below the surface, his nostrils drowning, and twice
found the air again. There were moments when it
crossed his inner consciousness that it would be so
simple just to drift away. Huang Khe. Don’t do it!
Don ‘t die!
Finally through waterlogged eyes he saw the men
returning. One, two . . . three? . . . They ran down to
the dock, to the man with the rope. No! The man
with the rope had rushed forward! His eyes were
playing tricks! Only two men had run onto the dock,
the first man joining them, asking questions. The line
man returned to the piling and released the rope;
the other two jumped on board. The first man once
again joined his companions, now on the bow of the
launch leaving another on shore, a lone observer
somewhere unseen between the riverbank and the
road above. Huong Khe. An infantry scout separated
from his patrol.
The motor launch swung away from the dock and
sped within a few feet past Joel, who was buffeted
underwater by its wake. Once more the boat veered
toward the shoreline and slowed down, its searchlight
peering into the dense foliage of the bank, heading
west, back toward LeifLelm’s estate. Converse held
his head above the surface, his mouth wide open,
swallowing all the air he could as he made his way
slowly very slowly into the mud. He pulled
himself up through the wet reeds and branches until
he felt dry ground. Huong Khe. He pulled the
underbrush over him as best he could, finally
covering his upturned face. He would rest until he
felt the blood flowing steadily if painfully through his
limbs, until the muscles of his neck lost their
tension it was always the neck; the neck was the
warning signal and then he would consider the man
on the dark hill above him.
He dozed, until a slapping wave below woke him.
He pushed the branches and the leaves away from
his face and looked at the chauffeur’s watch on his
wrist, squinting at the weak radium dial. He had
slept for nearly an hour fitfully, to be sure, the
slightest sounds forcing his eyelids briefly open, but
he had rested. He rolled his neck back and forth,
then moved his arms and legs. Everything still hurt,
but the excruciating pain was gone. And now he
faced a man on a hill above
336 ROBERT LUDLUM
him. He tried to examine his thoughts. He was
frightened, of course, but his anger would control
that terrible fear, it had done so before, it would do
so now. The objective was all that mattered some
kind of sanctuary, a place where he could think and
put things together and somehow make the most
important telephone call in his life. To Larry Talbot
and Nathan Simon in New York. Unless he could
do these things he was dead as Connal Fitzpatrick
was undoubtedly dead. esus! What had they done to
him? A man with the purity of vengeance purely
sought caught in a diseased web called Aquitainel It
was an unfair world…. But he could not think about
it; he had to concentrate on a man on the hill.
He crept on his hands and knees. Stretch by
stretch he crawled through the woods bordering the
dirt road that wound up the hill from the lawn and
the riverbank. Whenever a twig crunched or a rock
was displaced he stopped, waiting for the moment to
dissolve back into the sounds of the forest. He kept
telling himself he had the advantage; he was the
unexpected. It helped counteract the fear of the
darkness and the knowledge that a physical
confrontation was before him. Like the patrol scout
years ago in the Huang Khe, that man above him
now had things he needed. The combat could not be
avoided, so it was best not to think about it but to
simply force himself into a mind-set empty of any
feeling, and do it. But do it well, his mind had to
understand that, too. There could be no hesitation,
no intrusions of conscience and no sound of a gun,
only the use of the steel.
He saw him, oddly enough, silhouetted in the
distant glare of a single streetlamp far above on a
road. The man was leaning against the trunk of a
tree and facing down, his sweep of vision taking in
everything below. As Joel crept up the slope the
space between his hands and knees became inches,
the stops more frequent, silence more vital. He
made his way in an arc above the tree and the man
and then started down like a large cat descending on
its prey. He was the predator he had once been long
ago, everything blocked out but the requirement of
the lifeline.
He was within six feet; he could hear the man’s
breathing. There was a snap beneath him. A branch
The scout turned his eyes alive in the glare of light.
Converse lunged, the barrel of the gun gripped in
his hand. He crashed the steel handle into the
German’s temple and then into his throat. The man
fell backward, dazed but not unconscious; he started
to
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 337
screarn..loel sprang for his enemy’s neck and half
choked him before bringing the steel handle down
with all his strength on the C;erman’s forehead,
instantly there was an eruption of blood and crushed
tissue.
Silence. No movement. Anotile’; SC’C’llt
separated from his patrol had been taken out. And
as be hac] years ago, Converse permitted himself no
feeling. it was done, and he had to go on.
The man’s dry clothes, including the dark leather
jacket, fit reasonably well. Like most small or
medium-sized commanders, LeiFhelm surrounded
himself with tall men, as much to protect himself as
to proclaim his superiority over his larger
compatriots.
There was also another gull; Joel struggled with
the clip, removed it, and threw it along with the
weapon into the woods. The bonus came with the
Cerman s billfold; it contained ti sizable sum of
money as well as a frayed, much stamped passport.
Apparently, this trusted employee of Leifhelm
traveled widely for 4quitaine probably knowing
nothing and being very expendable, but always
available at the moment of decision. The ma!1 s
shoes did not tat; they were too small. So Converse
used his drenched clothing to wipe his OWI1, and the
Cerman’s dry socks Iqelped to absorb some of the
moisture of the leather inside. He covered the man
with branches and walked up the hit’ to the road.
He stayed out of sight between the trees as five
cars passed by, all sedans, all possibly belonging to
Erich Leifhelm. Then he saw a bright-yellow
Volkswagen come into view, weaving slightly. He
stepped out and held up his hands, the gesture of a
man in trouble.
The small car stopped a blond girl in the
passenger seat, the driver no more than eighteen or
twenty, another young man in back, also blond, who
looked as though he might be the girl’s brother.
“Was ist los, Opa?” asked the driver.
“I’m afraid I don’t speak German. Can you speak
any English?”
“I speak some English,” said the boy in back,
slurring his words. “Better than these two! All they
want to do is get to our place and make love. See! I
do speak English?”
“You certainly do, and very well, indeed. Would
you explain to them, please? Frankly, I’ve had a fight
with my wife
338 ROBERT IUDLUM
at a party down there you know, at those
cottages and I want to get back to Bonn. 111 pay
you, of course.”
“Ein Streit mit seiner Frau! Er will nach Bonn. Er
wind uns hezahlen.”
“Warum night? Sie hat mich halite sowieso schon
zu viol gekostet,” said the driver.
“Nichtfuer was du kriegst, du Drecksack!” cried
the girl laughing.
“Get in, main Herr! We are your chauffeurs.
Just pray he stays on the road, ja! What hotel are
you staying ate”
“Actually, I’d rather not go back there. I’m
really very angry. I’d like to teach her a lesson by
staying away tonight. Do you think you could find
me a room? I’ll pay you even more, of course.
Frankly, I’ve been drinking a bit myself.”
“Ein betrunkener Tourist! Er will ein Hotel.
Fahren wir ihn ins Rosencafe?”
“sort sind mehr Nutten als der alte knocker schafft. ”
We are your guides, Amerikaner, ” said the
young man beside Converse. “We are students from
the university who will not only find you a room,
but with excellent prospects of getting back at your
wife with some pleasure! There’s also a cafe. You’ll
buy us a lager or six, ja?’
“All you want. But Ed also like to make a
telephone call. To the United States it’s business.
Will I be able to?”
“Most everyone in Bonn speaks English. If they
don’t at this Rosbencafe, 1, myself, will take care of