomething!”

  There was no response from the other end of theline. But there was the sound of breathing; and itwas tremulous.

  “Scanlon!”

  " What did you just say?” said the voice of theadmiral thirty-six hundred miles away.

  “I’m going to find out anyway “

  “No, the status. The status of the flag.” Scanloncould barely be heard.

  “Four-Zero emergency, that’s what I said!”

  The interruption was abrupt) there was only anechoing click. Admiral Scanlon had hung up thephone.

  Walter Peregrine, United States ambassador tothe Federal Republic of Germany, confrontedFitzpatrick. “What’s your name, Commander?”

  “Fowler, sir,” answered the Navy lawyer, glancingbriefly but hard at Dowling. “Lieutenant CommanderAvery Fowler, United States Navy.” Again Connallooked at the actor, who stared at him through themoonlight.

  “I understand there’s some question about that,”said Peregrine, his glare as hostile as Dowling’s.“May I see your identification, please?”

  “I’m not carrying identification, sir. It’s the natureof my assignment not to do so, sir.” Fitzpatrick’swords were rapid, precise, his posture squared anderect.

  “I want verification of your name, your rank, andyour branch of service! Now!”

  “The name I’ve given you is the name I wasinstructed to give should anyone beyond the scope ofthe assignment inquire.”

  “Whose instructions?” barked the diplomat.

  “My superior officers, sir.”

  “Am I to infer that Fowler is not your correctname?”

  “With respect, Mr. Ambassador. My name isFowler, my rank is lieutenant commander, mybranch of the service is the United States Navy.”

  “Where the hell do you think you are? Behind thelines,

  captured by the enemy? "Name, rank, and serialnumber that’s all I’m required to say under therules of the Geneva Convention’!”

  “It’s all I’m permitted to say, sir.”

  “We’ll damn well find out about that,Commander if you are a commander. Also aboutthis Converse, who appears to be a very oddliar one minute the soul of propriety, the next avery strange man on the run.”

  “Please try to understand, Mr. Ambassador, ourassignment is classified. In no way does it involvediplomacy, nor will it impair your efforts as the chiefAmerican representative of our government. But itis classified. I will report this conversation to mysuperiors and you will undoubtedly hear from them.Now, if you gentlemen will forgive me, I’ll be on myway.”

  “I don’t think so, Commander or whoever youare. But if you are who you say, nothing’scompromised. I’m not a damn fool. Nothing will besaid to anyone on the embassy staff. Mr. Dowlinginsisted on that and I accepted the condition. Youand I will be locked in a communications room witha phone on a scrambler and you’re going to place acall to Washington. I didn’t take this job at a loss ofthree-quarters of a million a year to find shoe clerksrunning an investigation of my own company withoutmy knowing about it. If I want an outside audit, I’lldamn well order it myself.”

  “I wish I could comply, sir; it sounds like areasonable request. But I’m afraid I can’t.”

  “I’m afraid you will!”

  “Sorry.”

  “Do as he says, Commander,” interjectedDowling. “As he told you, nothing’s been said toanyone, and nothing will be. But Converse needsprotection; he’s a wanted man in a foreign countryand he doesn’t even speak the language. TakeAmbassador Peregrine’s offer. He’ll keep his word.”

  “With respect, sirs, the answer is negative.”Connal turned away and started up the wide path.

  “Major!” shouted the ambassador, his voicefurious. “Stop him! Stop that man!”

  Fitzpatrick looked behind him; for reasons hecould not explain to himself he saw what he neverexpected to see, and the instant he did, he knew heshould have expected it. From out of the distantshadows of the immense, majestic building a manrushed forward, a man who was obviously a military

  aide to the ambassador a member of the embassystaff! Connal froze, Joel’s words coming back to him.Those men you saw at the airport, the ones from theembassy . . . they’re on the other side.

  Under almost any other circumstances,Fitzpatrick would have remained where he was andweathered it out. He hadn’t actually done anythingwrong; there was nothing illegal, no laws broken ofwhich he was cognizant, and no one could force himto discuss personal matters where no law had beenviolated. Then he realized how wrong he was! Thegenerals of George Marcus Delavane would forcehim, could force him! He spun around and ran.

  Suddenly gunfire erupted. Two earsplitting shotsabove him! He dove to the ground and rolled intothe shadows of the bushes as a man’s voice roaredover the stillness of the night and the sleepinggardens.

  “You goddamned son of a bitch! What do youthink you’re doing!”

  There were further shouts, a further barrage ofobscenities, and the sounds of struggle filled thequiet enclave of the university.

  “You don’t kid a man! Besides, you bast
ard, therecould be other people! Don’t say a word, Mr.Ambassador!”

  Connal scrambled across the graveled path andspread apart the bordering foliage. In the clearmoonlight of the distant bench, the actor CalebDowling the former marine from Kwajalein stoodover the body of the major who had run out of theshadow, his boot on the supine man’s throat, hishand grasping the man’s extended arm to wrench theweapon free.

  “You are one dumb son of a bitch, Major! Or,goddamn you, maybe you’re something else!”

  Fitzpatrick got to his knees, then to his feet, and,crouching, raced into the receding darkness of thewide path toward the exit.

  “I didn’t have any choice!” said Connal. He haddropped the attache case on the couch and wassitting in an adjacent chair, leaning forward, stillshaking.

  “Calm down; try to relax.” Converse walked tothe elegant antique hunt table against the wallwhere there was a large silver tray with whisky, iceand glasses. Joel had learned to make use of roomservice in English. " You need a drink,” he said,pouring Fitzpatrick’s bourbon.

  Do I ever! I’ve never been shot at. You have.Christ, is that what it’s like?”

  “That’s what it’s like. You can’t believe it. It’sunreal, just mind-blowing sounds that can’t reallyhave anything to do with you, until until. you seethe evidence for yourself. It’s real, it’s meant foryou, and you’re sick. There’s no swelling music, nobrass horns, just vomit.” Converse brought the navalofficer his drink.

  “You’re omitting something,” said Connal, takingthe glass and looking up at Joel.

  “No, I’m not. Let’s think about tonight. If youheard Dowling right, the ambassador won’t sayanything around the embassy “

  “I remember,” interrupted Fitzpatrick, takingseveral swallows of the bourbon, his eyes still onConverse. “It was in one of the other flags. Duringyour second escape a man got killed; it wassundown. You reached him when it happened, andthe flag said you went crazy for a couple of minutes.Somehow, according to this guy a sergeant, Ithink you circled around in the jungle, caught theNorth Vietnamese, killed him with his own knifeand got his repeating rifle. Then you blew awaythree other Viets in the area.”

  Joel held his place in front of the Navy lawyer.He answered the younger man, his voice quiet, hislook angry. “I hate descriptions like that,” he saidflatly. " It raises all the im

  ages I loathe…. Let me tell you the way it was likeit was, counselor. A kid, no more than nineteen, hadto relieve himself, and although we stuck together hehad the dignity to go ten or fifteen feet away to takecare of his private functions, using leaves becausesqueezable toilet paper wasn’t available. Themaniac I won’t use the word ’soldier’ who killedhim waited for the precise moment, then fired off aburst that cut that kid’s face apart. When I reachedhim, half of that face in my hands, I heard thecackle, the obscene laughter of an obscene man whopersonified for me everything I found de-spicable whether North Vietnamese or American.If you want to know the truth, whatever I did I didagainst both because both were guilty, all of usturned into animals, myself included. Those otherthree men, those enemies, those uniformed robots,probably with wives and children back in villagessomewhere up north, had no idea I got behind them.I shot them in the back, counselor. What wouldJohnny Ringo say about that? Or John Wayne?”

  Connal was silent as Joel walked over to the hunttable to pour himself a whisky. The Navy lawyerdrank, then spoke. “A few hours ago you said youknew where I was coming from because you’d beenthere. Well, I haven’t been where you were, but I’mbeginning to see where you’re coming from. Youreally hate everything that Aquitaine stands for, don’tyou? Especially those running it.”

  Converse turned. “With everything that’s in me,”he said. “That’s why we’ve got to talk about tonight.”

  “I told you, I had no choice. You said theembassy people I saw at the airport were withDelavane. I couldn’t take the chance.”

  “I know. Now we’re both running, hunted by ourown people and protected by the men we want totrap. We’ve got to think, Commander.”

  The telephone rang twice abrasively. Fitzpatrickleaped from the chair, his initial reaction one ofshock. Joel watched him, calming him with his look.“Sorry,” said Connal. “I’m still edgy. I’ll get it; I’ll beall right.” The Navy lawyer crossed to the phone andpicked it up. ":7a?” He listened for several seconds,covered the mouthpiece and looked at Converse. “It’sthe overseas operator. San Francisco. It’s Meagen.”

  “Which means Remington,” saidJoel, his throatsuddenly dry, his pulse accelerating.

  “Meagen? Yes, I’m here. What is it?” Fitzpatrickstared

  straight ahead as his sister talked; he noddedfrequently, the muscles of his jaw working as heconcentrated. “Oh, Chr"st! . . . No, it’s all right. Imean it, everything s okay. Do you have thenumber?” Connal looked down at the smalltelephone table; there was a message pad but nopencil. He glanced over at Joel, who had alreadystarted for the desk and a hotel pen. Fitzpatrickheld out his hand, took the pen and wrote out aseries of numbers. Converse stood aside, consciousthat he was barely breathing, his fingers gripping theglass. “Thanks, Meagen. I know it’s a hell of a timefor you; you don’t need this but if you have to callagain, make it station-to-station, okay? . . . I will,Meg, I give you my word. Good-bye.” The Navylawyer hung up, his hand for a moment remainingon the telephone.

  “Remington called, didn’t he?” said Joel.

  “Yes.”

  "What happened ?”

  “Someone tried to get the flag on your servicerecord released,” said Fitzpatrick, turning, looking atConverse. “It’s okay. Remington stopped it.”

  “Who was it?”

  “I don’t know, I’ll have to reach David. Meagendoesn’t have any idea what a flag is, much less whoyou are. The message was only that "a release wassought for the flag,’ but he stopped it.”

  “Then everything’s all right.”

  “That’s what I said, but it’s not.”

  “Clarification, goddamn it!”

  “There’s a time limit on how long my orderstands. It’s only a day or two after the vettingprocess “

  “Which is forty-eight hours,” interrupted Joel.

  “Yes, I’m sure of that; it’s after that. You see,you thought this would happen, but frankly I didn’t.Whoever’s asking for that flag isn’t small potatoes.You could walk out of that meeting and a few hourslater your new associates could have that stuff intheir hands. Converse the Delavane-hater. Is he nowthe Delavane-hunter?”

  “Call Remington.”Joel went to the French doors,opened them, and walked out on the small balcony.Drifting wisps of clouds filtered the moonlight, andfar to the east there were Hashes of heat lightningreminding Converse of the silent artillery fire he andthe other escaping prisoners would see in the hills,knowing it was sanctuary but unreachable. He could

  hear Fitzpatrick inside; from the sound of his voicehe was getting a line through to San Diego. Joelreached into a pocket for his cigarettes; he lightedone. Whether it was the bright glow of the flamethat illuminated the movement he did not know, buthe looked in the direction of that movement. Twobalconies away, about thirty feet to his right, a manstood watching him. The figure was a silhouette inthe dim light; he nodded and went back inside. Wasthe man simply another guest who had coincidentallygone outside for a breath of air? Or had Aquitaineposted a guard? Converse could hear the Navylawyer talking conversationally; he turned andwalked back into the room.

  Connal was seated in the chair on the other sideof the table. He held the phone to his ear with hisleft hand; his right held the pen above the messagepad. He made a note, then said quickly, “Wait aminute. You say Hickman told you to let it ride buthe wouldn’t tell you who specifically made the re-quest? . . . I see. All right, David, thanks very much.Are you going out tonight? . . . So if I need you Ican reach you at this number…. Yes, I know, it’sthese damn phones up in Sonoma. One heavy rain inthe hills and you’re lucky to get a line, forget a clearone. Thanks again, Da
vid. Good-bye.” Fitzpatrickhung up the phone and looked strangely, almostguiltily, at Joel. Instead of speaking, he shook hishead, breathing out and frowning.

  "What is it? What’s the matter?”

  “You’d better get everything you can at thatmeeting tomorrow. Or is it today?”

  “It’s past midnight. It’s today. Why?”

  “Because twenty-four hours later that flag will bereleased to a section in the Fifth NavalDistrict that’s Norfolk, and it’s powerful. They’llknow everything you don’t want them to know aboutyou. The time limit is seventy-two hours.”

  “Get an extension!”

  Connal stood up, helplessness in his expression.“On what basis?”

  “What else? National security.”

  “I’d have to spell out the reasons, you know that.”

  “I don’t know that. Extensions are granted for allsorts of contingencies. You need more time toprepare. A source or a witness has beenpostponed illness or an injury. Or per

  sonal matters goddamn it, your brother-in-law’sfuneral, your sister’s grief–they’ve delayed yourprogress!”

  “Forget it, Joel. If I tried that, they’d tie you inwith Press and good-bye Charlie. They killed him,remember?”

  “No,” said Converse firmly. “It’s the other wayaround. It separates us further.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve thought about this, tried to put myself inAvery’s shoes. He knew his every move was beingwatched, his telephone probably tapped. He said thegeography, the Comm Tech-Bern merger, thebreakfast, Geneva itself, everything had to belogical; it couldn’t be any other way. At the end ofthat breakfast he said if I agreed we’d talk later.”

  “So?”

  “He knew we’d be seen together it wasunavoidable and I think he was going to give methe words to say if someone in Aquitaine asked meabout him. He was going to turn everything aroundand give me the push I needed to reach these men.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”