of his cooperation. He agreed that I might have a
point there.”
“How did we hear about this place?” asked Joel,
skill suspicious.
“Simple. I remembered it from several
conversations I had at the Internahonal Economic
Conference in Dusseldorf last year.”
“You were there?”
“I didn’t know there was one,” said Fitzpatrick,
heading for the door on the left. “I’ll take this
bedroom, okay? It’s not as large as the other one
and that’s the way it should be, since I’m an
aide which Jesus, Mary, and Joseph all know is the
truth.”
“Wait a minute,” Converse broke in, stepping
forward. “What about our luggage? Since we don’t
have any, didn’t that strike your friend downstairs as
a little odd for such important characters?”
“Not at all,” said Connal, turning. “It’s skill in the
city at
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 201
that unnamed hotel you rejected so emphatically
after twenty minutes. But only I can pick it up.”
“Why?”
Fitzpatrick brought his index finger to his lips.
“You also have a compulsion for secrecy. Remember,
you’re eccentric.”
“The manager bought all that swill?”
“He calls me Kommandant.”
“You’re quite a bullshitter, sailor.”
“I remind you, sir, that in the land of Erin go
brash it’s called good healthy blarney. And although
you lack certain qualifications, Press said you were a
master of it in negohations.” Connal’s expression
became serious. “He meant it in the best way,
counselor, and that’s not bullshit.”
As the Navy lawyer began walking to the
bedroom, Joel felt an odd sense of recognition but
could not define it. What was it about the younger
man that struck a chord in him? Fitzpatrick had that
boldness that came with the untried, that lack of fear
in small things that caution would later teach him
often led to larger things. He tested waters bravely;
he had never come close to drowning.
Suddenly Converse understood the recognition.
What he saw in Connal Fitzpatrick was
himself before things had happened. Before he had
learned the meaning of fear, raw fear. And finally of
loneliness.
It was agreed that Connal would return to the
Cologne-Bonn airport, not for Joel’s luggage but for
his own, which was stored in a locker in the
baggage-claim area. He would then go into Bonn
proper, buy an expensive suitcase and fill it with a
half-dozen shirts, underwear, socks and best
off-the-rack clothing he could find in Joel’s
sizes namely, three pairs of trousers, a jacket or two
and a raincoat. It was further agreed that casual
clothes were the most appropriate an eccentric
financier was permitted such lapses of sartorial taste,
and also such attire more successfully concealed their
non-custom-made origins. Finally, the last stop he
would make before returning to Das Rektorat was at
a second locker in the railroad station where
Converse had left his attache case. Once the case
was in the Navy lawyer’s possession and the taxi
waiting outside had picked up its passenger, there
were to be no further stops. The cab was to drive
directly to the countryside inn.
“I wanted to ask you something,” said Fitzpatrick just
be
202 ROBERT LUDLUM
fore leaving. “Back at the Alter Zoll you said
something about how ‘they’ would spread the word
that you couldn’t talk your way through the five
boroughs of New York. I gathered that referred to
the fact that you don’t speak German.”
“That’s right. Or any other language, adequate
English excepted. I tried but it never took. I was
married to a girl who spoke fluent French and
German, and even she gave up. I don’t have the ear,
I guess.”
“Who did ‘they’ refer to?” asked Connal, barely
listening to Converse’s explanation. “The embassy
men?”
Joel hesitated. “A little wider, I’m afraid,” he
said, choosing his words carefully. “You’ll have to
know but not now, not yet. Later.”
“Why later? Why not now?”
“Because it wouldn’t do you a damned bit of
good, and it might raise questions you wouldn’t want
raised under, shall we say, adverse circumstances.”
“That’s elliptical.”
‘fit certainly is. ‘
“Is that it? Is that all you’ll say?”
“No. There’s one other thing. I want my briefcase.”
Fitzpatrick had assured him that the switchboard
of Das Rektorat was capable of handling telephone
calls in English as well as at least six other
languages, including Arabic and he should have no
qualms about placing a call to Lawrence Talbot in
New York.
“Christ, where are you, Joel?” Talbot shouted
into the phone.
“Amsterdam,” replied Converse, not wanting to
say Bonn and having had the presence of mind to
make the call station-to-station. “I want to know
what happened to Judge Anstett, Larry. Can you tell
me anything?”
“I want to know what’s happened to you! Rene
called last night….”
“Mattilon?”
“You told him you were flying to London.”
“I changed my mind.”
“What the hell ha opened ? The police were with
him; he had no choice. He had to tell them who you
were.” Talbot suddenly paused, then spoke in a
calmer voice, a false voice. “Are you all right, Joel?
Is there something you want to tell me, something
bothering you?”
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 203
“Something bothering me?”
‘ Listen to me, Joel. We all know what you went
through, and we admire you, respect you. You’re the
finest we’ve got in the international division ”
“I’m the only one you’ve got,” Converse broke in,
trying to think, trying to buy time as well as
information. “What did Rene say? Why did he call
you?”
‘You sound like your old self, fella.”
“I am my old self, Larry. What did Rene call you
about? Why were the police with him?” Joel could
feel the slippage; he was entering another sphere and
he knew it, accepted it. The lies would follow, guile
joining deceit, because time and freedom of
movement were paramount. He had to stay free;
there was so much to do, so little time.
“He called me back after the police left to fill me
in incidentally, they were from the Surete. As he
understood it, the driver of a limousine was assaulted
outside the George Cinq’s service entrance ”
“The driver of a limousine?” interrupted
Converse involuntarily. “They said he was a
chauffeur?”
“From one of those high-priced services that ferry
around people who make odd stops at odd hours.
Very posh and very confidential. Apparently the
fellow was pretty well smashed up and they say you
did it. No one knows why, but you were identified
and they say the man may not live.”
“Larry, this is preposterousI” objected Joel, his
protestation accompanied by feigned outrage. “Yes,
I was there in the area but it had nothing to do
with me! Two hotheads got into a fight, and since I
couldn’t stop them, I wasn’t going to get my head
handed to me. I got out of there, and before I found
a taxi I yelled at the doorman to call for help. The
last thing I saw he was blowing his whistle and
running toward the alley.”
“You weren’t even involved, then,” said Talbot.
The statement was a lawyer’s positive fact.
“Of course not! Why would I be?”
“That’s what we couldn’t understand. It didn’t
make sense.”
“It doesn’t make sense. I’ll call Rene and fly back
to Paris, if I have to.”
“Yes, do that,” agreed Talbot haltingly. “I should
tell you I may have aggravated the situation.”
“You? How?”
204 ROBERT LUDIUM
“I told Mattilon that perhaps you were . . . well,
not yourself. When I spoke with you in Geneva, you
sounded awful, Joel. Just plain awful.”
‘Good God, how did you think I’d feel? A man
I was negotiating with dies in front of me bleeding
from a dozen bullet wounds. How would you feel?”
“I understand,” said the lawyer in New York,
“but then Rene thought he saw something in
you heard something that disturbed him, too.”
“Oh, come on, will you people get off it!”
Converse’s thoughts raced; every word he spoke had
to be credible, his now diminished “outrage” rooted
in believability. ‘`Mathlon saw me after I’d been
flying in and out of airports for damn near fourteen
hours. Christ, I was exhausted!”
“Joel?” Talbot began, obviously not quite ready
to get off it. “Why did you tell Rene you were in
Paris for the firm?”
Converse paused, not for lack of a response but
for effect. He was ready for the question; he had
been ready when he first approached Mattilon. “A
white lie, Larry, and no harm to anyone. I wanted
some information, and it seemed the best way to get
it.”
“About this Bertholdier? He’s the general, isn’t he?”
“He turned out to be the wrong source. I told
Rene as much, and he couldn’t agree with me
more.” Joel lightened his tone of voice. “Also it
would have appeared strange if I’d said I was in
Paris for somebody else, wouldn’t it? I don’t think
it would have done the firm any good. Rumors and