bolt, opened the heavy door and raced into the
forward car. He ran up the aisle a priest perhaps on
an errand of mercy repeatedly apologizing as he
rushed past the departing passengers, intent only on
getting off before an unconscious body was found, a
lever pulled, an alarm sounded. He reached the exit
and leaped from the second step to the platform; he
looked around and ran into the shadows of the
station.
He was free. He was alive. But he was miles away
from an old woman waiting for her priest.
31
Valerie kept running, afraid to look behind, but
when she forced herself to turn her head she saw the
Army officer ing with the driver of the Army car.
Seconds later she looked again as she reached the
corner of Madison Avenue. The officer was now
running after her, shortening the distance between
them with each stride. She raced across the street just
as the light turned, and the blaring of horns signified
the anger of several drivers.
Thirty feet away a taxi heading north had pulled
to the curb and a gray-haired man was lethargically
stretching himself out onto the pavement, tired,
unwilling to accept the morning. Val ran back into
the street, into the traffic, and raced to the cab’s
door; she opened it and climbed in as the startled
gray-haired man was receiving change.
“Hey, lady, you crazy?” yelled the black driver.
“You’re supposed to use the curb! You’ll get
flattened by a bus!”
“I’m sorry!” cried Val, sinking low and back on the
seat.
530 ROBERT LUDLUM
What the hell? “My husband is running up the street
after me and I win not be hit again! I hurt.
He’s he’s an Arrny officer.”
The gray-haired man sprang out of the cab like
a decathalon contender, slamming the door behind
him. The taxi driver turned around and looked at
her, his large black face suspicious. “You tellin’ the
truth?”
“I threw up all morning from the punches last
night.”
“An officer? In the Army?”
“Yes! Will you please get out of here?” Val sank
lower. “He’s at the corner now! He’ll cross the
street he’ll see mel”
“Fret not, ma’am,” said the driver, calmly
reaching over the seat and pressing down the locks
on the rear doors. “Oh, you were right on! Here he
comes runnin’ across like a crazy man. And would
you look at them ribbons! Would you believe that
horseshit excuse me, ma’am. He’s kinda skinny,
ain’t he? Most of the real bad characters were
skinny. They compensated that’s a psychiatric
term, you know.”
“Get out of here!”
“The law’s precise, ma’am. It’s the duty of every
driver of a medallion vehicle to protect the
well-being of his fare. . . . And I was an infantry
grunt, ma’am, and I’ve waited a hell of a long time
for this particular opportunity. Having a real good
reason and all that. I mean, you sure can’t deny the
words you said to me.” The driver climbed out of
the cab. He matched his face; he was a very large
man, indeed. Val watched in horrified astonishment
as the black walked around the hood to the curb
and shouted, “Hey, Captain! Over here, on the
sidewalk! You lookin’ for a very pretty lady? Like
maybe your wife?”
“What?” The officer ran up on the pavement to
the black man.
“Well, Captain-baby, I’m afraid I can’t salute
’cause my uniform’s in the attic if I had an
attic but I want you to know that this
search-and-destroy has successfully been completed.
Would you step over to my jeep, sir?”
The officer started to run toward the taxi but
was suddenly grabbed by the driver, who spun him
around and punched him first in the stomach, then
brought his knee crashing up into the Army man’s
groin, and finally completed the “assignment” by
hammering a huge fist into the officer’s mouth. Val
gasped; blood spread over the captain’s entire face
as he fell to the pavement. The driver ran back to
the cab,
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 531
climbed in, shut the door and pulled the gear; the
taxi shot forward in the traffic.
‘Lawdy, lawdy!” said the driver in a caricature of
Southern dialect. “That felt real good! Is there an
address, ma’am? The meter’s running. ‘
“I . . . I’m not sure.”
“Let’s start with the basics. Where do you want to
go?”
“To a telephone . . . Why did you do that?”
“That’s my business, not yours.”
“You’re sick! You could have been arrested!”
“For what? Protecting a fare from assault? That
bad character was actually rennin’ toward my cab
and the vibes were not good, not good at all. Also,
there weren’t no cops around.”
“I presume you were in Vietnam,” said Vial, after
a period of silence, looking at the large head of
black hair in front of her.
“Oh, yes, I was accorded that privilege. Very
scenic, ma’am.”
“What did you think of General Delavane?
General George Marcus Delavane?”
The cab suddenly, violently, swerved as the
driver gripped the wheel and slammed his heavy foot
on the brake, causing the taxi to bolt to a stop,
throwing Val against the rim of the front seat. The
large black head whipped around, the coal-black eyes
filled with fury and loathing and that deep un-
mistakable core of fear Valerie had seen so many
times in Joel’s eyes. The driver swallowed, his
piercing stare somehow losing strength, turning
inward, the fear taking over. He turned back to the
wheel and answered simply, “I didn’t do much
thinking about the General ma’am. What’s the
address missus? The meter’s running.”
“I don’t know…. A telephone, I have to get to a
telephone. Will you wait?”
“Do you have money? Or did the captain take it
all? There are limits to my concern, lady. I don’t get
no compensation for good deeds.”
“I have money. You’ll be well paid.”
“Show me a bill ”
Valerie reached into her purse and pulled out a
hundred dollars. “Will that do?” she asked.
“It’s fine, but don’t do that with every cab you
want in a hurry. You could end up in Bed-Stuy a
damn good-lookin’ corpse.”
532 ROBERT IUDLUM
“I don’t want to believe that.”
‘Oh, my, we have a liberal! Suck to it, ma’am,
until they stick it to you. Me, I want ’em all toiry!
Your kind don’t really get it we do. You only get
the periphery, you dig? A couple of rapes in the
classy suburbs and some of them might be open to
dispute; and a few heists of silver and jewelry hell,
you’re covered by insurance! Where I come from
we’re covered by a gun under the pillow, and God
help the son of a bitch who tries to take it from
me.”
‘A telephone, please. ‘
“Your meter, lady.”
They stopped at a booth on the corner of
Madison and Seventy-eighth Street. Valerie got out,
and took from her purse the sheet~of St. Regis
stationery with the Air Force telephone number. She
inserted a coin and dialed.
“Air Force, Recruit Command, Denver,”
announced the female operator.
“I wondered if you could help me, miss,” said
Val, her eyes darUng about at the traffic, looking
for a roving brown sedan with u.s. ARMY printed
across its doors. “I’m trying to locate an officer, a
relative, actually . . .”
“One minute, please. I’ll transfer you.”
“Personnel, Denver Units,” came a second voice,
now male. “Sergeant Porter.”
“Sergeant, I’m trying to locate an officer,
‘repeated Valerie. “A relative of mine who left word
with an aunt that he wanted to reach me.”
“Where in Colorado, ma’am?”
“Well, I’m not sure.”
“The Springs? The Academy? Lowry Field or
possibly Cheyenne Mountain?”
“I don’t know that he is in Colorado, Sergeant.”
“Why did you call Denver, then?”
“You were in the telephone book.”
“I see.” The Army man paused. “And this officer
left word that he wanted to reach you?”
“Yes.”
“But he didn’t leave an address or a telephone
number.”
“If he did, my aunt lost it. She’s quite elderly.”
“The procedure is as follows, miss. If you will
write a letter to the MPC Military Personnel
Center at the Randolph Air Force Base, San
Antonio, Texas, staking your request and the
officer’s name and rank, the letter will be
processed.”
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 533
“I don’t have time, Sergeant! I travel a great
deal I’m calling from an airport now, as a matter of
fact.”
“I’m sorry, miss, those are the regulations.’
“I’m not a ‘miss’ and my cousin’s a general and
he really does want to speak to me! I just want to
know where he is, and if you can’t tell me, certainly
you can call him and give him my name. I’ll call you
back with a number where he can reach me. That’s
reasonable, isn’t it, Sergeant? Frankly, this is an
emergency.”
“A general, ma’am?”
“Yes, Sergeant Potter. A General Abbott.”