Robert Ludlum – Aquatain Progression

had done a thousand times. “In the interests of my

client of course.”

“Of course,” said the German. “Tomorrow say,

four o’clock in the afternoon. I’ll send a car for you.

I assure you I set an excellent table.”

“A table?”

“Dinner, naturally. After we have our talk.”

Leifhelm rose from the chair. ’61 wouldn’t think of

your coming to Bonn and forgoing the experience.

I’m known for my dinner parties, Mr. Converse.

And if it concerns you, make whatever security

arrangements you like. A platoon of personal

guards, if you wish. You’ll be perfectly safe. Mein

Haus ist dein Haus. ”

“I don’t speak German.”

“Actually, it’s an old Spanish saying. Mi casa, su

casa. ‘My house is your house.’ Your comfort and

well-being are my most urgent concerns.”

“Mine, too,” said Joel, rising. “I wouldn’t think of

having anyone accompany me, or follow me. It’d be

counterproductive. Of course, I’ll inform my client

as to my whereabouts telling him approximately

when he can expect my subsequent call. He’ll be

anxious to hear from me.”

“I should think so.” Leifhelm and Converse

walked to the door; the German turned and once

more offered his hand. “Until tomorrow, then. And

may I again suggest while you’re here that you be

careful, at least for several days.”

“I understand.”

The puppets in New York. The killing that had to

tee deals with the first of two obstacles, two sharp,

sickening aches … his chat.

“By the way,” said Joel, releasing the field

marshal’s hand. “There was a news item on the BBC

this morning that interested me EO much that I

phoned an associate. A man was killed in New

York, a judge. They say it was a revenge killing,

THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 217

a contract put out by organised. Did you happen to

hear anything about it?”

“Id” asked Leithelm, his blond-white eyebrows

raised, his warlike lips parted. “It seems people are

killed by the dozens every day in New York, judges

included, I presume. Why should I know anything

about it? The answer, obviously, is no.”

“I just wondered. Thank you.”

“But . . . but you. You must have a . . .”

“Yes, General?”

“Why does this judge interest you? Why did you

think I would know him?”

Converse smiled, but without a trace of humor.

“I won’t be telling you anything when I tell you he

was our mutual adversary enemy, if you like.”

“Our? You really must explain yourselfl”

“As you and as I said, I am what I want

people to think I am. This man knew the truth. I’m

on leave of absence from my firm, working

confidentially for a personal client. He tried to stop

me, tried to get the senior partner to cancel my leave

and call me back.”

“By giving him reasons?”

“No, just veiled threats of corruption and

impropriety. He wouldn’t go any further; he’s on the

bench and couldn’t back it up; his own conduct

would be suspect. My employer is completely

ignorant angry as hell and confused but I’ve

calmed him down. It’s a closed issue; the less it’s

explored, the better for us all.” Joel opened the door

for Leifhelm. “Till tomorrow ” He paused for a

brief moment, loathing the man standing in front of

him but showing only respect in his eyes. “Field

Marshal,” he added.

“Gate Nacht,” said Erich Leifhelm, nodding his

head sharply once in military acknowledgment.

Converse persuaded the switchboard operator to

send someone into the dining room for the

American, Commander Fitzpatrick. The task of

finding the naval officer was not easy, for he was not

in the dining room or the bar but outside on the

Spanrsche Terrasse having a drink with friends,

watching the Rhine at twilight.

“What goddamned friends?” demanded Joel over

the phone.

218 ROBERT LUDLUM

‘just a couple I met out there. He’s a nice

guy an executive type, pretty much into his

seventies, I think.”

“And she?” asked Converse, his lawyer’s antenna

struck by a signal.

“Maybe thirty, forty years younger,” replied

Connal with less elaboration.

“Get up here, sailor!”

Fitzpatrick leaned forward on the couch, his

elbows on his knees, his expression a mixture of

concern and astonishment as he looked over at Joel,

who was smoking a cigarette in front of the open

balcony doors. “Let me run this again,” he said

warily. “You want me to stop someone from getting

your service record?”

“Not all of it, just part of it.”

“Who the hell do you think I am?”

“You did it for Avery for Press. You can do it

for me. You have tol”

“That’s backwards. I opened those files for him,

I didn’t keep them closed.”

‘Either way it’s control. You’ve got access; you’ve

got a

“I’m here, not there. I can’t scissor something

out you don’t like ten thousand miles away. Be

reasonable!”

“Somebody can, somebody has tol It’s only a

short segment, and it’s got to be at the end. The

final interview.”

“An interview?” said Connal, startled, getting to

his feet. “In a service record? You mean some kind

of operational report? Because if you do, it

wouldn’t be ”

“Not a report,” interrupted Converse, shaking his

head. “The discharge my discharge interview. That

stuff Press Halliday quoted to me.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute!” Fitzpatrick held

up his hands. “Are you referring to the remarks

made at your discharge hearing?”

“Yes, that’s it. The hearing!”

“Well, relax. They’re not part of your service

record, or anyone else’s.”

“Halliday had them Avery had theml I just told

you, he quoted my words verbatim!” Joel walked to

a table where there was an ashtray; he crushed out

his cigarette. “If they’re not part of the record, how

did he get them? How did you get them for him?”

THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 219

“That’s different,” said Connal, obviously

remembering as he spoke. “You were a POW, and a

lot of those hearings were put under a debriefing

classification, and I do mean classified. Even after all

these years, many of those sessions are still touchy.

A lot of things were talked about that no one to this

day wants made public for everyone’s good, not just

the military’s.”

“But you got them! I heard my own words, goddamn

ill”

“Yes, I got them,” admitted the Navy lawyer

without enthusiasm. “I got the transcript, and I’d be

busted to seaman third class if anyone knew about it.

You see, I believed Press. He swore to me he needed

it, needed everything. He couldn’t make any

mistakes.”

“How did you do it? You weren’t even in San

Diego at the time, that’s what you saidl”

“By calling the vaults and using my legal-release

number to have a photostat made. I said it was a

Four Zero emergency and I’d take responsibility. The

next morning when the authorization came in by

pouch for countersignature, I had the chief legal

officer at the base sign it with a lot of other things It

simply got buried in the paper work.”

“But how did you know about it in the first place?”

“Selected POW records have flags on their

discharge sheets.”

“Clarification, please?”

“Just what I said, flags. Small blue seals that

denote additional information stilt held under tight

security. No flags, everything’s clean; but if there is

one, that means there’s something else. I told Press,

and he said he had to have whatever it was, so I

went after it.”

“Then anyone else could, too.”

“No, not anyone. You need an officer with a

legal-release number, and there aren’t that many of

us. Also there’s a minimum forty-eight-hour delay so

the material can be vetted. That’s almost always in

the area of weapons and technology data that still

might be classified.”

“Forty~i’

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