The Aquitaine Progression (53 page)

“Yes, I have.”

“Those are the salient facts and the names I can vouch for. There’s a lot more—people in the State Department and the Pentagon, but the lists are in my briefcase and it’s been stolen, or hidden somewhere. I’ll get some rest and start writing out everything I know, then call you in the morning. I have to get out of here. I’m going to need help.”

“I agree, so may I talk now?” said the lawyer in New York in that odd flat voice. “First, where are you, Joel? Look on the phone or read the print on an ashtray—or check the desk; there must be stationery.”

“There’s no desk and the ashtrays are chipped glass.… Wait a minute, I picked up some matches from the bar when I bought cigarettes.” Converse reached into the pocket of the leather jacket and pulled out the book of matches. “Here it is. ‘Riesendrinks.’ ”

“Look below that. My German is limited, but I think it means ‘big drinks’ or something.”

“Oh? Then it must be this. ‘Rosencafé.’ ”

“That sounds more like it. Spell it for me, Joel.”

Converse did, an undefined feeling disturbing him. “Have you got it?” he asked. “Here’s a telephone number.” Joel read off the numbers printed on the cover.

“Good, that’s splendid,” said Talbot. “But before you get off the line—and I know you need rest badly—I have a couple of questions.”

“I would hope to hell you do!”

“When we spoke after that man was hurt in Paris, after that fight you saw in the alley, you told me you were in Amsterdam. You said you were going to fly back to Paris and see René, straighten everything out. Why didn’t you, Joel?”

“For God’s sake, Larry, I just told you what I’ve been through! It took every minute I had to set things up. I was going after these people—this goddamned Aquitaine—and it could only be done one way. I had to work myself in, I couldn’t waste time!”

“That man died. Did you have anything to do with his death?”

“Christ, yes, I killed him! He tried to stop me, they all tried to stop me! They found me in Copenhagen and had me followed. They were waiting for me at the airport here. It was a trap!”

“To stop you from reaching these men, these generals and field marshals?”

“Yes!”

“Yet you just told me these same men invited you to meet with them.”

“I’ll spell it all out for you in the morning,” said Converse wearily, the tension of the last hours—days—culminating in exhaustion and a wracking headache. “By then I’ll have everything
down on paper, but you may have to come over here to get it—and me. The main thing is we’re in touch. You’ve got the names, the overview, and you know where I am. Talk with Nathan, think about everything I’ve said and the three of us will figure out what to do. We have contacts in Washington, but we’ll have to be careful. We don’t know who’s with whom. But there’s a plus here. Some of the material I have—I
had
—could only have come from people down there. One view is that I was set in motion by them, that men I don’t know are watching every move I make because I’m doing what they can’t do.”

“By yourself,” said Talbot, agreeing. “Without Washington’s help. Without their help.”

“That’s right. They can’t show themselves; they have to stay in the background until I bring out something concrete. That was the plan. When you and Nathan talk, if you have questions call me. I’m just going to lie down for an hour or so anyway.”

“I’ve got another question now, if you don’t mind. You know Interpol has an international warrant for you.”

“I do.”

“And the American embassy is looking for you.”

“I know that, too.”

“I was told that word reached you to come into the embassy.”

“You were told?”

“Why haven’t you done it, Joel?”

“Jesus, I
can’t!
Don’t you think I would if I
could?
The place is crawling with Delavane’s people. Well, that’s an exaggeration, but I know of three. I saw them.”

“It’s my understanding that Ambassador Peregrine himself got word to you, guaranteeing you protection, confidentiality. Wasn’t that enough?”

“Your
understanding
…” The answer is
no!
Peregrine hasn’t any idea what he’s got inside that place. Or maybe he does. I saw Leifhelm’s car go through those gates like he had a lifetime pass. At three o’clock in the morning. Leifhelm’s a Nazi, Larry, he’s never been anything else! So what does that make Peregrine?”

“Come on, Joel. You’re maligning a man by implication who doesn’t deserve it. Walter Peregrine was one of the heroes of Bastogne. His command at the Battle of the Bulge is
a legend of the war. And he was a reserve officer, not part of the regular Army. I doubt that Nazis are his favorite guests.”

“His command? Another
commander?
Then maybe he knows
exactly
what he’s got in that embassy!”

“That’s not fair. His outspoken criticisms of the Pentagon are a documented part of his postwar career. He’s called them megalomaniacs with too damn much money feeding their egos at the taxpayers’ expense. No, you’re not being fair, Joel. I think you should listen to him. Call him on the phone, talk to him.”

“Not being fair?” said Converse softly, the undefined feeling coming into focus, now a warning. “Wait a minute! You’re the one who’s not being fair. ‘
I
was told’ … ‘It’s
my
understanding?’ What oracle have you been in touch with? Who’s imparting these pearls of wisdom about me? On what basis and where from?”

“All right, Joel, all right, calm down. Yes, I have talked to people—people who want to help you. A man is dead in Paris, and now you say there’s another in Bonn. You talk of scouts and patrols and those horrible chemicals, and how you ran through the woods and had to hide in the river. Don’t you understand, son? Nobody’s blaming you or even holding you responsible. Something happened; you’re living it all over again.”

“My God!” broke in Converse, stunned. “You don’t believe a word I’ve
said!
”

“You believe it, and that’s all that matters. I saw my share in North Africa and Italy, but nothing to compare with what you went through later. You have a deep, understandable hatred for war and all things military. You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t, not with the suffering you experienced and the terrible things you endured.”

“Larry, everything I’ve told you is
true!
”

“Fine, splendid. Then reach Peregrine, go to the embassy and tell them. They’ll listen to you.
He’ll
listen.”

“Are you denser than I
think?
” shouted Joel. “I just told you, I can’t! I’d never get to
see
Peregrine! I’d get my head blown away!”

“I spoke to your wife—sorry, your ex-wife. She said you’d have these moments at night.…”

“You spoke to
Val?
You brought
her
into this! Christ, are you out of your
mind?
Don’t you know they trace everyone
down?
It was right under your nose, counselor!
Lucas Anstett!
Stay away from her! Stay away or I’ll—I’ll—”

“You’ll what, son?” asked Talbot quietly. “Kill me, too?”

“Oh,
Jesus!
”

“Do as I say, Joel. Call Peregrine. Everything will be all right.”

Suddenly Converse heard an odd sound over the line, odd in context but one he had heard hundreds of times before. It was a short buzz, barely significant but there was significance to it. It was Lawrence Talbot’s courteous signal to his secretary to come into his office and pick up a revised letter or a corrected brief or a dictation tape. Joel knew what it was now. The address of a seedy hotel in Bonn.

“All right, Larry,” he said, feigning an exhaustion that was all too real. “I’m so
damned
tired. Let me lie down for a while and maybe I will call the embassy. Maybe I should get in touch with Peregrine. Everything’s so confused.”

“That’s the way, son. Everything’s going to be fine now. Just splendid.”

“Good-bye, Larry.”

“Good-bye for now, Joel. See you in a couple of days.”

Converse slammed down the phone and looked around the dimly lit room. What was he checking for? He had come with nothing and he would leave with nothing but what was on his back—what he had stolen. And he had to leave quickly. He had to run. In minutes men would be speeding in cars from the embassy, and at least one of those men would have a gun and a bullet meant for him!

What in hell was
happening
to him? The truth was a fantasy bolstered by lies, and the lies were his only means of survival.
Insanity!

He ran past the elevator to the staircase, descending the steps two and three at a time, his hand on the iron railing as he lurched around the landings, and reached the lobby door four stories below. He swung it open, suddenly gripping the
edge and slowing his pace so as not to call attention to himself. He need not have been concerned. The small band of people milling about in front of the benches against the wall and wandering around the warm tile floor were the neighborhood elderly, looking for nightly companionship, and a few drunks walking in and out of the neon-lit door to the noisy café. Oh,
Christ!
His mind was in a frenzy. He could walk around in the night, hiding in alleys, but a lone man in unfamiliar streets was too easily spotted by unofficial hunters or by the official police. He had to get inside somewhere, somehow. Out of sight.

The café! His Samaritans! He pulled up the collar of the leather jacket and forced the belt of the trousers lower, inching down the gap around his ankles. He then approached the door casually, feigning a slight stagger as he pushed it open. He was greeted by floating levels of smoke—not all of it tobacco, by any means—and adjusted his stinging eyes to the erratically flashing lights as he tried to block out the offending noise, a combination of guttural roars and disco music blaring from high-tech speakers. His Good Samaritans were gone: he looked for the young blond girl as his focal point, but she was not there. The table they had occupied was taken by another foursome—no, not four different people, only three, who had joined the English-speaking student who had sat beside him in the car. The three were young men who seemed also to be students. Joel approached them, and passing an empty chair in his path, he gripped the back and unobtrusively pulled it behind him to the table. He sat down and smiled at the blond-haired student.

“I didn’t know if I’d left enough money for those twelve beers I promised,” he said pleasantly.

“
Ach!
I was just talking about you,
Herr Amerikaner!
These are my friends—like me, all dreadful students!” The three newcomers were introduced rapidly, the names lost in the music and the smoke. Everyone nodded; the American was welcome.

“Our other two friends left?”

“I told you,” shouted the blond youngster through the noise. “They wished to drive to our house and make love. That’s all they
do!
Our parents went to Bayreuth for the music festival, so they shall make their own music on
her
bed and I shall come home late!”

“Nice arrangement,” said Converse, trying to think of
how to broach the subject that had to be broached quickly. He had very little time.

“Very
good
, sir!” said a dark-haired young man on his right. “Hans would have missed that; his English is understandably inferior. I was an exchange student in the state of Massachusetts for two years. ‘Arrangement’ is also a musical term. You combined the two!
Very
good, sir!”

“I keep trying,” said Joel aimlessly, looking at the student. “You really speak English?” he asked sincerely.

“Very well. My scholarship depends upon it. My friends here are good people, make no mistake, but they are rich and come here for amusement. As a boy, I lived two streets away from this place. But they protect the lads here, and why not? Let them have fun; nobody is hurt and money is spread.”

“You’re sober,” said Converse, the statement bordering on a question.

The young man laughed as he nodded. “Tonight, yes. Tomorrow afternoon I have a difficult exam and need a clear head. The summer-session examinations are the worst. The professors would rather be on holiday.”

“I was going to talk to
him
,” said Joel, nodding at the blond student, who was arguing with his two companions, his hands waving in the smoke, his voice strident. “But that doesn’t make sense. You do.”

“In
what
sense, sir, if you will forgive the redundancy of the expression?”

“ ‘Redundancy’? What’s your major?”

“Preliminary law, sir.”

“I don’t need that.”

“It is a difficulty, sir?”

“Not for me. Listen, I haven’t much time and I have a problem. I have to get out of here. I need to find another place to stay—just until tomorrow morning. I assure you I’ve done nothing wrong, nothing illegal—in case my clothes or my appearance gives another impression. It’s strictly a personal matter. Can you help me?”

The dark-haired young German hesitated, as if reluctant to answer, but nevertheless did so, leaning forward to be heard. “Since you bring up the subject, I’m sure you can understand that it would not be seemly for a student of the law to help a man under questionable circumstances.”

“That’s exactly why I brought it up,” said Converse rapidly, speaking into the student’s ear. “I’m an attorney and under
these clothes a reasonably respectable one. I simply took on the wrong American client over here and can’t wait to get a plane out tomorrow morning.”

The young man listened, studied Joel’s face and nodded. “Then these are not lodgings you would normally seek?”

“To be avoided wherever possible. I just thought it would be a good idea to be inconspicuous for the night.”

“There are very few places such as this in Bonn, sir.”

“To Bonn’s credit, counselor.” Glancing about the café and its predominant clientele, Converse had another thought. “It’s summer!” he said urgently to the student through the bedlam. “Are there any youth hostels around here?”

“Those in the vicinity of Bonn or Cologne are filled, sir, mostly with Americans and the Dutch. The others which might have spaces are quite far north toward Hanover. However, there is another solution, I think.”