the Saint-Tropez of the Aegean.
Converse had taken the first Swissair flight out of
Geneva to Athens, and from there a smaller Olympic
plane to the island. Although he had lost an hour in
the time zones, it was barely four o’clock in the
afternoon when the airport taxi
40 ROBERT LUDLUM
crawled through the streets of the hot, blinding-white
harbor and pulled up in front of the smooth white
entrance of the bank. It was on the waterfront, and
the crowds of flowered shirts and wild print dresses,
and the sight of launches chopping over the gentle
waves toward the slips on the main pier, were proof
that the giant cruise ships far out in the harbor were
managed by knowledgeable men. Mykonos was a daz-
zling snare for tourists; money would be left on the
whitewashed island; the tavernas and the shops would
be full from early sunrise to burning twilight. The
oozo would flow and Greek fishermen’s caps would
disappear from the shelves and appear on the swaying
heads of suburbanites from Crosse Point and Short
Hills. And when night came and the last efharisto and
paracalo had been awkwardly uttered by the visitors,
other games would begin the courtiers and
courtesans the beautiful, ageless, self-indulgent
children of the blue Aegean, would start to play.
Peals of laughter would be heard as drachmas were
counted and spent in amounts that would stagger
even those who had opulent suites on the highest
decks of the most luxurious ships. Where Geneva was
con-, trary, Mykonos was accommodating in ways
the long-ago
Turks might have envied.
Joel had called the bank from the airport, not
knowing its business hours, but knowing the name of
the banker he was to contact. Kostas Laskaris greeted
him cautiously over the phone, making it clear that he
expected not only a passport that would clear a
spectrograph but the original letter from A. Preston
Halliday with his signature, said signature to be
subjected to a scanner, matching the signature the
bank had been provided by the deceased Mr. A.
Preston Halliday.
“We hear he was killed in Geneva. It is most
unfortunate,” Laskaris had said.
“I’ll tell his wife and children how your grief
overwhelms me.”
Converse paid the taxi and climbed the short
white steps of the entrance, carrying his suitcase and
attache case, grateful that the door was opened by a
uniformed guard whose appearance brought to mind
a long-forgotten photograph of a mad sultan who
whipped his harem’s women in a courtyard when they
failed to arouse him.
Kostas Laskaris was not at all whatJoel had
expected from the brief, disconcerting conversation
over the phone. He was a balding, pleasant-faced man
in his late fifties, with warm
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 41
dark eyes, and relatively fluent in English but
certainly not comfortable with the language. His first
words upon rising from his desk and indicating a
chair in front of it for Converse contradicted Joel’s
previous impression.
“I apologizefor what might have appeared as a
callous statement on my part regarding Mr. Halliday.
However, it ureas most unfortunate, and I don’t
know how else to phrase it. And it is difficult, sir, to
grieve for a man one never knew.”
“I was out of line. Forget it, please.”
“You are most kind, but I am afraid I cannot
forget the arrangements mandated by Mr. Halliday
and his associate here on Mykonos. I must have your
passport and the letter, if you please?”
“Who is he?” asked Joel, reaching into his jacket
pocket for his passport billfold; it contained the
letter. “The associate, I mean.”
“You are an attorney, sir, and surely you are
aware that the information you desire cannot be
given to you until the barriers have been leaped, as
it were. At least, I think that’s right.”
“It’ll do. I just thought I’d try.” He took out his
passport and the letter, handing them to the banker.
Laskaris picked up his telephone and pressed a
button. He spoke in Greek and apparently asked for
someone. Within seconds the door opened and a
stunning bronzed, dark-haired woman entered and
walked gracefully over to the desk. She raised her
downcast eyes and glanced at Joel, who knew the
banker was watching him closely. A sign from
Converse, an other glance from him directed at
Laskaris and introduc tions would be forthcoming,
accommodation tacitly promised, and a conceivably
significant piece of information would be entered in
a banker’s file. Joel offered no such sign; he wanted
no such entry. A man did not pick up half a million
dollars for nodding his head, and then look for a
bonus. It did not signify stability; it signified
something else.
Inconsequential banter about flights, customs and
the general deterioration of travel covered the next
ten minutes, at which time his passport and the letter
were returned not by the striking, dark-haired
woman but by a young, balletic blond Adonis. The
pleasant-faced Laskaris was not missing a trick; he
was perfectly willing to supply one, whichever route
his wealthy visitor required.
Converse looked into the Greek’s warm eyes, then
42 ROBERT LUDLUM
smiled, the smile developing into quiet laughter.
Laskaris smiled back and shrugged, dismissing the
beachboy.
‘I am chief manager of this branch, sir,” he said
as the door closed, “but I do not set the policies for
the entire bank. This is, after all, Mykonos.”
“And a great deal of money passes through
here,” added Joel. “Which one did you bet on?”
“Neither,” replied Laskaris, shaking his head.
“Only on exactly what you did. You’d be a fool
otherwise, and I do not think you are a fool. In
addition to being chief manager on the waterfront,
I am also an excellent judge of character.”
“Is that why you were chosen as the intermediary?”
“No, that is not the reason. I am a friend of Mr.
Halliday’s associate here on the island. His name is
Beale, incidentally. Dr. Edward Beale…. You see,
everything is in order.”
“A doctor?” asked Converse, leaning forward
and accepting his passport and the letter. “He’s a
doctor?”
“Not a medical man, however,” clarified
Laskaris. “He’s a scholar, a retired professor of
history from the United States. He has an adequate
pension and he moved here from Rhodes several
months ago. A most interesting man, most
knowledgeable. I handle his financial affairs in
which he is not very knowledgeable, but still
interesting.”” The banker smiled again, shrugging.
“I hope so,” said Joel. “We have a great deal to
discuss..’
“That is not my concern, sir. Shall we get to the
disposition of the funds? How and where would you
care to have them paid?”
“A great deal in cash. I bought one of those
sensorized money belts in Geneva the batteries are
guaranteed for a year. If it’s ripped off me, a tiny
siren goes off that splits your eardrums. I’d like
American currency for myself and the rest
transferred.”
“Those belts are effective, sir, but not if you are
unconscious, or if there is no one around to hear
them. Might I suggest traveler’s checks?”
“You could and you’d probably be right, but I
don’t think so. I may not care to write out a
signature.”
“As you wish. The denominations for yourself,
please?” said Laskaris, pencil in hand, pad below.
“And where would you like the remainder to be
sent?”
“Is it possible,” asked Converse slowly, “to have
accounts set up not in my name but accessible to
me?”
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 43
‘&Of course, sir. Frankly, it is often standard in
Mykonos as well as in Crete, Rhodes, Athens,
Istanbul, and also much of Europe. A description is
wired, accompanied by words written out in your
handwriting another name, or numbers. One man
I knew used nursery rhymes. And then they are
matched. One must use a sophisticated bank, of
course.”
‘Of course. Name a few.”
“Where?”
“In London, Paris, Bonn maybe Tel Aviv,” said
Joel, trying to remember Halliday’s words.
“Bonn is not easy; they are so inflexible. A wrong
apostrophe and they summon whomever they
consider their authorities…. Tel Aviv is simple;
money is as freewheeling and as serpentine as the
Knesset. London and Paris are standard and, of
course, their greed is overwhelming. You will be
heavily taxed for the transfers because they know you
will not make an issue over covert funds. Very
proper, very mercenary, and very much thievery.”
“You know your banks, don’t you?”
“I’ve had experience, sir. Now, as to the
disbursements?
“I want a hundred thousand for myself nothing
larger than five-hundred-dollar bills. The rest you
can split up and tell me how I can get it if I need it.”
“It is not a difficult assignment, sir. Shall we start
writing names, or numbers or nursery rhymes?”
“Numbers,” said Converse. “I’m a lawyer. Names
and nursery rhymes are in dimensions I don’t want to
think about right now.”
“As you wish,” said the Greek, reaching for a pad.