The Apocalypse Watch (21 page)

“I’m flying to Paris in the morning. I’ll see my brother, and also someone I’m very fond of, Gerhardt. The widow of a man I worked with covering East Berlin. I’m quite excited about seeing her again. She’ll meet me at the airport, the diplomatic complex, in an embassy car.”

“Your brother can’t meet you, Alex?”

“No.…
Wait!
Alex’s brother?”

“Never mind,” said the gray-faced visitor quickly. “The brother you speak of, where is he?”

“It’s off the books. They tried to kill him.”

“Who tried to kill him?”

“You know.
They
did … we did.”

“Tomorrow morning, the diplomatic complex. That’s De Gaulle airport, right?”

“Yes. Our ETA is ten o’clock.”

“Fine, Alex. Have a splendid reunion with your brother and the woman you find so attractive.”

“Oh, it’s more than her looks, Gerhardt. She’s extraordinarily intelligent, a scholar actually.”

“I’m sure she is, for my friend Lassiter is a deep man with many facets. We’ll talk again, Alex.”

“Where are you going, where
are
you?”

“They’re beeping me for the O.R. I have to operate.”

“Yes, of course. You’ll call again?”

“Certainly.” The visitor wearing steel-rimmed glasses leaned forward over the edge of the coffee table; he continued quietly, firmly, staring into Latham’s neutral eyes. “Remember, old friend, respect the wishes of your guest from Washington. He’s under orders. Forget his name, which you just read on his identification. It’s authentic, that’s all you really care about.”

“Sure. Orders are orders, even when they’re stupid.”

Half rising, the “guest” reached over and took the ID case out of Harry’s limp left hand. He opened it, sat back down on the couch, and picked up the pocket watch from the small, low table. He pressed the crown, holding it in place until he saw Latham’s eyes coming back into focus, saw him blinking, suddenly aware of his surroundings, his face again firm, the muscles of his chin taut. “
There
,” said the visitor, loudly snapping the ID case shut, “so now that you know I’m legitimate, photograph and all, just call me Peter.”

“Yes … authentic. I still don’t understand … Peter. All right, you’re a ghost, but why? Who’s not secure on the tribunal?”

“Mine not to wonder why or who, I’m just the unseen presence that talks to you.… My word, I think that’s a rhyme.”

“A bad one, but never mind. How could any of them be questioned?”

“Maybe they’re not, individually, but others were brought in, weren’t they?”

“A gaggle of clowns, yes. They didn’t want to examine the names I brought out. They just wanted to clear a lot of them before the microscopes are activated—less work and less chance of stepping on the toes of big feet.”

“What do you think of the names?”

“What I think doesn’t
matter
, Peter. Naturally, a number of them strike me as preposterous, but I was at the source, a trusted confidant until I escaped. I was a major contributor, a believer in their cause, so why would they feed me dirt?”

“The rumor is that the Nazis, the new Nazis, may have known who you were from the beginning.”

“That’s not a ‘rumor,’ that’ll be their
credo
. What the hell would we do, and how often did we do it, when we found a mole or a turnaround who fled to Mother Russia after looting us? Of course we proclaimed how smart we were, how deep-efficient, and how useless was the information stolen from us—when it wasn’t.”

“It’s a conundrum, isn’t it?”

“What isn’t in this business? Right now, for my own sanity, if you like, I have to purge Alexander Lassiter from my psyche. I have to be Harry Latham again; my job is finished. Let others take over.”

“I agree with you, Harry. Also my time’s up. Please, remember my orders. We didn’t meet tonight.… Don’t blame me, blame Washington.”

The visitor walked up the hallway to the elevators. He took the first one available and descended a single floor, then went down the corridor to his own suite, directly below Latham’s. Inside, on the desk, was an arrangement of electronic equipment. He crossed to it, pressed several
buttons rewinding a tape, and confirmed its accuracy. He picked up the telephone and dialed Mettmach, Germany.

“Wolf’s Lair,” said the quiet voice over the line.

“It’s Catbird.”

“Introduce your impediment, please.”

“At once.” The man who called himself Peter delicately pulled a thin wire out of his equipment, its tip attached to a razor-sharp alligator clamp, and rotated it around the telephone cord until there was a momentary burst of static on the line. “The metrometer indicates clearance, how so there?”

“Clear. Go ahead.”

“
Catbird, if I remember correctly
,” began the tape recording. The resident below Harry Latham’s suite played it to the finish. “
I agree with you, Harry.… Don’t blame me, blame Washington
.”

“What’s your assessment?” asked Latham’s visitor.

“It’s dangerous,” said Gerhardt Kroeger in Germany. “Like most deep-cover operatives, he’s subconsciously crossing over from one identity to another. It’s in his own words: ‘I have to purge Alexander Lassiter from my psyche.’ He was Lassiter too long, and he’s fighting back to be himself. It’s not an uncommon occurrence, the dual persona becoming a dual personality.”

“He’s accomplished what you wanted him to do in a matter of two days. The list itself was sufficient to put our enemies into a collective state of shock. They don’t want to believe his information, they’re very vocal about that, but they’re also frightened to deny it. I can take him out with a single shot in the hallway. Shall I?”

“It would lend credence to the list of names, but no, not yet. His brother is closing in on the trail of that senile tramp, Jodelle, and it could be catastrophic for us. As much as it tortures me not to follow up on my patient’s progress, the movement comes first and I must make the sacrifice. Alexander Lassiter will lead us to the other interfering Latham. Kill them both.”

“It won’t be difficult. We have Lassiter’s itinerary.”

“Follow it, follow them, and leave nothing but corpses. Jodelle’s resurrected son, the actor, will be next, then all
traces to the Loire Valley will be dust, as it is with the Hausruck.”

Harry Latham and Karin de Vries held each other as close brothers and sisters do after having been parted for a very long time. Their chatter, at first, was garbled, each excitedly telling the other how marvelous it was to be together again. Karin then clutched his arm, steering them both toward the diplomatic lounge, where Harry was processed rapidly, then out to the restricted parking area thick with uniformed guards, a number holding the leashes of various dogs trained to ferret out such items as narcotics and explosive devices. The car was a nondescript black Renault, indistinguishable from several thousand others on the streets of Paris. De Vries climbed behind the wheel while Harry got into the passenger seat.

“We don’t rate a driver?” asked Latham.

“Let’s say we’re not permitted to have one,” replied Karin. “Your brother is under the protection of the Antinayous, remember them?”

“Most emphatically—from the other night to be precise; they were waiting for me. I pretended not to understand a word my contact said in the truck because it would have involved an explanation that could lead to Freddie, and by extension, you.”

“You needn’t have feared. I’ve been working with them since my last year in The Hague.”

“It’s
so
good to see you,” said Harry, his voice filled with emotion, “to hear you.”

“I feel the same way, old friend. Since I learned the Brüderschaft knew about you, I’ve been so terribly worried—”

“They
knew
about me?” Latham interrupted sharply, his eyes wide, bulging in astonishment. “You’re not serious!”

“Nobody’s told you?”

“How could they? It’s not
true
.”

“It is, Harry. I explained to Drew how I found out.”

“
You?
”

“I assumed your brother had passed on the information.”

“Christ, I can’t
think
! Latham brought both his hands to his temples, pressing harshly, his eyes tightly closed, the crow’s-feet emphasized.

“What is it, Harry?”

“I don’t know, there’s a dreadful pain—”

“You’ve been through so much, so long. We’ll get you to a doctor.”

“
No
. I’m Alexander Lassiter—I
was
Alexander Lassiter, that’s
all
I was to them.”

“I’m afraid not, my dear.” Karin glanced at her old friend, suddenly alarmed. There was a dark red circle on his left temple; it seemed to throb. “I brought your favorite brandy so we could celebrate, Harry. It’s in the glove compartment. Open it and have some. It’ll calm you down.”

“They
couldn’t
have known,” choked Latham, with trembling fingers opening the glove compartment and pulling out the pint of brandy. “You don’t know what you’re
saying
.”

“Perhaps I was wrong,” said De Vries, now frightened. “Have a drink and relax. “We’re meeting Drew at an old country inn on the outskirts of Villejuif. The Antinayous wouldn’t permit us to meet at the safe house. Calm
down
, Harry.”

“Yes, yes, I will, because, my dear—my dearest Karin—you
are
wrong. My brother will tell you, Gerhardt Kroeger will tell you, I’m Alex Lassiter, I
was
Alex Lassiter!”

“Gerhardt
Kroeger
?” asked a bewildered De Vries. “Who’s Gerhardt Kroeger?”

“A goddamned Nazi … also a superb doctor.”

“In fifteen or twenty minutes we’ll be at the inn where your brother is waiting for us.… Let’s talk about the old days in Amsterdam, my old friend. Do you remember the night Freddie came home half soused and insisted on playing your American game of Monopoly?”

“Good God, yes. He threw out a handful of diamonds and said we should use them instead of the paper money.”

“And the time you and I drank wine and listened to Mozart until it was almost dawn.”

“Do I?” cried Latham, swallowing brandy and laughing, his eyes, however, not bright with laughter, but dark, glaring. “Freddie came out of your bedroom and made it plain that he preferred Elvis Presley. We threw pillows at him.”

“And that morning in the café on the Herengracht when you and I told Freddie he could not jump into the canal to make a point about pollution?”

“He was going to do it, my dear—my
dearest
Karin. I swear he was.”

The harmless badinage covered the remaining minutes until De Vries turned into the graveled parking area of the rundown country inn, country but barely out of the city, flanked by overgrown fields, isolated, and not really inviting. The meeting between the brothers was as warm, although warmer on the younger’s part, as the welcoming embrace between Harry and Karin. The difference was in the older brother; there was surface ebullience, but a chill underneath. It was unexpected, not natural.

“Hey, big bro, how did you
do
it?” exclaimed Drew as the three of them sat in a booth, De Vries on Harry’s side. “I’ve got a legend for a brother!”

“Because Alexander Lassiter was a person. It’s the only way it could be done.”

“Well, you sure pulled it off—at least up to a point, enough to get you there.”

“You’re talking about what Karin told you?”

“Well, yes—”

“
Untrue
. Totally false!”

“Harry, I said I could be wrong.”

“You
are
wrong.”

“Okay, Harry, okay.” Drew held up both hands, palms forward. “So she’s wrong, it happens to be what she heard.”

“Bastard sources, illegitimate, no confirmation.”

“We’re on your side, bro, you know that.” The younger brother looked at De Vries, his expression questioning, disturbed.

“Alexander Lassiter was
real
,” said Harry emphatically, wincing as he raised his left hand to his temple, rubbing it in circles. “Ask Gerhardt Kroeger,
he’ll
tell you.”

“Who is—”

“Never mind,” Karin broke in, shaking her head, “he’s a fine doctor, your brother explained that to me.”

“How about to me, bro? Who’s this Kroeger?”

“You’d really like to know, wouldn’t you?”

“Is it a secret, Harry?”

“Lassiter can tell you, I don’t think I should.”

“For Christ’s sake, what the hell are you talking about? You’re Lassiter, Harry
Latham
is Lassiter. Cut the bullshit, Harry.”

“I hurt, oh, God, I hurt. Something’s wrong with me.”

“What is it, dear Harry?”

“ ‘Dear Harry’? Do you know how much that means to me? Have you any idea how much I love you,
adore
you, Karin?”

“And I adore you, Harry,” said De Vries, suddenly finding the older Latham crying and falling into her chest. “You know I do.”

“I love you so much, so
very
much!” went on the semihysterical, babbling Harry as Karin cradled him in her arms. “But I
hurt
so—”

“Oh, my
God
,” said Drew softly, watching the astonishing sight across the table.

“We have to get him to a doctor,” said De Vries, whispering. “He began this in the car.”

“You’re damned right,” agreed Drew. “A head doctor. He was in deep cover too long.
Jesus!
”

“Call the embassy, get an ambulance. I’ll stay with him.”

The younger Latham got up from the booth just as two men carrying weapons came rushing through the entrance, both in stocking masks. The target and the kill were apparent. “Get
down
!” he shouted, pulling his gun from his hip holster and firing before the assassins had adjusted to the dim light. He took out the first killer and lunged behind the freestanding bar as the second man raced forward, his automatic weapon on rapid fire. Drew stood up,
squeezing the trigger repeatedly, emptying his magazine. The second assassin fell as the few scattered customers ran hysterically out the front door. Latham rushed from behind his worthless barrier. Karin de Vries was on the floor, her left hand still gripping his brother’s arm; she had tried to drag him with her. She was alive, her right hand bloodied, but she was alive! But Harry Latham was dead, his head blown apart, a horrible mass of blood and white tissue, what was left of his brain in fragments, half out of his skull. Drew, his mouth stretched in dread, shut his eyes in terror, then forced them open as he plunged his hands into his dead brother’s pockets, pulling out his billfold and all other papers that could lead to his identity.
Why?
He was not sure, he just knew he had to do it.