The Osterman Weekend: A Novel

by Robert Ludlum

  “I was wrong.”

  “She was across the hall …”

  “That wouldn’t make any difference; we went over that with MacAuliff. He agreed. A lot of the blood had dried, congealed. The pup was killed hours ago.”

  “I guess you’re right.” Ali kept picturing Leila with her back pressed against the wall, staring straight ahead, listening to the conversation in the kitchen.

  The clock on the mantel read five-twenty. They had agreed they would sleep in the living room, in front of the study, next to their children.

  At five-thirty the telephone rang. MacAuliff had not found the Tremaynes or the Cardones. He told Tanner that he had decided to put out a missing persons bulletin.

  “They may have decided to go into town, into New York,” said Tanner quickly. A missing persons bulletin might drive Omega underground, prolong the nightmare. “Some of those Village spots stay open. Give them more time. They’re friends, for heaven’s sake!”

  “Can’t agree. No place stays open after four.”

  “They may have decided to go to a hotel.”

  “We’ll know soon enough. Hotels and hospitals are the first places M.P.B.’s go to.”

  Tanner’s mind raced. “You’ve searched the surrounding towns? I know a few private clubs …”

  “So do we. Checked out.”

  Tanner knew he had to think of something. Anything that would give Fassett enough time to control the situation. Fassett’s men were listening on the line, there was no question about that; they’d see the danger instantly.

  “Have you searched the area around the old depot? The one on Lassiter Road?”

  “Who the hell would go out there? What for?”

  “I found my wife and children there on Wednesday. Just a thought.”

  The hint worked. “Call you back,” MacAuliff said. “I’ll check that out.”

  As he hung up the telephone, Ali spoke. “No sign?”

  “No.… Honey, try to get some rest I know of a couple of places—clubs—the police may not know about. I’ll try them, I’ll use the kitchen phone. I don’t want to wake the kids.”

  Fassett answered the phone quickly.

  “It’s Tanner. Do you know what’s happened?”

  “Yes. That was damned good thinking. You’re hired.”

  “That’s the last thing I want. What are you going to do? You can’t have an interstate search.”

  “We know. Cole and Jenkins are in touch. We’ll intercept.”

  “And then what?”

  “There are several alternate moves. I don’t have time to explain. Also, I need this line. Thanks, again.” Fassett hung up.

  “Tried two places,” said Tanner coming back into the living room. “No luck.… Let’s try to get some sleep. They probably found a party and dropped in. Lord knows we’ve done that.”

  “Not in years,” said Ali.

  Both of them pretended to sleep. The tick of the clock was like a metronome, hypnotic, exasperating. Finally, Tanner realized his wife was asleep. He closed his eyes, feeling the heavy weight of his lids, aware of the complete blackness in front of his mind. But his hearing would not rest. At six-forty he heard the sound of a car. It came from in front of his house. Tanner got out of the chair and went quickly to the window. MacAuliff walked up the path, and he was alone. Tanner went out to meet him.

  “My wife’s asleep. I don’t want to wake her.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” said MacAuliff ominously. “My business is with you.”

  “What?”

  “The Cardones and the Tremaynes were rendered unconscious by a massive dose of ether. They were left in their car off the road by the Lassiter depot. Now I want to know why you sent us there. How did you know?”

  Tanner could only stare at MacAuliff in silence.

  “Your answer?”

  “So help me, I didn’t know! I didn’t know anything.… I’ll never forget Wednesday afternoon as long as I live. Neither would you if you were me. The depot just came to mind. I swear it!”

  “It’s one hell of a coincidence, isn’t it?”

  “Look, if I had known I would have told you hours ago! I wouldn’t put my wife through this. For Christ’s sake, be reasonable!”

  MacAuliff looked at him questioningly. Tanner pressed on. “How did it happen? What did they say? Where are they?”

  “They’re down at the Ridge Park Hospital. They won’t be released until tomorrow morning at the earliest.”

  “You must have talked with them.”

  According to Tremayne, MacAuliff said, the four of them had driven down Orchard Drive less than a half mile when they saw a red flare in the road and an automobile parked on the shoulder. A man waved them down; a well-dressed man who looked like any resident of Saddle Valley. Only he wasn’t. He’d been visiting Mends and was on his way back to Westchester. His car had suddenly developed engine trouble and he was stuck. Tremayne offered to drive the man back to his friends’ house, The man accepted.

  That was the last Tremayne and the two wives remembered. Apparently Cardone had been unconscious throughout the incident.

  At the deserted depot the police found an unmarked aerosol can on the floor of Tremayne’s car. It would be examined in the morning, but MacAuliff had no doubt it was ether.

  “There must be a connection with last Wednesday.” said Tanner.

  “It’s the obvious conclusion. Still, anyone who knows this neck of the woods knows that the old depot area is deserted. Especially anyone who read the papers or heard about Wednesday afternoon.”

  “I suppose so. Were they robbed … too?”

  “Not of money, or wallets or jewelry. Tremayne said he was missing some papers from his coat. He was very upset.”

  “Papers?” Tanner remembered the lawyer saying he had left some notes in his jacket. Notes that he might need. “Did he say which papers?”

  “Not directly. He was hysterical—didn’t make too much sense. He kept repeating the name ‘Zurich.’ ”

  John held his breath and, as he had learned to do, tensed the muscles of his stomach, trying with all his strength to suppress his surprise. It was so like Tremayne to arrive with written-down, pertinent data concerning the Zurich accounts. If there had been a confrontation, he was armed with the facts.

  MacAuliff caught Tanner’s reaction, “Does Zurich mean something to you?”

  “No, why should it?”

  “You always answer a question with a question?”

  “At the risk of offending you again, am I being officially questioned?”

  “You certainly are.”

  “Then, no. The name Zurich means nothing to me. I can’t imagine why he’d say it. Of course, his law firm is international.”

  MacAuliff made no attempt to conceal his anger. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll tell you this much. I’m an experienced police officer and I’ve had some of the toughest beats a man can have. When I took this job I gave my word I’d keep this town clean. I meant that.”

  Tanner was tired of him. “I’m sure you did, Captain. I’m sure you always mean what you say.” He turned his back and started for the house.

  It was MacAuliff’s turn to be stunned. The suspect was walking away and there was nothing Saddle Valley’s Police Chief could do about it.

  Tanner stood on his front porch and watched MacAuliff drive off. The sky was brighter but there’d be no sun. The clouds were low, the rain would come, but not for a while.

  No matter. Nothing mattered. It was over for him.

  The covenant was broken now. The contract between John Tanner and Laurence Fassett was void.

  For Fassett’s guarantee had proven false. Omega did not stop with the Tremaynes, the Cardones and the Ostermans. It went beyond the constituency of the weekend.

  He was willing to play—had to play—under Fassett’s rules as long as the other players were the men and women he knew.

  Not now.

  There was someone else now—someone wh
o could stop a car on a dark road in the early morning hours and create terror.

  Someone he didn’t know. He couldn’t accept that.

  Tanner waited until noon before heading towards the woods. The Ostermans had decided to take a nap around eleven-thirty and it was a good time to suggest the same to Ali. They were all exhausted. The children were in the study watching the Saturday morning cartoons.

  He walked casually around the pool, holding a six iron, pretending to practice his swing, but actually observing the windows on the rear of the house: the two children’s rooms and the upstairs bathroom.

  He approached the edge of the woods and lit a cigarette.

  No one acknowledged his presence. There was no sign, nothing but silence from the small forest. Tanner spoke softly.

  “I’d like to reach Fassett. Please answer. It’s an emergency.”

  He swung his golf club as he said the words.

  “I repeat! It’s urgent I talk with Fassett! Someone say where you are!”

  Still no answer.

  Tanner turned, made an improvised gesture toward nothing, and entered the woods. Once in the tall foliage he used his elbows and arms to push deeper into the small forest, toward the tree where Jenkins had gone for the portable radio.

  No one!

  He walked north; kicking, slashing, searching. Finally he reached the road.

  There was no one there! No one was guarding his house! No one was watching the island!

  No one!

  Fassett’s men were gone!

  He raced from the road, skirting the edge of the woods, watching the windows fifty yards away on the front of his house.

  Fassett’s men were gone!

  He ran across the back lawn, rounded the pool and let himself into the kitchen. Once inside he stopped at the sink for breath and turned on the cold water. He splashed it in his face and then stood up and arched his back, trying to find a moment of sanity.

  No one! No one was guarding his house. No one guarding his wife and his children!

  He turned off the water and then decided to let it run slowly, covering whatever footsteps he made. He walked through the kitchen door, hearing the laughter of his children from the study. Going upstairs, he silently turned the knob of his bedroom door. Ali was lying on top of their bed, her bathrobe fallen away, her nightgown rumpled. She was breathing deeply, steadily, asleep.

  He closed the door and listened for any sound from the guest room. There was none.

  He went back down into the kitchen, closed the door and walked through the archway into the small pantry to make sure that, too, was shut.

  He returned to the telephone on the kitchen wall, lifted the receiver. He did not dial.

  “Fassett! If you or any of your men are on this line, cut in and acknowledge! And I mean now!”

  The dial tone continued; Tanner listened for the slightest break in the circuit.

  There was none.

  He dialed the motel. “Room twenty-two, please.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. Room twenty-two is not occupied.”

  “Not occupied? You’re wrong! I spoke to the party at five o’clock this morning!”

  “I’m sorry, sir. They checked out.”

  Tanner replaced the receiver, staring at it in disbelief.

  The New York number! The emergency number!

  He picked up the telephone, trying to keep his hand from trembling.

  The beep of a recording preceded the flat-toned voice.

  “The number you have reached is not in service. Please check the directory for the correct number. This is a recording. The number you have reached …”

  John Tanner closed his eyes. It was inconceivable! Fassett couldn’t be reached! Fassett’s men had disappeared!

  He was alone!

  He tried to think. He had to think. Fassett had to be found! Some gargantuan error had taken place. The cold, professional government man with his myriad ruses and artifices had made some horrible mistake.

  Yet Fassett’s men were gone. Perhaps there was no mistake at all.

  Tanner suddenly remembered that he, too, had resources. There existed for Standard Mutual Network necessary links to certain government agencies. He dialed Connecticut information and got the Greenwich number of Andrew Harrison, head of Standard’s legal department.

  “Hello, Andy?… John Tanner.” He tried to sound as composed as possible. “Sorry as hell to bother you at home but the Asian Bureau just called. There’s a story out of Hong Kong I want to clear.… I’d rather not go into it now, I’ll tell you Monday morning. It may be nothing, but I’d rather check.… I guess C.I.A. would be best. It’s that kind of thing. They’ve cooperated with us before.… Okay, I’ll hold on.” The news editor cupped the telephone under his chin and lit a cigarette. Harrison came back with a number and Tanner wrote it down. “That’s Virginia, isn’t it?… Thanks very much, Andy. I’ll see you Monday morning.”

  Once more he dialed.

  “Central Intelligence. Mr. Andrews’ office.” It was a male voice.

  “My name is Tanner. John Tanner. Director of News for Standard Mutual in New York.”

  “Yes, Mr. Tanner? Are you calling Mr. Andrews?”

  “Yes. Yes, I guess I am.”

  “I’m sorry, he’s not in today. May I help you?”

  “Actually, I’m trying to locate Laurence Fassett.”

  “Who?”

  “Fassett. Laurence Fassett. He’s with your agency. It’s urgent I speak with him. I believe he’s in the New York area.”

  “Is he connected with this department?”

  “I don’t know. I only know he’s with the Central Intelligence Agency. I told you, it’s urgent! An emergency, to be exact!” Tanner was beginning to perspire. This was no time to be talking to a clerk.

  “All right, Mr. Tanner. I’ll check our directory and locate him. Be right back.”

  It was a full two minutes before he returned. The voice was hesitant but very precise.

  “Are you sure you have the right name?”

  “Of course, I am.”

  “I’m sorry, but there’s no Laurence Fassett listed with the switchboard or in any index.”

  “That’s impossible!… Look, I’ve been working with Fassett!… Let me talk with your superior.” Tanner remembered how Fassett, even Jenkins, kept referring to those who had been “cleared” for Omega.

  “I don’t think you understand, Mr. Tanner. This is a priority office. You called for my associate … my subordinate, if you like. My name is Dwight. Mr. Andrews refers decisions of this office to me.”

  “I don’t care who you are! I’m telling you this is an emergency! I think you’d better reach someone in much higher authority than yourself, Mr. Dwight. I can’t put it plainer. That’s all! Do it now! I’ll hold on!”

  “Very well. It may take a few minutes …”

  “I’ll hold.”

  It took seven minutes, an eternity of strain for Tanner, before Dwight returned to the line.

  “Mr. Tanner, I took the liberty of checking your own position so I assume you’re responsible. However, I can assure you you’ve been misled. There’s no Laurence Fassett with the Central Intelligence Agency. There never has been.”

  23

  Tanner hung up the telephone and supported himself on the edge of the sink. He pushed himself off and walked mindlessly out the kitchen door onto the backyard patio. The sky was dark. A breeze rustled the trees and caused ripples on the surface of the pool. There was going to be a storm, thought Tanner, as he looked up at the clouds. A July thunderstorm was closing in.

  Omega was closing in.

  With or without Fassett, Omega was real, that much was clear to Tanner. It was real because he had seen and sensed its power, the force it generated, capable of removing a Laurence Fassett, of manipulating the decisions and the personnel of the country’s prime intelligence agency.

  Tanner knew there was no point trying to reach Jenkins. What had Jenkins said in the li
ving room during the early morning hours?… “If you point at me, I’ll deny everything.…” If Omega could silence Fassett, silencing Jenkins would be like breaking a toy.

  There had to be a starting point, a springboard that could propel him backward through the lies. He didn’t care any longer; it just had to end, his family kept safe. It wasn’t his war any more. His only concern was Ali and the children.

  Tanner saw the figure of Osterman through the kitchen window.

  That was it! Osterman was his point of departure, his break with Omega! He walked quickly back inside.

  Leila sat at the table while Bernie stood by the stove boiling water for coffee.

  “We’re leaving,” Bernie said. “Our bag’s packed; I’ll call for a taxi.”

  “Why?”

  “Something’s terribly wrong,” said Leila, “and it’s none of our business. We’re not involved and we don’t care to be.”

  “That’s what I want to talk to you about. Both of you.”

  Bernie and Leila exchanged looks.

  “Go ahead,” said Bernie.

  “Not here. Outside.”

  “Why outside?”

  “I don’t want Ali to hear.”

  “She’s asleep.”

  “It’s got to be outside.”

  The three of them walked past the pool to the rear of the lawn. Tanner turned and faced them.

  “You don’t have to lie any more. Either of you. I just want my part over with. I’ve stopped caring.” He paused for a moment “I know about Omega.”

  “About what?” asked Leila.

  “Omega … Omega!” Tanner’s voice—his whisper—was pained. “I don’t care! So help me God, I don’t care!”

  “What are you talking about?” Bernie watched the news director, taking a step towards him. Tanner backed away. “What’s the matter?”

  “For God’s sake, don’t do this!”

  “Don’t do what?”

  “I told you! It doesn’t make any difference to me! Just please! Please! Leave Ali and the kids alone. Do whatever you want with me!… Just leave them alone!”

  Leila reached out and put her hand on Tanner’s arm. “You’re hysterical, Johnny. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Tanner looked down at Leila’s hand and blinked back his tears. “How can you do this? Please! Don’t lie any longer. I don’t think I could stand that.”