mind or find the energy to reach for her. She had
filled a void for him he had thought would always be
there after his first wife died. He was grateful, and
along with his feeling of gratitude came excitement,
two emotions satisfyingly compatible. He was
becoming aroused; he rolled over on his side and
pulled down the covers, revealing the swell of her
breasts encased in laced silk, the diffused light and
the pounding on the windows heightening the
sensuality. He reached for her.
Suddenly, there was another sound besides the
rain, and though still wrapped in the mists of sleep
he recognized it. Quickly he withdrew his hand and
turned away from his wife. He had heard that noise
only moments before; it was the sound that had
awakened him, an insistent tone that had broken the
steady rhythm of the downpour: the chimes of his
apartment doorbell.
Mattilon climbed out of bed as carefully as he
could, reaching for his bathrobe on a nearby chair
and sliding his feet into his slippers. He walked out
of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him,
and found the wall switch that turned on the lamps
in the living room. He glanced at the ornate clock on
the fireplace mantel. it was nearly two-thirty in the
morning. Who could possibly be calling on them at
this hour? He tied the sash around his robe and
walked to the door.
“Yes, who is it?”
“Surete, monsieur. Inspector Prudhomme. My
state identification is zero-five-seven-two-zero.” The
man’s accent was Gascon, not Parisian. It was often
said that Gascons made the best police officials. “I
shall wait while you call my station, monsieur. The
telephone number is ”
“No need,” said Mattilon, alarmed, unlatching the
door.
108 ROBERT LUDLUM
He knew the man was genuine not only from the
information offered, but anyone from the Surete
calling on him at this hour would know he was an
attorney. The Surete was legally circumspect.
There were two men, both in raincoats spotted
by the downpour, their hats drenched; one was
older than the other and shorter. Each held out an
open identification for Rene’s inspection. He waved
the cards aside and gestured for the two men to
come in, adding, “It’s an odd time for visitors,
gentlemen. You must have pressing business.”
“Very pressing, monsieur,” said the older man,
entering first. He was the one who had spoken
through the door, giving his name as Prudhomme,
and was obviously the senior. “We apologize for the
inconvenience, of course.” Both men removed their
hats.
“Of course. May I take your coats?”
“It won’t be necessary, monsieur. With your
cooperation we’ll only be a few minutes.”
“And I shall be most interested to know how I
can cooperate with the Surete at this time of night.
‘
“A matter of identification, sir. Monsieur Serge
Antoine Luboque is a client of yours, we are
informed. Is this so?”
“My God, has something happened to Serge? I
was with him only this afternoon!”
“Monsieur Luboque appears to be in excellent
health. We left his country house barely an hour
ago. And to the point, it is your meeting with him
this afternoon yesterday afternoon that concerns
the Surete.”
“In what way?”
“There was a third party at your table. Like
yourself, an attorney, introduced to Monsieur
Luboquc-~ man named Simon. Henry Simon, an
American.”
“And a pilot,” said Mattilon warily. “With
considerable expertise in aircraft litigation. I trust
Luboque explained that; it was the reason he was
there at my request. Monsieur Luboque is the
plaintiff in just such a lawsuit. That, of course, is all
I can say on the subject.”
“It is not the subject that interests the Surete.”
“What is, then?”
“There is no attorney by the name of Henry
Simon in the city of Chicago, Illinois, in the United
States.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 109
The name is false At least, it is not his. The
address he gave the hotel does not exist”
The address he gave the hotels, Rene,
astonished. Joel did not have to give an address to
the George V it knew him well, knew the firm of
Talbot, Brooks and Simon very well, indeed
fin his own handwriting, monsieur,” added the
younger man sbfily
Has the hotel management confirmed this?”
eyes,” said Prudhomme The night concierge was
very cooperative He told us he escorted Monsieur
Simon down the freight elevator to the hotel cellars.”
The cellars?”
Monsieur Simon wished to leave the hotel
without being seen. He paid his bill in his room”
A minute, please,” said Mathlon, perplexed, his
hands protesting, as he turned and walked aimlessly
around an armchair. He stopped, his hands on the
rim. ‘ What precisely do you want from mew
Ewe want you to help us,” answered Prudhomme.
We think you know who he is. You brought him to
Monsieur Luboque.”
On a confidential matter entailing a legal
opinion He agreed to listen and to evaluate on the
condition that his idenbty be protected. It’s not
unusual when seeking expertise if one is involved
with, shall we say, an individual as wealthy and as
temperamental as Monsieur Luboque You’ve spoken
with him; need I say more?”
‘`Not on that subject,” said the older man from
the Surete permitting himself a smile. “He thinks all
government personnel work for Moscow. We were
surrounded by dogs in his foyer, all salivating, I
might add.”
‘When you can understand why my American
colleague prefers to remain unnamed. I know him
well, he’s a splendid man.”
Who is he? And do you know where we can find
him?”
Why do you want him?”
“We wish to question him about an incident that
took place at the hotel.”
“I’m sorry. As Luboque is a client, so by
extension is Simon ”
“That is not acceptable to us under the
circumstances, monsieur ”
110 ROBERT LUDLUM
“I’m afraid it will have to be, at least for a few
hours. Tomorrow I shall try to reach him through
his office in . . . in the United States, and I’m sure
he’ll get in touch with you immediately.”
“We don’t think he will.”
“Why not?”
Prudhomme glanced at his starchly postured
associate and shrugged. “He may have killed a man,”
he said matter-of-factly.
Mattilon stared at the Surete officer in disbelief.
He … what?’
It was a particularly vicious assault, monsieur.
A man’s head was rammed into a wall; there are
extensive cranial injuries and the prognosis is not
good. His condition as of midnight was critical, the
chances of recovery less than half. He may be dead
by now, which one doctor said could be a blessing.”
No . . . no! You are mistaken! You’re wrong!”
The lawyer’s hands gripped the back of the chair.
A terrible error has been made!”
No error. The identification was positive that
is, Monsieur Simon was identified as the last person
seen with the man who was beaten. He forced the
man out into an alley; there were sounds of
scuffling and minutes later that man was found, his
skull fractured, bleeding, near death.”
~Impossible! You don’t know him! What you
suggest is inconceivable. He couldn’t.”
“Are you telling us he is disabled, physically
incapable of assault?”
“No,” said Mattilon, shaking his head. Then
suddenly he stopped all movement. “Yes,” he
continued thoughtfully, his eyes pensive, now
nodding, rushing ahead. “He’s incapable, yes, but
not physically. Mentally. In that sense he is disabled.
He could not do what you say he did.”
“He’s mentally deranged?”
“My God, no! He’s one of the most lucid men
I’ve ever met. You have to understand. He went
through a prolonged period of extreme physical
stress and mental anguish. He endured punishment,
to both his body and his mind. There was no
permanent damage but there are indelible
memories. Like so many men who’ve been subjected
to such treatment, he avoids all forms of physical
confrontation or abuse. It is repugnant to him. He
can’t inflict punishment because too much was
inflicted on him.”
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 111
“You mean he would not defend himself, his
own? He would turn the other cheek if he, or his
wife, or his children were attacked?”
“Of course not, but that’s not what you described.
You said ‘a particularly vicious assault, implying
something quite different. And if it were
otherwise if he were threatened or attacked and
defended himself he most certainly would not have
left the scene. He’s too fine a lawyer.” Mattilon
paused. “Was that the case? Is that what you’re
saying? Is the injured man known to you from the
police files? Is he ”
“A limousine chauffeur,” interrupted Prudhomme.
“An unarmed man who was waiting for his assigned
passenger of the evening.”
“In the cellars?”
“Apparently it is a customary service and not an
unfamiliar one. These firms are discreet. This one
sent another driver to cover before inquiring as to