“Don’t apologize, mein Herr, ” said the chauffeur.“It happens often.”
“I wasn’t going to apologise,” said Converse flatlyas he released the man. “I was going to break yourneck.” The German moved away, and Joel remainedmotionless, stunned by
his own words. He had not spoken words like thatin over eighteen years.
“This way, sir.” said the man on the steps, hisaccent oddly yet distinctly British.
Inside, the great hall was lined with medievalbanners hanging down from an interior balcony.The hal] led into an immense sitting room, themotif again medieval, made comfortable by softleather chairs and couches, gaily fringed lamps andsilver services everywhere on thin polished tables.The room was also made ugly by the profusion ofprotruding animals’heads on the upper walls; largecats, elephants and boar looked down in defiantanger. It was a field marshal’s lair.
It was not, however, the furnishings thatabsorbed Converse’s attention but the sight of thefour men who stood beside four separate chairsfacing him.
He knew Bertholdier and LeifLelm; they stoodbeside each other on the right. It was the two onthe left he stared at. The medium-sized, stocky manwith the fringe of close-cropped hair on a baldinghead and wearing a rumpled safari jacket, theever-present boots below his khaki trousers, couldbe no one but Chaim Abrahms. His pouched, angryface with its slits of glaring eyes was the face of anavenger. The very tall man with the gaunt, aquilinefeatures and the straight grey hair was General Janvan Headmer, the Slayer of Soweto. Joel had readthe Van Headmer dossier quickly; fortunately it wasthe briefest, the final summary saying it all.
In essence, Van Headmer is a Cape Townaristocrat, an Afrikaner who has never reallyaccepted the British, to say nothing of the tribalblacks. His convictions are rooted in a reality thatfor him is unshakable. His forebears carved out asavage land under savage conditions and at a greatloss of life brutally taken by savages. His thinking isunalterably that of the late-nineteenth andearly-twentieth centuries. He will not accept thesociological and political in
"roads made by the more educated Bantus becausehe will never consider them anything more thanbush primitives. When he orders austeredeprivations and mass executions, he thinks he isdealing only with subhuman animals. It is thisthinking that led him to be jailed along with PrimeMinister Verwoerd and the racist Vorster duringWorld War II. He con
curred wholeheartedly with the Nazi concept of su
perior races. His close association with ChaimAbrahms is the single difference between him andthe Nazis, and not a contradiction for him. Thesabres carved a land out of a primitive Palestine;their history parallels his country’s, and both mentake pride in their strength and respectiveaccomplishments. Van Headmer, incidentally, is oneof the most charming men one could meet. On thesurface he is cultured, extremely courteous andalways willing to listen. Underneath, he is anunfeeling killer, and he is Delavane’s key figure inSouth Africa with its vast resources.
“Mein Haus ist dein Haus,” said LeifLelm, walkingtoward Joel, his hand outstretched.
Converse stepped forward to accept theGerman’s hand. Their hands clasped. “That was anodd greeting outside for such a warm sentiment,”said Joel, abruptly releasing Leifhelm’s hand andturning to Bertholdier. “Good to see you again,General. My apologies for the unfortunate incidentin Paris the other night. I don’t mean to speak lightlyof a man’s life, but in those few split seconds I didn’tthink he had much regard for mine.”
Joel’s boldness had the desired effect.Bertholdier stared at him, momentarily unsure ofwhat to say. And Converse was aware that the otherthree men were watching him intently withoutquestion struck by his audacity, in both manners andwords.
“To be sure, monsieur,” said the Frenchman,pointlessly but with composure. "As you know, theman disregarded his orders.”
“Really? I was told he misunderstood them.”
“It is the samel” The sharp, heavily accentedvoice came from behind.
Joel turned around. "Is it?” he asked coldly.
“In the field, yes,” said Chaim Abrahms. “Eitherone is an error, and errors are paid for with lives.The man paid with his.”
“May I introduce Ceneral Abrahms?” Leifhelmbroke in touching Converse’s elbow and leading himto the Israeli.
“General Abrahms, it’s a privilege,” said Joel withconvincing sincerity as they shook hands. “Likeeveryone here,
I’ve admired you tremendously, although perhapsyour rhetoric has been excessive at times.”
The Israeli’s face reddened as soft laughter filledthe large room. Suddenly Van Headmer steppedforward, and Converse’s eyes were drawn to thestrong face, the brows frowning, muscles taut.
“You are addressing one of my closestassociates, sir,” he said; the rebuke wasunmistakable. Then a thin smile creased his gaunt,chiseled face. “And I could not have said it bettermyself. A pleasure to know you, young man.” TheAfrikaner’s hand was stretched toward Joel, whoaccepted it amid the subdued laughter.
“I am insulted!” cried Abrahms, his thickeyebrows raised, his head bobbing in mock despair.“By talkers I’m insulted! Frankly, Mr. Converse, theyagree with you because none of them has had awoman in a quarter of a century. They may tell youotherwise others may tell you otherwise butbelieve me they hire whores to play cards with themor read stories into their old grey ears just to fooltheir friends!” The laughter grew louder, and theIsraeli, now playing to an audience, went on,leaning forward and pretending to speak sotto voceto Joel. "But you see, I hire the whores to tell methe truth while I shtup them! They tell me thesefancy talkers nod off by nine o’clock, whining forwarm milk. With the Ovaltine, if it’s possible!”
“My dear sabre,” said Leifhelm, talking throughhis laughter, “you read your own romantic fictiontoo assiduously. "
“You see what I mean, Converse?” askedAbrahms shrugging, palms extended. “You hearthat? "Assiduously. Now you know why the Germanslost the war. They forever spoke so dramatically ofthe Blitzkrieg and the AngrifJ:e, but actually theywere talking assiduously about what to do next!”
“They should have given you a commission,Chaim,” said Bertholdier, enjoying himself. “Youcould have changed your name, called Rommel andVon Runstedt Jews and taken over both fronts.”
“The High Command could have done worse,”agreed the Israeli.
“I wonder, though,” continued the Frenchman,“if you would have stopped there? Hitler was a fineorator, as you are
a fine orator. Perhaps you would have claimed thathe, too, was a Jew and moved into the chancellery.”
“Oh, I have it on good authority that he was aJew. But from a very bad family. Even we have them;of course, they’re all from Europe.”
The laughter grew again and then rapidly beganto subside. Joel took the cue. “Sometimes I speaktoo frankly, General,” he said. "I should learn better,but, believe me, no insult was intended. I havenothing but admiration for your stated positions,your policies.”
“And that’s precisely what we shall discuss,” saidErich Leifhelm, drawing everyone’s attention.“Positions, policies, overall philosophy, if you will.We will stay as far away from specifics as we can,although a few will undoubtedly intrude. However,it is our approach to the larger abstractions thatcount. Come, Mr. Converse, have a chair. Let usbegin our conference, the first of many, I trust.”
Rear Admiral Hickman slowly put down thetranscript on his desk, and looked aimlessly past hispropped-up feet out the window at the ocean undera grey sky. He crossed his. arms, lowered his headand frowned. He was as bewildered now as he hadbeen when he first read the transcript, as convincednow as he was then that Remington’s con-clusions conclusion, really was off the mark. Butthen the legal officer was too young to have any realknowledge of the events as they had actuallyhappened; no one who had not been there couldreally understand. Too many others did; it was thereason for the flag, but it made no sense to applythat reasoning to this Converse eighteen years later.It was exhuming a corpse that had died from a feve
r,whether the shell of a man lived on or not. It had tobe something else.
Hickman looked at his watch, unfolded his armsand removed his feet from the edge of the table. Itwas three-ten in Norfolk; he reached for thetelephone.
“Hello, Brian,” said Rear Admiral Scanlon of theFifth Naval District. “I want you to know how muchwe appreciate SAND PAC’s help in this thing.”
“SAND PAC’s?” asked Hickman, bemused thatno credit was given to the State Department.
“All right, Admiral, your help. I owe you one, oldHicky.”
“Start paying by dropping that name.”
“Hey, come on, don’t you remember the hockeygames?
You’d come racing up the ice and the whole cadetcorps would shout: "Here comes Hicky! Here comesHicky!’ “
“May I unblock my ears now?”
“I’m just trying to thank you, pal.”
“That s just it, I m not sure for what? Have youread the transcript?”
“Naturally.”
"What the hell s there?”
Well,” answered Scanlon tentatively. PI read itpretty quickly. It’s been an awful day and, frankly,I just passed it on. What do you think is there?Between you and me, I’d like to know, because Ibarely had time to skim through it.”
What do I think is there? Absolutely nothing.Oh, sure, we kept Hags on stuff like that back thenbecause the White House passed the order to put alid on officially recorded criticism and we all wentalong. Also we were pretty sick and tired of itourselves. But there’s nothing in that transcript thathasn’t been heard before, or that has any value foranyone but military historians a hundred years fromnow as a very small footnote.”
Swell,” said Scanlon, even more tentatively, " thisConverse had some pretty harsh things to say aboutCommand-Saigon.”
About Mad Marcus? Christ, I said worse duringthe Force-Tonkin conferences and my CO did meten times better. We ferried in those kids up anddown the coast when all they were ready for was aday at the beach with hot dogs and Ferris wheels….I don’t get it. You and my legal zero in on the samething, and I think it’s old hat and discredited. MadMarcus is a relic.”
Your who?”
My legal exec. I told you about him, Remington.”
Oh, yes. The stickler prick.”
.He picked up on the Saigon thing too. "That’sit,’ he said. It’s in those remarks. It’s Delavane.’ Hewasn’t around to know Delavane was fair game forevery antiwar group in the country. Hell, we gavehim the name Mad Marcus. No, it’s not Delavane,it’s something else. Perhaps it’s in those escapes,specifically Converse’s last escape. Maybe there’ssome MIA input we don’t know about.”
"Well,” repeated the admiral in Norfolk for thethird time, but now far less tentatively. You mayhave something there, but it doesn’t concern us.Look, I’ll be honest with you.
I didn’t want to say anything because I didn t wantyou to think you went to a lot of trouble for nothing,but the word I get is that the whole thing is abust-negative.”
“Oh?” said Hickman, suddenly listening verycarefully. “How so?”
"lt’s the wrong man. Apparently anoverenthusiastic JG was doing some digging in thesame time period, the same general circumstances.He saw the flag and drew six wrong conclusions. Ihope he enjoys taking five A.M. muster.”
“And that’s it?” asked SAND PAC’s admiral,controlling his astonishment.
“That’s the feedback we get here. Whatever yourCLO had in mind hasn’t anything to do with ourpeople.”
Hickman could not believe what he was hearing.Of course Scanlon had not mentioned the StateDepartment’s efforts. He knew nothing about them!He was quickly putting as much distance betweenhimself and the Converse flag as he could, Iyingbecause he had not been told. State was workingquietly probably through Cons Op and Scanlonhad no reason to think “old Hicky” knew a damnthing about Bonn or Converse or ConnalFitzpatrick’s whereabouts. Or about a man namedPreston Halliday who had been murdered in Geneva.What was happening? He would not find out fromScanlon. Nor did he care to.
“To hell with it, then. My CLO will be back inthree or four days and maybe I’ll learn something.”
“Whatever it is, it’s back in your sandbox,Aclmiral. My people had the wrong man.”
“Your people couldn’t navigate a row boat in theD.C. Reflecting Pool.”
“Can’t blame you for that, Hicky.”
Hickman hung up the phone and resumed hisstandard position when in thought, gazing beyond hispropped-up shoes at the ocean. The sun was trying tobreak through the overcast without much success.
He had never liked Scanlon for reasons too pettyto examine. Except one; he knew Scanlon was a liar.What he had not known was that he was such astupid liar.
Lieutenant David Remington was flattered by thecall. The well-known four-striper had invited him tolunch not only invited him but had apologized forthe lateness of the invitation and told him that it wasperfectly understandable
if it was inconvenient. Further, the captain wantedhim to know that the call was of a personal nature,having nothing to do with naval business. Thehigh-ranking officer, a resident of La Jolla, was inport for only a few days and needed legal advice.He had been told that Lieutenant Remington wasjust about the best lawyer in the United StatesNavy. Would the lieutenant accept?
Of course Remington had made it perfectlyclear that whatever advice he might offer would beoffered on the basis of amicus-amicae; noremuneration could possibly be considered, as thatwould be a violation of Statute . . .
"May I buy you lunch, Lieutenant, or do we haveto split the check?” the four-striper hadasked somewhat impatiently, thought Remington.
The restaurant was high in the hills above LaJolla, an out-of-the-way roadside inn that apparentlycatered to diners of the area and those from SanDiego and University City who did not care to beseen together in the usual places. Remington hadnot been too pleased; he would have preferredbeing seen at the Coronado with the captain thantraveling ten miles north so as no! to be seen in thehills of La Jolla. Nevertheless, the four-striper hadbeen politely adamant) it was where he wanted tomeet. David had checked him out. The muchdecorated captain not only was in line forpromotion but was considered a potential candidatefor the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Remington would haveridden a bicycle on the exposed Alaskan pipeline tokeep the appointment.
Which was exactly what he thought he wasdoing, as he spun the steering wheel right, then left,then right and right again as he made his way upthe steep narrow roads. It was important to keep inmind, he thought, as he whipped the car to the left,that personal advice was nevertheless professionaladvice, and without payment of any sort whatsoever,it constituted a debt that would one day beacknowledged. And if a man was elevated to theJoint Chiefs . . . Remington could not help it: in aglow of self-importance he had let drop to a fellowlegal officer the one who had coined the name“stickler prick” that he was lunching with a highlyregarded four-striper in La Jolla and might be latereturning to the office. Then to drive his pointhome, he had asked his associate for directions.
Oh, my Godl What was it? Oh, my God "
At the apex of the hairpin curve was an enormousblack
rig, thirty feet in length, and out of control. Itweaved right and left on the narrow incline, its speedgathering with every foot, measured in racing yards,a black behemoth swerving, crashing down oneverything in front of it, a wild beast gone mad!
Remington whipped his head to his right as hespun the wheel to avoid impact. There were only thintrunks of young trees and saplings in late-summerbloom; below was a floral abyss. These were the lastimages he saw as the car careened on its side andbegan the plunge.
Far above on another hill a man kneeled,binoculars raised to his face as the explosion belowconfirmed the kill. His expression was one of neitherjoy nor sadness, merely acceptance. A mission hadbeen accomplished. After all, it was war.
And Lieutenant David Remington, whose life wasso ordered and orderly, who knew exactly where hewas going and
how in this world, who knew above allthat he would never be trapped by the forces thathad killed his father in the name of corporate policy,was put to death by the policy of a company he hadnever heard of. An enterprise called Aquitaine. Hehad seen the name Delavane.
Their view is that it’s the pro per evolution ofcurrent history, all other ideologies having failed…. Thewords spoken by Preston Halliday in Geneva keptrepeating themselves in Converse’s inner ear as helistened to the four voices of Aquitaine. Thefrightening thing was that they believed what theysaid without equivocation, morally and intellectually,their convictions rooted in observations going backdecades, their arguments persuasive as theyilluminated past global mistakes of judgment thatresulted in horrible suffering and unnecessary loss oflife.
The simple objective of their comingtogether allies and former enemies alike was tobring benevolent order to a world in chaos, to permitthe industrial states to flourish for the good of allpeople, spreading the strengths and benefits ofmultinational trade to the impoverished,uncommitted Third World and, by so doing, secureits commitment. Only in this way, in this comingtogether, could Communism be stopped stoppedand reversed until it collapsed under the sheer forceof superior armed might and financial resources.
To bring all this about required a shift in values andprior
ities.Industrial decisions everywhere must becoordinated to bring about the total strength of thefree states. Government treasuries, multinationalcorporations and giant conglomerates must look toa stratum of interlocking committees, agree to bedirected by these committees, to accept their deci-sions which would in effect be their respectivegovernments’ decisions each keeping the othersapprised of its current agenda. What was thisultimate stratum of negotiators? Who would be themembers of these committees that would in effectspeak for the free nations and set their policiesP
Throughout history only one class of peopleremained constant in its excellence, who whencalled upon in Ames of crisis performed far beyondhuman expectations even in defeat. The reasons forthis segment’s unique contributions in war andeven in peace, though to a lesser degree were his-torically clear: these men were selfless.. Theybelonged to a class trained to serve without thoughtof reward except for the recognition of excellence.Wealth was irrelevant because their needs werefurnished and perquisites granted only through theoutstanding performance of duty.
The Aquaintaine Progession Page 33
