“Because we could! We knew we could!”
Joel stared at the road ahead, at the rapidlyoncoming curves taken at sixty miles an hour as thetires screeched. Hermione Geyner was not at all whathe had expected, but then nothing was anymore. Shewas so old and it was late at night and she had beenthrough a great deal these last two days; it had tohave taken its toll on her. Old prejudices come to thesurface when very old people are tired. Perhaps inthe morning they could have a clearheadedconversation. The morning it was the start of thesecond day, and Valerie had promised to call him inOsnabruck with news of Sam Abbott and theprogress she was making to reach the pilot. She hadto make that call! Sam had to be told about thestrange language Joel had heard from an old man inAmsterdam, where a word meaning one thing alsomeant something else entirely. Assassination! Cal,call me. For God’s sake, call me!
Converse looked out the window. The minutespassed the countryside was peaceful but the silenceawkward.
“Here we are!” shouted Hermione Geyner,turning crazily into the drive that led to a large oldthree-story house set back off the country road.From what Converse could see, it was a house thathad once had a certain majesty, if only by its sizeand the profusion of roofed windows and gables. Inthe moonlight now, it looked like its owner veryold and frayed.
They walked up the worn wooden steps of theenormous porch and crossed to the door. FrauGeyner knocked rapidly, insistently; in seconds anold woman opened it, nodding solemnly as theywent inside.
“It’s very lovely,” began Joel. “I want you to know “
“Sshh!” Hermione Geyner dropped her car keysin a red laquered bowl on a hall table and held upher hand. “This way!”
Converse followed her to a pair of double doors,she opened them and Joel walked in behind her. Hestopped, confused and astonished. For in front ofthem in the large Victorian room with the subduedlighting was a row of high-backed chairs and seatedin each was an old woman nine old women!Mesmerized, he looked closely at them. Somesmiled weakly, several trembled with age andinfirmity, obviously senile; a few wore stern, intenseexpressions, and one seemed to be humming toherself.
There was an eruption of fragileapplause hands thin and veined, others swollenwith flesh, flesh striking flesh with obvious effort.Two chairs had been placed in front of the women;Valerie’s aunt indicated that they were for Joel andherself. They sat down as the applause dwindled offto silence.
“Meine Schwestern Soldaten,” cried HermioneGeyner rising. “Heute Nacht . . .”
The old woman spoke for nearly ten minutes,interrupted occasionally by scattered applause andexpressions of wonder and respect. Finally she satdown. “lean. Pragen!”
The women one after another began tospeak frail, halting voices for the most part, yetseveral were emphatic, almost hostile. And thenConverse realized that most were looking at him.They were asking him questions, one or twocrossing themselves as they spoke, as if the fugitivethey had saved were actually a priest.
" Come, my friendI”cried Hermione Geyner.“Answer the ladies. They deserve the courtesy ofyour replies.”
“I can’t answer what I can’t understand,”protested Joel quietly.
Suddenly, without any warning, Valerie’s auntrose quickly out of the chair and struck him acrossthe face. “Such evasive tactics will not serve youhere!” she screamed, striking him again, the ring onher finger breaking his skin. “We know youunderstand every word that’s been spoken! Why doyou Czechs and Poles always think you can fool us.You collaborated ! We have proof
The old women began to shout, their lined,contorted faces filled with hate. Converse got to hisfeet; he understood. Hermione Geyner and everyoneelse in that room were mad or senile or both. Theywere living in a violent time that was forty years inthe past.
And then, as if on some demented cue, a dooropened across the room and two men came out. Onein a raincoat had his right hand in his pocket andwas carrying some kind of package in his left. Thesecond man held a topcoat over one arm, no doubtconcealing a weapon. And then a third manappeared, and Joel closed his eyes, pressing themshut tight, the pain in his chest unbearable. The thirdman had a bandage across his forehead and one armin a sling. Converse had caused those wounds; hehad last seen the man in a freight car filled withfrantic animals.
The first man came up to him and held out thepackage, a thick manila envelope with no stamps onthe cover. It was the brief he had sent to NathanSimon in New York.
“General Leifhelm sends you his regards, even hisrespects,” said the man, pronouncing the word“general” with the hard German g
Peter Stone watched as the CIA-approved doctorput the third and final stitch into the corner of theArmy officer’s mouth as the captain sat straining inthe chair.
“The bridge will have to be repaired,” said thedoctor. “I have a man in the laboratory who’d do itin a few hours and a dentist on Seventy-secondStreet, he’ll do the rest. “I’ll call you later when I’vemade the arrangements.”
“Son of a bitch!” roared the captain, as loud ashe could with half his mouth Novocained. “He wasa tank, a tucking black tank! He couldn’t have beenworking for her, he was just a goddamnedcabdriver! Why the hell?”
“Maybe you triggered him,” said Stone, walkingaway as he looked at several pages of notes. “Ithappens.”
“What happens?” yelled the officer.
“Cut it out, Captain. You’ll break the stitches.”The doctor held up a hypodermic needle; it was athreat.
“Okay, okay.” The officer spoke in a softer voice.“What does "trigger’ mean in that esoteric languageof yours?”
“It’s perfectly clear English.” Stone turned to thedoctor. “You know I’m not employed any longer, soyou’d better give me a bill.”
“When you’re in town a dinner will do. The laband the dentist are different, though. I’d suggestcash. And get him out of uniform.”
“Will do.”
“What . . . ?” The captain stopped, seeingStone’s hand held unobtrusively in front of hischest, telling the officer to be quiet.
The doctor put his instruments in the black bagand went to the door. “By the way, Stone,” he saidto the former CIA agent, “thanks for the Albanian.His wife is spending Moscow’s rubles like mad forevery ache I can find a name for.”
“The ache is her husband. He has an apartmentin D.C. she doesn’t know about and some verystrange sex habits.”
“I’ll never tell.”
The doctor left, and Stone turned back to thecaptain. “When you’re with men like that, don’t sayany more than you have to, and that includesquestions. They don’t want to hear and they don’twant to know.”
“Sorry. What did you mean I triggered that hulk?”
“Come on. An attractive woman being chaseddown the street by a beribboned Army officer. Howmany memories black memories do you think areout there with less than fondness for your ilk.”
“ilk? I never thought of myself as an ilk, but Isee what you mean…. You were on the phone whenI got here, and
then there were two other calls. What is it? Any lineon the Converse woman?”
“No.” Stone again looked down at his notes,shuffling the pages. “We can assume she came backto reach someone someone she and her ex-husbandtrust.”
“He knows his way around Washington. Maybesomeone on the Hill, or even in the administration,or State.”
“I don’t think so. If he knew anyone like that andthought his story would get out before his head wasshot off, he would have surfaced days ago.Remember, he’s been tried, convicted, andcondemned. Can you think of anyone in Washingtonwho wouldn’t play it play him strictly by the rules?He’s contaminated. Too many "authoritative sources’have confirmed it, even diagnosed the disease.”
“And by now he’s learned what we foumd outmonths ago. You don’t know where they are or whoyou’re talking to.”
“Or whom they’ve hired,” added Stone. “Or whomthey’ve blackmailed into doing what they wantwithout giving away any trade secrets.” He sat d
ownopposite the Army officer. “But a couple of otherthings have fallen into place. We’re getting a patternand a few additional names. If we could pullConverse out and combine what he’s learned withwhat we’ve got it might just possibly be enough.”
“What?” The captain shot forward in the chair.
“Take it easy. I said just possibly. I’ve beencalling in some old debts, and if we could put it alltogether, there are one or two left I can trust.”
“That’s why we called you in,” said the officerquietly. “Because you know what to do, we don’t….What have you got?”
“To begin with, have you ever heard of an actornamed Caleb Dowling actually, it’s Calvin, butthat’s not important except for the computers.”
“I know who he is. He plays the father on atelevision show called Santa Fe. Don’t shout it fromthe rooftops, but my wife and I watch it now andthen. What about him?”
Stone looked at his watch. “He’ll be here in a fewmix! uses.”
“No kidding? I’m impressed.”
“You may be more impressed after we’ve talked tohim.”
"Jesus, fill me inl”
“It’s one of those odd breaks we all look for thatseem to come out of left field but are perfectlylogical. It’s the timing
that’s not logical…. Dowling was in Bonn filming apicture and struck up a friendship with Peregrine.American celebrity, et cetera. He also met Converseon a plane and got him a hotel room when theywere tough to find. Most significant, Dowling wasthe initial contact between Peregrine and Con-verse which didn’t work out because Fitzpatrickstepped in.’,
“So?”
“When Peregrine was killed, Dowling called theembassy a number of times trying to get anappointment with the acting ambassador, but he wasput on hold. Finally he sent a note to Peregrine’ssecretary saying he had to see her, that it wasimportant. The secretary met with him, and thisDowling dropped a bomb on her lap. Apparently heand Peregrine had an agreement that if Conversecalled the embassy and contact was to be made,Dowling would go along. He didn’t think Peregrinewould go back on his word. Secondly, Peregrine toldDowling that something was rotten in the embassyranks some very odd behavior. One incidentDowling witnessed himself. He said there were toomany things that didn’t make sense fromConverse’s sane and lucid conversations to the factthat he, Dowling, hadn’t been officially questioned,as if people were avoiding one of the last people tosee Converse. The bottom line was that he didn’tthink Converse had anything to do with Peregrine’smurder. The secretary damn near fainted but toldhim he would be contacted. She knew the Agency’sstation chief in Bonn and called him. So did I, twodays ago, telling him I was brought in deep down by
“He confirmed all of this?”
“Yes. He called Dowling in, listened to him, andhas begun digging himself. He’s coming up withnames, one of which we know, but there’ll beothers. I was on the phone with him when you gothere. Dowling flew in yesterday, he’s at the Pierreand will be here by eleven-thirty.”
“That’s movement,” said the captain, nodding.“Any
“Two other things. You know how stymied wewere when Judge Anstett caught it and how strongthe case was made for a mob killing. Hell, weweren’t even sure why Halliday used Anstett in thefirst place. Well, the computer boys at the Armydata banks have come up with the answer. It goesback to October of 1944. Anstett was a legal officerin Brad
fey’s First Army, where Delavane held a battalioncommand. Delavane railroaded a sergeant who’dcracked through a court-martial. The charge wasdesertion under fire, and Colonel Delavane wantedan example both for his own troops and for theGermans, to let the first know they were being led bya ramrod, and the second that they were fightingone. The verdict was guilty, the sentence execution.”
“Oh, my God,” exclaimed the Army officer.“Slovik all over again.”
“Exactly. Except that a lowly lieutenant namedAnstett heard about it and came rolling in with allhis legal barrels smoking. By using psychiatricevaluation reports he not only got the sergeant senthome for treatment but literally turned theproceedings around and put Delavane himself ontrial. Using the same kind of psychologicalevaluations stress mainly he called into questionDelavane’s fitness for command. It damned nearruined an illustrious military career, and would haveif it wasn’t for the colonel’s friends in the WarDepartment. They buried the report so well it wasunder another Delavane’s name and wasn’t pickedup until all the records were computerised in thesixties.”
"That’s one hell of an explanation, Stone.”
“It’s only part of it. It didn’t explain Anstett’skilling itself. And make no mistake, it was the Mafiadown to the man with the gun. “ Stone paused andturned a page. “So there had to be a connectionsomewhere, somehow a link, probably going backyears. The boys with the disks looked further, and Ithink we’ve got it. Guess who was ColonelDelavane’s chief aide in the First Army. No, don’tbother, you couldn’t. He was a Captain Parelli,Mario Alberto Parelli. ”
“Good Christ! The senator?”
“The five-term senator, thirty years in that augustbody. Up-from-the-bootstraps Mario, with a slightpush from the G.I. Bill, some early benefactors anda few lucrative legal retainers.”
“Wow . . .” said the captain softly, withoutenthusiasm, as he leaned back in the chair. “That’sheavy, isn’t it?”
“It’s there. It fits. And I don’t mind telling youthat in “62 and ”63, during the Let’s-get-Fidel days,Parelli was a frequent visitor at the White House,courtesy of both the Kennedy boys.”
“Even in the Senate. He’s one of the biggestcannons on the Hill.”
“While you’re staring, let me give you the lastitem. We’ve found Commander Fitzpatrick.”
“Whatfl”
“At least we know where he is,” completedStone. “As to whether we can bring him out, oreven want to try, that’s another question.”
Valerie got in the cab at McCarran Airport inLas Vegas and gave the driver the address of arestaurant on Route 93 repeated twice by SamAbbott over the phone. The driver, creasing hisforehead, looked at her in his rearview mirror. Valwas used to men scrutinizing her; she was neitherflattered nor annoyed anymore. Frankly, she wasjust bored by the childishness of it all, by thefantasies of grown-up children abusing themselveswith their eyes.
“Are you sure, miss?” asked the driver.
“I beg your pardon?’
“That isn’t a restaurant like I mean arestaurant. It’s a diner, a pit stop for trucks.”
“It’s where I wish to go,’, said Val coolly.
“Sure, okay, fine.” The taxi pulled out into thedeparting traffic.
The driver was right. A half-acre of asphaltsurrounded the long, low, L-shaped diner; a dozenhuge trucks dwarfed the cars, which were parked atrespectful distances from the intimidating rigs. Valpaid the driver and went inside; she looked aroundand walked past the cashier’s counter toward theL-shaped section. Sam had told her he would be inone of the booths m that area.
He was, at the rear of the second aisle. AsValerie approached she looked at the man she hadnot seen in nearly seven years. He had not changedmuch, the brown hair had a fringe of grey aroundthe temples, but the strong, relaxed face was notvery different perhaps the eyes were a littledeeper, a few more lines at the sides and thecheekbones a touch more pronounced. It was abetter face for a portrait now, she thought; thecharacter beneath was emerging. Their eyes met,and the brigadier general got out of the booth, hisclothes denying his rank and profession. He wasdressed in an open sport shirt, tan summer slacksand dark loafers. He was somewhat shorter thanJoel, but not by much. His grey eyes said she was awelcome sight.
“Val. ” Abbott held her briefly, obviously notwanting to call attention to them.
“You look well, Sam,” she said, sitting downacross from him, putting the carry-on beside her.
“You look merely outstanding, which is militaryfor all those other adjectives.” Abbott smiled. it’sfunny, but I come out here a lot because no onep
ays any attention to me, so I thought, hell, it’s theperfect place. I should have remembered you walkthrough that arcade of gorillas and eggs get put inears with coffee spoons.”
"Thanks. I could use some confidence.”
“I could probably use a strong alibi. If someonedoes recognize me, word will go back that thebrigadier’s pulling outside duty.”
“You’re mamed, Sam?”
“Five years ago. Late, but with all the fixings. Alovely bride and two beguiling daughters.”
I’m so happy for you. I hope I get a chance tomeet her, meet them but not this trip. Definitelynot this trip.”
Abbott paused, looking into her eyes, a touch ofsadness in his. Thank you for understanding,” hesaid.
"There’s nothing to understand, or rather, there’severything to understand. The fact that you’re willingto meet me after all that’s happened is more than wehad a right to expect. Both Joel and I know the risksyou’re taking legally, as a general, all of it and ifthere was any other way, we wouldn’t involve you.But after you hear what I have to say, you’ll un-derstand why we can’t wait any longer, why Joelagreed to let me try to find you…. You were myidea, Sam, but Joel wouldn’t have heard of it unlesshe felt he had to not for himself; he doesn’t expectto live. That’s what he said and he believes it.”
A waitress brought coffee and Abbott thankedher. “We’ll order later,” he added, staring at Valerie.You’ll have to trust my judgment, you understandthat, don’t you?”
Yes. Because I trust you.”
“When I couldn’t reach you I made a few calls topeople I worked with a couple of years ago inWashington. They’re men who’re deep into thesekinds of things, who have answers long before mostof us know the questions.”
“Those are the people Joel wants you to reach!”interrupted Val. “You saw him then; you spent anight at his hotel, don’t you remember? He said youboth drank too much.”
“We did,” agreed Sam. “And talked too much.”
“You were evaluating aircraft "equipment,’ Joelcalled it with specialists from various intelligenceunits.”
“That’s right.”
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