A male voice intruded. “You bastards,” said JoelConverse.
“Thank God!” said the civilian, sitting down on thehotel bed. “Now we can talk. We have to talk. Tellme everything you can. This phone is clean.”
Twenty minutes later, his hands trembling, PeterStone hung up the phone.
General Jacques-Louis Bertholdier ceased therushing pelvic thrusts of intercourse, withdrew himselffrom the moaning dark-haired woman beneath him,and rolled over, grabbing the telephone.
“Yesfl”he shouted angrily. And then he listened,his flushed face growing ashen as his organ collapsed.“Where did it happen?” he whispered, not inconfidence but in sudden fear. “The BoulevardRaspail? The charges? . . . NarcoticsPlmpossible!”
Holding the phone, the general swung his legsover the side of the bed, listening carefully,concentrating as he stared at the wall. The nakedwoman rose to her knees and leaned into him, herbreasts pressed into his back, her open mouthcaressing his ear, her teeth gently biting his lobe.
Bertholdier suddenly, viciously, swung his armback cracking the phone into the woman’s face,sending her reeling to the other side of the bed,blood erupting from her broken lower lip.
“Repeat that, please,” he said into the phone. “It’sobvious, then, isn’t it? The man cannot be questionedfurther, can he? There is always the larger strategy toconsider, losses to be anticipated in the field, no? Itis the hospital all over again, I’m afraid. See to it,then, like the fine officer you are. The Legion’s losswas our immense gain…. Oh? What is it? The ar-resting officer was PruHhomme?” Bertholdier paused,his breathing steady and audible; then he spoke,rendering a command decision. “A stubbornbureaucrat from the Surete will not let go, will he? .. . He is your second assignment to
be carried out with your usual expertise before theday is over. Call me when both areaccomplishments, and consider yourself the aide toGeneral Jacques-Louis Bertholdier.”
The general hung up and turned to thedark-haired woman, who was wiping her lips with abed sheet, the expression in her eyes an admixtureof anger, embarrassment and fear.
“Apologies, my dear,” he said courteously. “Butyou must leave now. I have telephone calls to make,business to attend to.
“I will not come back!” cried the woman defiantly.
“You will come back,” said the legend of Francestanding up, his body rigid in its nakedness. “If youare asked.”
Erich Leifhelm walked rapidly into his study anddirectly over to the large desk, where he took thephone from a whitejacketed attendant, dismissingthe man with a nod. The instant the door wasclosed he spoke. “What is it?”
“The Geyner car was found, Herr General.”
“Where?”
“Appenweier.”
"And what is that?”
“A town fifteen or eighteen kilometers from Kehl.In the
“Strasbourg! He crossed into France! He was apriest!”
“I don’t understand, Herr “
“We never thought. . . ! Never mind! Whom haveyou got in the sector?”
“Only one man. The man with the police.”
“Tell him to hire others. Send them into Strasbourg!Look
“Get out of here!” roared Chaim Abrahms as hiswife walked through the kitchen door. “This is noplace for you now!”
“The Testaments say otherwise, myhusband yet not my husband,” said the frail womandressed in black; a circle of soft white hair framedgentle features and her brown eyes were dark,receding mirrors. “Will you deny the Bible youemploy so readily when it suits you? It is not allthunder and vengeance. Must I read it to you?”
“Read nothing! Say nothing! These are matters formen!”
“Men who kill? Men who use the primitive savageryof
the Scriptures to justify the spilling of children’sblood? My son’s blood? I wonder what the mothersof the Masada would have said had they beenpermitted to speak their hearts. . . . Well, I speaknow, General. You will not kill anymore. You will notuse this house to move your armies of death, to plotyour tactics of death always your holy tactics,Chaim, your holy vengeance.”
Abrahms slowly got out of the chair. “What areyou talking about?”
“You think I haven’t heard you? Phone calls inthe middle of the night, calls from men who soundlike you, who speak of killing so easily “
“You listened !”
“Several times. You were breathing so hard youheard nothing but the sound of your own voice, yourown orders to kill. Whatever you’re doing will bedone without you now, my husband yet not myhusband. The killing is over for you. It lost itspurpose years ago, but you could not stop. You in-vented new reasons until there was no reason left inyou.”
The sabre’s wife removed her right hand fromthe folds of her black dress. She was holdingAbrahms’ service automatic. The soldier slapped hisholster in disbelief, then suddenly lunged toward thewoman he had lived with for thirty-eight years andgrabbed her wrist, spinning her around. She wouldnot relent! She resisted him, clawing at his face as hecrashed her back into the wall, twisting her hand inthe attempt to disarm her.
The sound of the explosion filled the kitchen, andthe woman who had borne him four children, thelast finally a son fell to the floor at his feet. Inhorror Chaim Abrahms looked down. Herdark-brown eyes were wide, her black dress drenchedwith blood, half her chest torn away.
The telephone rang. Abrahms ran to the wall andgrabbed it, screaming, “The children of Abraham willnot be denied! A bloodbath will follow we will havethe land delivered to us by God! Judea,Samaria they are ours!”
“Stop it!” roared the voice over the line. “Stop it,Jew!”
“Who calls me Jew calls me righteous!” yelledChaim Abrahms, the tears falling down his face, ashe stared at the dead woman with the wide browneyes. “I have sacrificed with Abraham! No one couldask more!”
“I ask more!” came the cry of the cat. “I askalways morel”
“Marcus?” whispered the sabre, closing his eyesand collapsing against the wall, turning away fromthe corpse. “Is it you . . . my leader, my conscience?Is it you?”
“It is I, Chaim, my friend. We have to move fast.Are the units in place?”
“Yes. Scharhorn. Twelve units in place, alltrained, prepared. Death is no consideration.”
“That’s what I had to know, " said Delavane.
".Theyawait your codes, my general.” Abrahmsgasped then began to weep uncontrollably.
“What is it, Chaim? Get hold of yourselfl”
“She’s dead. My wife lies dead at my feetI”
“My God, what happened?”
“She overheard, she listened . . she tried to killme. We fought and she’s dead.”
“A terrible, terrible loss, my dear friend. Youhave my deepest affection and condolences iri yourbereavement.”
“Thank you, Marcus.”
“You know what you must do, don’t you, Chairn?”
“Yes, Marcus. I know.”
There was a knock at the door. Stone got out ofthe chair and picked up his gun awkwardly from thetable. In all the years of sorting out garbage, he hadfired a weapon only once He had blown a foot offa KGB informant in Istanbul for the simple reasonthat the man had been exposed while drunk and hadlunged at him with a knife. That one incident wasenough. Stone did not like guns.
“Yes?” he said, the automatic at his side.
“Aurelius,” replied the voice behind the door.
Stone opened it and greeted his visitor “Metcalf?”
“Come in. And I think we’d better change the code.”
“I suppose I could use "Aquitaine’,” said theintelligence officer, walking into the room.
“Somehow I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Somehow I don’t think I will. Do you have coffee?”
“I’ll get some. You look exhausted.”
“I ve looked better on a beach in Hawaii,” saidthe slender, muscular middle-aged Air Force man.He was dressed in summer slacks and a white Izodjacket, and his
thin face matched his short, thinningbrown hair; dark circles were prominent under hisclear authoritative eyes. “At nine o’clock
yesterday morning I drove south out of Las Vegas toHalloran, and from there I began a series ofcross-country flights a computer couldn’t follow,hopping from airport to airport under more namesthan I can remember.”
"You’re a frightened man,” said the civilian.
lf you’re not, I’m talking to the wrong person.”
I’m not only frightened, Colonel, I’m petrified.”Stone went to the phone, ordered coffee, and beforehanging up he turned to Metcalf. "Would you like adrink?” he asked.
I would. Canadian on the rocks, please.”
"I envy you.” The civilian gave the order, andboth men sat down; for several moments only thesounds of the street outside broke the silence. Theylooked at each other, neither concealing the fact thathe was silently evaluating the other.
“You know who and what I am,” said theColonel. "Who are you? What?”
“CIA. Twenty-nine years. Station chief inLondon, Athens, Istanbul, and points east and north.A once disciple of Angleton and coordinator ofclandestine operations until I was fired. Anythingelse?”
“No.”
“Whatever you did to your answering machine,you did it right. The Converse woman called.”
Metcalf shot forward in the chair. “And?”
“It was touch and go for a while I wasn’t at mybest but he finally got on the line, or I should sayhe finally spoke. He was there all the time.”
“Your second best must have been pretty good.”
“All he wanted to hear was the truth. It wasn’t hard.”
“Where is he? Where are they?”
“The Alps, that’s all he’d say “
"Goddamn it!”
” for now,” completed the civilian. “He wantssomething from me first.”
“What?”
“Affidavits. You could call them depositions.”
“What9″
“You heard me. Affidavits from myself and thepeople I’m working with working for,actually stating what we know and what we did.”
“He’s out to hang you, and I don’t blame him.”
“That’s part of it, and I don’t blame him, either,but he says it’s secondary and I believe that. Hewants Aquitaine. He
wants Delavane and his crowd of maniacs nailed tothe wall before the whole damn thingerupts before the killing begins.”
"That was Sam Abbott’s judgment. Thekilling multiple assassinations, here andthroughout Europe, the quickest and surest way tointernational chaos.”
" The woman told him.”
“No, he pieced it together from things Conversetold her. Converse didn’t understand the words.”
“He does now,” said Stone. “Did I say I waspetrified? What’s a stronger phrase?”
“Whatever it is, it applies to both of us becausewe both know how simple it would be so sim pie.We’re not dealing with woolly-brained crazies oreven your run-of-the-mill terrorists we’ve got thirtyyears’ experience and ninety percent of them are inour computers. When the signals break out, weknow where they are and usually we can stop them.But here we’re dealing with the roughestprofessionals in our own and in allied ranks, alsowith years of experience. They’re walking aroundthe Pentagon, and on Army and Navy bases and atan Air Force base in Nevada. Christ, where arethey? You open your mouth and you don’t knowwhom you’re talking to, who’ll cut you down orprogram an aircraft to break apart in the sky. Howcan we stop what we can’t see?”
“Perhaps Converse’s way.”
“With Affidavits:”
“Maybe. Incidentally, he wants one from you.Your meeting with Abbott, everything he told you,as well as your evaluation of his mental capacitiesand stability. That means you’ll have to stay heretonight. A half-hour ago I reserved three otherrooms I said I’d give the front desk the nameslater.”
“Would you mind answering my question? Whatthe hell are affidavits going to do? We’re dealingwith an army out there how large and howwidespread we don’t know but it is an army! Atminimum, a couple of battalions, here and inEurope. Professional officers trained to carry outorders, believing in those orders and in the generalswho are issuing them. Affidavits, depositions, forChrist’s sake! Is this some kind of flaky legalhandspring that doesn’t mean anything? Do we havetime for this?”
“You’re not thinking anything I didn’t think,Colonel. But then, I’m not a lawyer and neither areyou. Converse is, and I had a long conversation withhim. He’s taking the only route
he knows. The legal route. Oddly enough, it’s why wesent him out.”
“Give me an answer, Stone ” said Metcalf coldly.
“Protection,” replied Stone. "What Converse wantsis instant protection and for all of us to be takenseriously. Not as psychopaths or as cranks or aspeople with mental aberrations or diminishedcapacities I think those were his words.”
“Aren’t they nice? What in the name of sweetJesus do they mean? How?”
“With formal legal documents. Responsible mensetting forth what they know and, in the case ofdepositions, under qualified examination. Throughthe courts, Colonel. A court it only takes one, onlyone judge. On the basis of the affidavits a petition ismade to the court a court, a judge that protectionbe given under seal.”
“Under what?”
“Under seal. It’s completely confidential nopress, no divulging of information, simply an orderfrom the court transmitted to the authorities mostsuited to carry out the order. In this case, all thebranches of the Secret Service instructed by the courtto provide extraordinary service.”
“Extraordinary? For whom?”
“The President of the United States, theVice-President, the Speaker of the House, theSecretary of Defense, the Secretary of State righton down the line. The law, Colonel. That’s what thelaw can do also his words, I think.”
“Jesus/”
There was a rapping on the door. This timeStone covered his automatic with the folded NewYork Times. He got up and admitted a waiter, whorolled in a table with a pot of coffee, two cups, abottle of Canadian whisky, ice and glasses. He signedthe bill and the man left.
“Coffee or a drink first?” asked Stone.
“My God, a drink. Please.”
“I envy you.”
“You’re not going to join me?”
“Sorry, I can’t. I allow myself one in the evening;I’ll join you then. You live in Las Vegas, so you’llunderstand. I’m trying to beat the odds, Colonel. Iintend to beat them. I was fired, remember?” Stonebrought the Air Force officer a drink and sat down.
“You can’t beat the odds, don’t you know that?”
“I’ve beaten a few. I’m still here.”
“The courts,” said Metcalf, shaking his head. “Acourt! It’s an end run. He’s using the law to goaround the flanks of the government people heshould reach but whom he can’t trust. Can it work?”
“It buys time, a few days perhaps, it’s hard totell. "Under seal’ lasts only so long. The law alsocalls for full disclosure. But what’s most importantis that it legitimately tightens the security aroundpotential targets, hopefully screwing up whatevertactics Aquitaine is mounting, forcing the generalsto regroup, rethink. Again time.”
“But that’s only over here in the States.”
“Yes. That’s why Converse wants the time.”
“What for?”
“He won’t tell me, and I’m in no position tomake demands.”
“I see,” said the Colonel, his drink to his lips.
“You said three rooms. Who are the others?”
“You’ll meet them and you won’t like them.They’re two kids who stumbled into this along witha few others I don’t know, and they won’t say whothey are. After Halliday reached them or one ofthem they provided the dossiers for Converse.They’re young, but they’re all right, Colonel. If Iever had a son, I’d like to think he’d be one ofthem.”
“I have a son and
I expect he would be,” saidMetcalf. “Otherwise, I blew it. What are theprocedures?”
Stone sat rigidly back in the chair and spokeslowly, his voice pitched to the static emphasis of amonotone. He was repeating instructions not of hisown making and certainly not to his liking. “At threeo’clock this afternoon I’m to call an attorney namedSimon, Nathan Simon, one of the senior partners ofConverse’s firm here in New York. Presumably bythen Converse’s wife will have reached him, tellinghim to expect a call from me and to please do as Iask apparently they believe he will. To be briefabout it, Simon will come over here to the hotelaccompanied by a stenographer and take all ourdepositions, along with our credentials, ranks, andcurrent responsibilities. He’ll stay until he’sfinished.”
“You were right on the phone,” interrupted themilitary man. “We’re dead.”
“I said as much to Converse and he asked mehow it felt. He was inquiring, of course, fromfirsthand knowledge.”
“He wants all of you.”
“But not you,” said Stone. “He’d like your testimo
ny and, by extension, Abbott’s but he won’t insiston it. He knows he can’t ask you to walk in on this.”
"I walked in when that plane went down. Alsothere’s something else. If we can’t stop Delavane andhis generals, what the hell’s left for people like us?.. . Converse wouldn’t tell you what he was going todo?”
"Not in terms of what he calls the countdown, butyes, as far as tomorrow is concerned. He’s sendingover his own affidavit and, he expects, another froma man from the Surete who has information showingthat most of the official reports out of Paris arelies…. And we’re not dead yet, Colonel. Conversemade it clear that Nathan Simon was the bestattorney we could have as long as he believes us.”
"What can a lawyer do?”
“I asked Converse the same thing, and he gaveme a strange answer. He said, "He can use the law,because the law isn’t men, it’s the law.’”
“That’s beyond me,” said Metcalf, irritated. “Notin a philosophical context but how it appliesnow right goddamned now! . . . Hell, it doesn’tmake any difference we don’t make any difference!Once those guns go off and the bodies fall inWashington and London, Paris or Bonn wher-ever they’ve got the controls and we won’t get themback. I know that because I know how long so manypeople have wanted someone to take control. Stopthe carnage, make things safe, piss on the Soviets.God help me, there were times I thought that waymyself.”
The Aquaintaine Progession Page 71
