The Aquaintaine Progession

by Ludlum, Robert

  “Cleanly, you mean. Swiftly. No Dachau, noAuschwitz.”

  “You have the gun.”

  “I thought you had so much to offer.”

  “My successor has been chosen carefully. He willcarry out details, every nuance of my agenda.

  The opening was there, a strategy suddenlyrevealed. Joel pushed the /outton

  “Your successor?”

  "ha. “

  “You have no successor, Field Marshal.”

  “What?”

  “Any more than you have an agenda. You don’thave anything without me. It’s why I brought youhere. Just you.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Sit down, General. I’ve several things to tellyou, and for your own sake you’d better be seated.Your own execution might be more preferable toyou than what I’ve got to say “

  “Liar!” screamed Erich Leifhelm four minuteslater, his hands gripping the arms of the brocadedchair. “Liar, liar liar!” he roared.

  “I didn’t expect you to believe me,” said Joelcalmly standing in the middle of the spacious,book-lined study “Cali Bertholdier in Paris .md tellhim you just heard some dlsturbing news and you’dlike a clarification. Say it outright, you’ve learnedthat while you were in Essen, Bertholdier andAbrahms came to see me at your place in Bonn.”

  “How would I know that?”

  “The truth. They paid a guard to open thedoor I don’t know which one, I didn’t seehim but a guard did unlock the door and let themin.”

  “Because they believed you were an informer,sent out by Delavane, himself?”

  “That’s what they told me.”

  “You were drugged! There were no suchindications!”

  “They were suspicious. They didn’t know thedoctor and they didn’t trust the Englishman. I don’thave to tell you they don’t trust you. They thoughtthe whole thing might be a hoax. They wanted tocover themselves.”

  “Incredible!”

  “Not when you think about it,” said Converse,sitting down opposite the German. “How did I reallyget the information I had? How did I know theexact people to reach except through Delavane?That was their thinking.”

  “That Delavane would do this could do it?”began the astonished Leifhelm.

  “I know what that means now,” interrupted Joelquickly seizing on the new opening presented him.“Delavane’s finished, they both admitted it whenthey understood he was the

  last person on earth I’d work for. Maybe they werethrowing me a few crumbs before setting me up formy own execution.”

  “That had to be done!” exclaimed the ThirdReich’s once youngest field marshal. "Certainly youcan understand. Who were you? Where did you comefrom? You yourself did not know. You spoke ofinconsequential names and lists and a great deal ofmoney but nothing that made sense. Who hadpenetrated us? Since we could not find out, you hadto be turned into a pariah. Into something rotten. Athing of rot no one would touch.”

  “You did it very well.”

  “For that I must take credit,” said LeifLelm,nodding. “It was essentially my organization.Everything was mine.”

  “I didn’t bring you here to discuss yourachievements. I brought you here to save my life.You can do that for me the people who sent meout either can’t or won’t but you can. All I have todo is give you a reason.”

  “By implying that Abrahms and Bertholdierconspire against me?”

  “I won’t imply anything, I’ll give it to you straightin their own words. Remember, neither one of themthought I’d leave your place except as a corpseconveniently shot in the vicinity of some particularlygruesome assassination.” Suddenly Converse got outof the chair, shaking his head. “No!” he said em-phatically. “Call your trusted French and Israeliallies, your fellow Aquitainians. Say anything youlike, just listen to their voices you’ll be able to tell.It takes an accomplished liar to spot other liars, andyou’re the best.”

  “I find that offensive.”

  “Oddly enough, I meant it as a compliment. It’swhy I reached you. I think you’re going to be thewinner over here and after what I’ve been through Iwant to go with a winner.’

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Oh, come on, let’s be honest. Abrahms is hated;he’s insulted everyone in Europe, the U.K. and theU.S. who doesn’t agree with his expansionist policiesfor Israel. Even his own countrymen can’t shut himup. All they can do is censure him and he keeps onscreaming. He’d never be tolerated in any kind ofinternational federation.”

  The Nazi quickly, repeatedly shook his head.“Never!” he shouted. “He is the most loathsome manto come out of the Middle East. And, of course, he’saJew. But how is Bertholdier to be equated in thismanner?”

  Joel paused before answering. “His manner,” hereplied thoughtfully. “He’s imperious, arrogant. Hesees himself not only as a great military figure anda history-making power broker, but also as somesort of god, above other men. There’s no room onhis Olympus for mortals. Also he’s French. TheEnglish and the Americans wouldn’t give him spit:one De Gaulle in a century is enough for them.”

  “There’s clarity in your thoughts. He’s the sort ofabominable egotist only the French can suffer. Heis, of course, a reflection of the entire country.”

  “Van Headmer doesn’t count except where hecan bring South Africa around for raw materials.”

  “Agreed,” said the German.

  “But you, on the other hand,” Converse went onrapidly again sitting down, “worked with theAmericans and the English in Berlin and Vienna.You helped implement occupation policies, and ingood conscience you turned over evidence to boththe U.S. and the U.K. prosecution teams inNuremberg. Finally, you became Bonn’s spokesmanin NATO. Whatever you were in the past, they likeyou.” Again Joel paused, and when he continuedthere was a degree of deference in his voice.“Therefore, General, you’re the winner, and you cansave my life. All you need is a reason.”

  “Then give it to me.”

  “Use the phone first.”

  “Don’t be an idiot and don’t take me for one!You would not insist so unless you were sure ofyourself, which means you are telling the truth. Andif those Schweine conspire against me, I will notinform them that I’m aware of it! What did they

  “You’re to be killed. They can’t risk theaccusation that an old-line member of the Naziparty has assumed vital controls in West Germany.Even under Aquitaine there’d be too many criesof’Foul!’ too much fuel for the inevitable dissent-ers. A younger man or someone who thinks likethey do, but with no party affiliations in his past,will take your place. But no one you recommend.”

  Leifhelm was braced rigidly in the brocadedchair, his aged but still taut body immobile, hispallid face with the piercing light-blue eyes like analabaster mask. “They have made this most holydecision?” he said icily through lips that barelymoved. “The vulgar Jew and the depraved Frenchprince of maggots dare to attempt such a moveagainst me?”

  “Not that it matters, but Delavane agrees.”

  “Delavane! A raging, infantile clump of fantasies!The man we knew two years ago has disintegrated toa point beyond senility! He doesn’t know it, but wegive him orders, couched naturally as suggestionsand beneficial possibilities. He has no more powersof reason than Adolf Hitler had in his last years ofmadness.”

  “I don t know about that,” said Converse."Abrahmsand Bertholdier didn’t go into it other thanto say he was finished. They talked about you.”

  “Really? Well, let me talk about me! Who do youthink it was that made Aquituine feasible throughoutall Europe and the Mediterranean? Who fed theterrorists with weapons and millions of pounds ofexplosives from the Baader-Meinhof to the BrigateRosse to the Palestinians priming them for theirfinal, let’s say their {nest, hours? Who? It was l! Whyare our conferences always in Bonn? Why are alldirectives funneled, ultimately issued, through me?Let me explain. I have the organisation! I have themanpower dedicated men ready to do my biddingwith a single order. I have the money! I created anadvanced, highly sophisticated commun
icationscanter out of rubble, no one else in Europe couldhave done that this I’ve known all along.Bertholdier has nothing to speak of in Paris otherthan influence and the aura that hovers abouthim in true battle, meaningless. The Jew and theSouth African are a continent away. When the chaoscomes, it is I who will be the voice of Aquitaine inEurope. I never thought otherwise! My men will cutdown Bertholdier and Abrahms at their toilets!”

  “Scharhorn’s the communications center, isn’t it?”asked Joel with no emphasis whatsoever.

  “They told you that?”

  “The name was dropped. The master list ofAquitaine’s in a computer there, isn’t it?”

  “That, also?”

  “It’s not important. I don’t care anymore. I wasabandoned, remember? You must have figured outthe computer, too no one else could. "

  “A considerable accomplishment,” admittedLeifhelm, his humility shining brightly on his waxenface. “I even prepared for the catastrophe of death.There are sixteen letters we each carry different setsof four, the remaining twelve are with the leglessmaniac. He thinks no one can activate the

  codes without his primary set, but in truth apre-coded combination of two sequences doubledwill do it.”

  "That’s ingenious,’ said Converse. Do the othersknow?”

  "Only my trusted French comrade,” answeredthe German coldly. “The prince of traitors,Bertholdier. But, naturally, I never gave him theaccurate combination, and an inaccurate insertionwould erase everything.”

  “That was a winner thinking.” Joel noddedapprovingly, then frowned with concern. “Whatwould happen, though, if your center wasassaulted?”

  “Like Hitler’s plans for the bunker, it would goup in flames. There are explosives everywhere.”

  “I see.”

  “But since you speak of winners, and in myjudgment such men are prophets,” continuedLeifhelm, leaning forward in the chair, his eyeswidening with enthusiasm, “let me tell you about theisle of Scharhorn. Years ago, in 1945, out of theashes of defeat, it was to be the site of the mostincredible creation designed by true believers theworld has ever known, only to be aborted bycowards and traitors. It was called OperationSonnenkinder the children of the sun infantsbiologically selected and sent out all over the worldto people waiting for them, prepared to guide themthrough their lives to positions of power and wealth.As adults, the Sonnenkinder were to have but onemission across the globe. The rising of the FourthReich! You see now the symbolic choice ofScharhorn? From this inner complex of Aquitainewill come forth the new order! We will have done it!”

  " Stow it,” said Converse, getting out of the chairand walking away from Erich Leifhelm. Theexamination s finished.”

  "What?”

  “You heard me, get out of here. You make mesick. ”The door opened, and the young doctor fromBonn came in, his eyes on the once celebrated fieldmarshal. Strip him,’ ordered Converse. “Search him.

  Joel entered the dimly lit room where Valerieand the Surete s Prudhomme flanked a man behinda video camera mounted on a tripod. The thick lensof the camera was inserted in the wall and ten feetaway was a television monitor,

  which showed only the deserted study, with thebrocaded wing chair in the center of the screen.

  “Everything go all right?” he asked.

  “Beautifully,” said Valerie. “The operator didn’tunderstand a word, but he claimed the lighting wasexquisite. Au bel nature!, he called it. He can makeas many copies as you like; they’ll take aboutthirty-five minutes each.”

  “Ten and the original print will be enough,” saidConverse, looking at his watch, then at Prudhommeas Val spoke quietly in French to the cameraman.“You can take the first copy and skill make the fiveo’clock flight to Washington.”

  “With the greatest of enthusiasm, my friend. Iassume one of these prints will be for Paris.”

  “And every other head of government along withour affidavits. You’ll bring back copies of thedepositions Simon took in New York?”

  “I’ll go make arrangements,” said Prudhomme. “Itis best my name does not appear on the passengermanifest.” He turned and left the room, followed bythe cameraman, who headed for his duplicatingequipment down the hall.

  Valerie went to Joel, and taking his face in bothher hands, she kissed him lightly on the lips. “For afew minutes in their you had me in knots. I didn’tthink you were going to make it.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “But you did. That was some display, mister. I’mso very proud of you, my darling.”

  " A lot of lawyerstll cringe. It was the worst sortof entrapment. As an old, bewildering, but verybright law professor of mine would have put it, theywere admissions elicited on the basis of falsestatements, those same admissions forming the basisof further entrapment.”

  “Stow it, Converse. Let’s go for a walk. We usedto walk a lot, and I’d like to get back in the habit.It’s not much fun alone.”

  Joel took her in his arms. They kissed, gently atfirst, feeling the warmth and the comfort that hadcome back to them. He pulled his head away, hishands sliding to her shoulders, and looked into herwide, vibrant eyes. “Will you marry me, Mrs.Converse?” he said.

  “Good Lord, again? Well, why not? As you saidonce before, I wouldn’t even have to change theinitials on my lingerie.

  “You never had initials on it.”

  “You found that out long before you made theremark.”

  “I didn’t want you to think I stared.”

  “Yes, my darling, I’ll marry you. But first wehave things to do. Even before our walk.”

  “I know. Peter Stone by way of the Tabana familyin Charlotte, North Carolina. He did terrible thingsto me, but strange as it seems, I think I like him.”

  “I don’t,” said Valerie firmly. “I want to kill him.”

  It was the end of the second day in thecountdown of three. The worldwide demonstrationsagainst nuclear war were only ten hours away, tostart at the first light halfway across the world. Thekillings would begin, setting the chaos in mobon.

  The group of eighteen men and five women satscattered about in the dark projection room in theunderground strategy complex of the White House.Each had a small writing tray attached to his seatwith a yellow pad lighted by a Tensor lamp. On thescreen was flashed in thirty-second intervals one faceafter another, each with a number in the upperright-hand corner. The instructions had been terse, inthe language best understood by these people, anddelivered by Peter Stone who had selected them.Study the faces, make no audible comments, and markdown by number any you recognise, bearing in mindterminal operations. At the end of the series the lightswill be turned on and we’ll talk. And, if need be, runthe series again and again until we come up withsomething Remember, we believe these men are killers.Concentrate on that.

  They were told nothing else. Except M.1.6’sDerek Belamy, who had arrived within a half-hour ofthe extraordinary session, looking haggard from hisobviously exhausting journey. When Derek walkedthrough the door, Peter had pulled him aside andeach gripped the other’s arms. Stone was never sohappy or so relieved in his life to see any man.Whatever

  he might have missed, or could miss, Belamy wouldfind it. The British agent had a tenth sense aboveanyone else’s sixth, including Peter’s, which, ofcourse, was denied modestly by Derek.

  “I need you, old friend,’ said Peter. “I need youbadly.”

  “It’s why I’m here, old friend,” replied Belamywarmly. Can you tell me anything?”

  “There’s no time now, but I can give you a name.Delavane.

  “Mad Marcus?”

  “The same. It’s his crisis and it’s real.”

  “The bastard!” whispered the Englishman.“There’s no one I’d rather see at the end of abarbed-wire rope. Talk to you later, Peter. You’vegot your socialising do. Incidentally, from what I cansee, you’ve got the best here tonight.”

  “The best, Derek. We can’t afford any less.”

  Beyond the American military personnel who hadinitially approached Stone
, as well as Colonel AlanMetcalf, Nathan Simon, Justice Andrew Wellfleetand the Secretary of State, the remaining audiencewas composed of the most experienced and secureintelligence officers Peter Stone had known in alifetime of clandestine operations. They had beenflown over by military transport from France, CreatBritain, West Germany, Israel, Spain and theNetherlands. Among them were, besides theextraordinary Derek Belamy, Frangois Villard, chiefof France’s highly secretive Organisation Etrangere;Yosef Behrens, the Mossad’s leading authority onterrorism; Pablo Amandarez, Madrid’s specialist inKCB Mediterranean penetrations, and HansVonmeer of the Netherlands’ secret state police. Theothers, including the women, were equally respectedin the caverns of deep-cover, beyond-salvageoperations. They knew by name, face or reputahonthe legions of killers for hire, killers by order, andkillers by reason of ideology. Above all, each wastrusted, each a man or woman Stone had workedwithi collectively they were the elite of the shadowworld.

  A face! He knew the face! It stayed on the screenand he wrote on his pad: “Dobbins. Number 57.Cecil or Cyril Dobbins. British Army. Transferred toBritish Intelligence. Personal aide to . . . DerekBelamy!”

  Stone looked over at his friend across the aisle,fully expecting him to be writing on his yellow pad.Instead, the Englishman frowned and sat motionlessin his chair, his pencil

  poised above the paper. The next face appeared onthe screen. And the next, and the next, until theseries was over. The lights came on, and the firstperson to speak was the Mossad’s Yosef Behrens.“Number seventeen is an artillery officer in the IDFrecently transferred to the Security Branch, Jeru-salem. His name is Arnold.”

  “Number thirty-eight,” said Francois Villard, " isa colonel in the French Army attached to the guardof Invalides. It is the face; the name I do notrecall.”

  "Number twenty-six,” said the man from Bonn,“is Oberleutnant Ernst Muller of the FederalRepublic’s Luftwaffe. He is a highly skilled pilotfrequently assigned to fly ministers of state toconferences both within and without WestCermany.”

  “Number forty-four,” said a dark-skinned womanwith a pronounced Hispanic accent, “has no suchcredentials as your candidates. He is a drug dealer,suspected of many killings and operates out of Iviza.He was once a paratrooper. Name Orejo.”