Aquitaine. He was back back in the camps and the
jungles that he had sworn never to return to. He
could only survive and hope that someone better
than himself would provide the solutions. But at the
moment, death was both his closest ally and his
most hostile adversary. He wanted to collapse into
nothingness let some
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 469
one else take up the cause no one knew had been
given him in Geneva.
Jesus! The tape! If it was even twelve or
twenty-four hours old, Val probably had not received
the envelope he had sent from Bonn! She could not
have. She would not have flown to Europe if she
had!
Oh, my God! thought Joel, swallowing the last of
the whisky as he rubbed his forehead, his confusion
complete. Without the envelope in Nathan Simon’s
hands, no plea to him made sense! No call to him
would evoke anything but a demand that Joel turn
himself in and a telephone trace would be put on the
line. Natewould not disobey the law, he would fight
violently for a client afterward, but not before that
client obeyed the law. It was his religion, far more
important to him than his temple, for the law
allowed mistakes; it was essentially human, not
esoterically metaphysical. Converse’s hands began to
tremble; he had to find out!
“Your filet of sole, Meneer.”
“What?”
“Your sole, sir,” repeated the waiter. You speak
English?”
“But of course,” said the gaunt, bald-headed man
with detached courtesy. “We spoke before, but you
were very excited. This district can do that to a man,
I understand.”
“Listen to me.” Joel brought his hand across
his lips emphasising each word. ‘I will pay you a lot
of money if you will place a phone call for me. I
don’t speak Dutch, or French or German or anything
but English. Can you understand that?”
‘1 understand.”
“To West Berlin.”
“It is not difficult, sir.”
“Will you do it for me?”
“But of course, Mender. You have a telephone
credit card?”
“Yes . . . no. I don’t want to use it.”
“Of course.”
“I mean I don’t I don’t want it recorded
anywhere. I have money.”
“I understand. In a few minutes I shall be off my
shift. I shall come for you. We shall place your call
and I shall know the amount from the operator. You
shall pay.”
“Absolutely.”
470 ROBERT LUDLUM
“And ‘a lot of money, ja? Fifty builder, ja?”
“You’re on. Yes.”
Twenty minutes later Converse sat behind a
small desk n a very small office. The waiter handed
him the phone. ”They speak English, Meneer.”
“Miss Charpentier, please,” said Joel, his voice
choking overwhelmed by a kind of paralysis. If he
heard her voice he was not sure he could handle his
own reaction. For an instant he thought about
slamming down the phone. He could not involve
her!
“Hello?”
It was she, and as a part of him died another
part came alive. A thousand pictures flashed across
his mind, memories of happiness and anger, of love
and of hate. He could not speak.
“HelloP Who’s this?”
“Oh . . . there you are. Sorry, it’s a lousy
connection. This is Jack Talbot from . . . Boston
Graphics. How are you, Val?”
“Fine . . . Jack. How are you? It’s been a couple
of months. Since lunch at the Four Seasons, if I
remember.”
“That’s right. When did you get in?”
“Last night.”
“Staying long?”
“Just for the day. I’ve been in crisis meetings all
morning with another one this afternoon. If I’m not
too bushed I’ll catch the plane back tonight. When
did you get to Berlin?”
“Actually, I’m not in Berlin. I saw you on a
Belgian broadcast. I’m in . . . Antwerp, but I’m
going to Amsterdam this afternoon. Christ, I’m sorry
about all that crap you had to take. Who would ever
have guessed it? About Joel, I mean.”
“I should have guessed it, Jack. It’s all so
horrible. He’s so very sick. I hope they catch him
quickly for everyone’s sake. He needs help.”
“He needs a firing squad, if you don’t mind my
saying so.”
“I’d rather not discuss it.”
“Did you get the sketches I sent you when we
lost the Gillette account? I figured it was a way to
your sackP”
“Sketches? . . . No. Jack, I never got anything
like that. But thanks for the thought, the sack
notwithstanding.”
Christ! “Oh? I thought you might have looked at
your marl.
“I did . . . until the day before yesterday. It
doesn’t matter you’ll be in Amsterdam?”
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 471
“For a week. I wondered if you were going to
check any of the agency’s accounts up there before
heading back to New
“I should, but I don’t think so. There’s no time.
If I do, I’ll be at the Amstel Hotel. If not, I’ll see
you back in New York. You can buy me lunch at
Lutece, and we’ll swap trade secrets.”
“I’ve got more of them. You buy. Take care,
youngster.”
“Take care . . . Jack.”
She was magnificent. And she had not received
the envelope from Bonn.
He roamed the streets, afraid of walking too fast,
afraid of staying in one place too long, knowing only
that he had to keep moving, watching, finding the
shadows and letting them envelope him. She would
be in Amsterdam by evening; he knew that, it was in
her voice, and she had told him to reach her at the
Amstel Hotel. Whys Why had she come? What did
she think she was doing? Suddenly, the face of Rene
Mattilon came to him. It was in sharp focus, filling
his inner eye, surrounded by sunlight, the face a
mask a death mask. Rene had been killed by
Aquitaine for sending him to Amsterdam. Valerie
would not be spared if the disciples of George
Marcw Delavane thought she had flown over to find
him, to help him.
He would not reach her! He could not! It was
signing another death warrant! Her death warrant.
He had taken so much from her, given so little. The
last gift could not be the taking of her life. Yet . . .
yet there was Aquitaine and he meant what he had
said to Larry Talbot on the phone. He one Joel
Converse, was inconsequential where the gathering
of the generals was concerned. So was A. Preston
Halliday and Edward Beale and Connal Fitzpatrick.
If Val could help, he had no right to let his feelings
stop her the lawyer in him told him that, the
outraged man confirmed it. And it was possible she
could help, do the things he could not do himself
She could fly back, get the envelope and go to
Nathan Simon herself, saying that she had seen him,
talked to him, believed he
It was three-thirty; it would be dark by eight
o’clock or so. He had roughly five hours to remain
unseen and stay alive. And somehow find a car.
He stopped on the pavement and looked up at
an overly made-up, extremely bored whore in a
window on the third
472 ROBERT IUDLUM
floor of a colorful brick house. Their eyes made
contact and she smiled a bored smile at him, the
thumb and forefinger of her right hand meeting, the
wrist motion leaving little to the imagination.
Why not? thought Converse. The only certain
thing in a very uncertain world was the fact that
there was a bed beyond that window.
The “concierge” was a clerk, a man in his middle
fifhes with the pink face of an aging cherub, who
explained in perfectly fluent English that payment
was based on twenty-minute sessions, two sessions
paid in advance, one to be refunded should the
guest come downstairs during the final five minutes
of the fir st period. It was a loan shark’s dream
thought Converse, glancing at the various clocks
placed on numbered squares on the counter. As an
elderly man walked down the staircase the clerk
hastily grabbed one of the clocks and pushed the set
ond hand forward.
Joel calculated rapidly, converting Builders to
dollars, the rate of acceleration based on roughly
$30 per session. He gave the astonished “concierge”
the equivalent of $275, accepted his number and
headed for the staircase.
“She is a friend, sir?” asked the stunned
custodian of the revels as Converse reached the first
step. “An old lover, perhaps?”
“She’s a Dutch cousin I haven’t seen in years,”
replied Joel sadly. “We have to have a long talk.”
With heavy shoulders, he continued up the staircase.
“Slapen?” exclaimed the woman with the
spangled dark hair and heavily rouged cheeks. She
was as astonished as her keeper below. “You want
slapen?”
“It doesn’t translate well, but yes,” said Converse,
removing his glasses and his cap and sitting on the
bed. “Pm very tired and sleep would be terrific, but