The Apocalypse Watch (16 page)

The Deuxième—
Moreau
? Was it possible? By asking Moreau for additional personal security, was he signing his own death warrant? Despite all his instincts, and regardless of his convictions about the man, was Harry’s list that accurate? He could not
believe
it—it was crazy! Or was it?

The maître d’ returned to the table carrying the portable phone. It was barely seven
A.M
. in Washington, and before the director of Consular Operations began his morning, one Drew Latham needed guidance.

“Press the button marked
Parlez
and dial, monsieur,” said the maître d’. “Should you require additional calls, touch
Finis
, then again press
Parlez
and dial.” He handed Drew the phone and walked away. Latham touched the button marked
Parlez
, dialed, and within moments an alert voice answered.

“Yes?”

“Paris calling—”

“I thought you might,” Sorenson broke in. “Has Harry arrived? You can talk, we’re on scrambler.”

“He’s not due until tomorrow at the earliest.”

“Dammit!”

“Then you know? About the information he brought out, I mean.”

“I do, but I’m surprised
you
do. Brother or no, Harry’s not the type who’s free with classified data, and I do mean classified to the maximum.”

“Harry didn’t tell me anything. It was Courtland.”

“The ambassador? I find that incredible. He’s a good man, but he’s not in this loop.”

“He had to be included. Bonn’s ambassador broke the seals, pretty angrily as I understand it, over four possibles in his own government.”

“What the hell is going
on
?” shouted Sorenson. “This is all supposed to be kept in a deep tank until decisions are made!”

“Somebody jumped the gun,” said Drew. “The sprinters began running before the starter’s pistol was fired.”

“Have you any idea what you’re
saying
?”

“Oh, yes, I certainly do.”

“Then, goddammit, tell me! I have a meeting at ten o’clock with the Secretary of State and the DCI—”

“Be careful what you say,” interrupted Latham rapidly.

“What in God’s name does
that
mean?”

“The Agency’s AA-Zero computers were compromised. The Brüderschaft—that’s the name the neos call themselves—knew all about Harry’s operation. Code Sting, objectives, even the projected time of his mission—two years plus. It was all picked up from Langley.”

“This is shit-kicking
nuts
!” roared the director of Cons-Op. “How did you find out?”

“From a woman named De Vries, whose husband was Harry’s runner in the old East Berlin. He was killed by the Stasi, and she’s on our side. She works at the embassy now, and says she has a few scores to terminate. I believe her.”

“Can you be certain?”

“Nothing’s in cement, but I think so.”

“What does Moreau think?”

“Moreau?”

“Yes, of course. Claude Moreau, the Deuxième.”

“I thought you had Harry’s list.”

“So?”

“He’s on it. I was ordered not to tell him anything.”

Following a short gasp, the silence from Washington was electrifying. Finally, Sorenson spoke quietly, ominously. “Who gave you that order? Courtland?”

“Presumably relayed from on high.… Wait a minute. You
have
Harry’s list—”

“I have
a
list that was sent to me.”

“Then you’ve got Moreau’s name. Did you miss it?”

“No, because it’s not there.”

“
What …?
”

“It was understood that for maximum security, certain names were ‘selectively withheld.’ ”

“From
you
?”

“Those were the words.”

“They’re bullshit!”

“Yes, I know.”

“Can you think of a reason—
any
reason?”

“I’m trying to, believe me.… Among the upper echelons it’s common knowledge that Moreau and I worked closely together—”

“Yes, you mentioned Istanbul—”

“That was our last posting; there were others. We were a good team and whenever it was feasible, the analysts in Washington and Paris paired us.”

“Would that be reason enough to exclude him from your list?”

“Possibly,” replied the director of Cons-Op, now barely audible. “The argument could be made, but not convincingly. You see, he saved my life in Istanbul.”

“We all try to do that kind of thing if we’re in a position to, usually on the assumption that the favor might be returned someday.”

“That’s why it’s not a convincing argument. Still, a bond is indelibly formed, isn’t it?”

“Within limits and depending on the circumstances.”

“Well said.”

“It’s axiomatic.… I’m to reach Moreau this afternoon. There’s a lead on a rental car our actor picked up playing secret agent. What should I do?”

“Normally,” began Sorenson, “even abnormally, I’d consider Claude’s name on that list to be ludicrous.”

“Agreed,” interrupted Latham.

“Yet Harry brought it out. The fact that he’s your brother notwithstanding—”

“Again axiomatic,” Drew broke in curtly.

“I find it extremely difficult to believe Harry could be fooled, and turned is out of the question.”

“Again—agreed,” mumbled Latham.

“So where are we? If your woman friend is genuine, the Agency’s been penetrated, and there’s obviously someone in either French intelligence or our own who spotted Moreau’s name and by extension doesn’t trust me.”

“
That’s
ludicrous!” said Drew, raising his voice and
instantly lowering it as heads turned at several tables in front of his booth.

“It’s a hell of a shock, I’ll say that much.”

“I’m going to call Harry in London. Tell him our thoughts.”

“He’s sequestered.”

“Not to me. When he was fourteen and I was eight, to get away from me and read one of his goddamned books, he climbed a tree and got stuck. I said I’d rescue him if he promised never to avoid me again—he was kind of a wimp about climbing down, you know what I mean?”

“On such oaths are the secrets of the world nullified. If you reach him, for God’s sake, call me back. If you can’t—and it sticks in my craw to say it—follow the ambassador’s order. Cooperate with Claude, but keep silent.”

Drew pressed the button marked
Finis
, touched the
Parlez
, and dialed. The operator at the Gloucester hotel in London, after repeated rings, observed that Mr. Wendell Moss was not in his room. Latham left a simple message. “Call Paris. Keep calling.” And Karin de Vries arrived, practically racing between the tables.

“Thank God you’re here!” she cried, sitting down quickly, her words whispered, intense. “It’s all over the street and the embassy’s in an uproar. A French government car was attacked by terrorists below us in the Gabriel!” Karin abruptly stopped, aware of the blank look in Drew’s eyes. She frowned in silence, her lips forming the word
you
. He nodded; she continued. “You’ve got to get out of Paris, out of
France
! Go back to Washington.”

“Take my word for it—better yet, take your own—I’m no less a target over there than I am here. Maybe an easier one.

“But three times they’ve tried to kill you in the space of two days!”

“Try thirty-five hours, I’ve been counting.”

“You can’t stay here, they
know
you.”

“They know me better in Washington. I might even have a welcoming committee I’d rather not meet. Besides, Harry’s going to call me and I’ve got to see him, talk to him. I
have
to.”

“He’s the reason you have the phone?”

“He and someone else. Someone in D.C. I trust—I have to trust. My boss, in fact.” A waiter arrived and De Vries ordered a Chardonnay. The aproned man nodded and was about to leave, when Latham held up the portable phone for him.

“Not yet,” interrupted Karin, reaching over and touching Drew’s outstretched arm. The waiter shrugged and left. “Forgive me, but you may have overlooked a problem or two.”

“That’s entirely possible. As you’ve pointed out, I’ve been shot at three times in less than two days. Discounting strenuous field training, where they used dyed pellets, that’s roughly one half of all the weapons fired at me in my entire career. What did I forget? I still remember my name. Ralph, isn’t it?”

“Don’t try to be funny.”

“What the hell’s left? For your edification, my automatic is on my lap, and if my eyes stray now and then, it’s because I’m prepared to use it.”

“There are police all over the Gabriel; no terrorist would chance a kill under the circumstances.”

“You’re well versed in the language.”

“I was married to a man who was both shot at and shot more times than he could remember.”

“And I forgot. The Stasi. Sorry. What was your point?”

“Where is Harry calling you?”

“My office or the Meurice.”

“I submit that it would be foolish for you to return to either.”

“You may have half a point.”

“Grant me a full one. I’m right and you know it.”

“Granted,” said Latham reluctantly. “There are crowds in the streets, a weapon could be inches from me and I’d never know it. And if the CIA’s been penetrated, the embassy’s child’s play. So?”

“Your superior in Washington. How did you explain the attack in the Gabriel? What protection did he advise?”

“He didn’t because I didn’t tell him. It’s one of those
things you talk about later.… He’s got a bigger problem,
much
bigger than any event I survived.”

“Are you really so charitable, Monsieur Latham?” asked Karin.

“Not at all, Madame de Vries. Things are coming so fast, and the problem we both face so great, I didn’t want his head overburdened.”

“Can you tell me about this problem?”

“I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you asked.”

Karin de Vries leaned back against the banquette and raised the wine to her lips. “You still don’t trust me, do you?” she said softly.

“We’re talking about my life, lady, and a spreading lethal fungus that scares the hell out of me. It should scare the hell out of the whole civilized world.”

“You’re speaking from a distance, Drew. I’m speaking from the immediate, ‘close up’ as you Americans say.”

“It’s
war
!” whispered Latham, the whisper guttural, his eyes on fire. “Don’t give me abstractions!”

“I gave you my
husband
in this war!” said Karin, bolting forward. “What more do you want from me? What more for your trust?”

“Why do you want it so badly?”

“For the simplest reason of all, the one I explained to you last night. I watched a beautiful man destroyed by a hatred he could not control. It consumed him and for months, even years, I couldn’t understand, and then I did. He was
right
! A putrid cloud of horror was rising over Germany, the East more than the West actually—‘one evil monolith for another; they thirst for screeching leaders for they’ll never change’ was the way Freddie expressed it. And he
was
right!” Emotionally spent, her closed eyes forming tears, De Vries lowered her whisper. “He was tortured and killed because he had found the truth,” she finished in a monotone.

Found the truth
. Drew studied the woman across the table, remembering how elated he had been when he had found the truth about Villier’s father, old Jodelle. And
then how frightened he was
because
it was the truth. The parallel lines of his and Karin’s response to revealed facts could not be falsified. They were beyond lying to themselves, certainly beyond concealing the anger each felt, for it was too genuine.

“Okay, okay,” Latham said, briefly covering her clenched hands with his free left one. “I’ll tell you what I can without specific names, which may come later … depending on the circumstances.”

“I accept that. It’s part of the drill, isn’t it? Beware the chemicals.”

“Yes.” Drew’s eyes wandered rapidly, widely, toward the entrance and the surrounding tables, his right hand out of sight. “The key is Villier’s father, his natural father—”

“Villier the
actor
? The newspaper stories … the old man who killed himself in the
theater
?”

“I’ll fill you in later, but for now assume the worst. The old man
was
Villier’s father, a Résistance fighter found out by the Germans and driven insane in the camps years ago.”

“There was a notice in the early afternoon papers!” said De Vries, unclenching her hands and grabbing his left. “He’s closing the play, the revival of
Coriolanus
.”

“That’s stupid!” spat out Latham. “Did they say
why
?”

“Something about that old man and how disturbed Villier was—”

“
More
than stupid,” broke in Latham. “It’s goddamned grotesque! He’s as big a target as I am now!”

“I don’t understand.”

“There’s no way you could, and in a crazy way it’s all tied in with my brother.”

“With
Harry
?”

“Intelligence files about Jodelle—that’s Villier’s father—were removed from the Agency’s archives—”

“As in the AA-Zero computers?” asked Karin, interrupting.

“Every bit as secure, believe me. In those files was the name of a French general who wasn’t simply turned by the
Nazis, he became one of them, a fanatically devoted convert consumed by the cause of the master race.”

“What can he matter now? A general so many years ago—he’s undoubtedly dead.”

“He may be, or he may not be, it’s irrelevant. It’s what he set in motion, what’s going on now. An organization here in France that’s brokering millions from all over the world into the neos in Germany. The same thing that brought you to Paris, Karin.”

De Vries again leaned back in the booth, removing her hand from his, her eyes wide, staring at him in bewilderment. “What has any of this to do with Harry?” she asked.

“My brother brought out a list of names, how many I don’t know, of neo sympathizers here in France, the U.K., and in my own country. I gather it’s explosive, men and women of influence, even political power, that no one would ever suspect of such leanings.”