accepted in death.
“Christ, you’re drenched!” cried Henri, intense
concern in his eyes. “You’ve been walking in the rain,
haven’t you? There were no taxis?”
“I didn’t look, I wanted to walk.”
“Of course, the shock, I understand. I’ll send up
some brandy, some decent Armagnac. And dinner,
perhaps I’ll release your table at the
Gentilshommes.”
“Thanks. Give me thirty minutes and have your
switchboard get New York for me, will you? I never
seem to dial it right.”
“Joel?”
“What?”
“Can I help? Is there something you should tell
me? We have won and lost together over too many
grand cry bottles
36 ROBERT LUDLUM
for you to go alone when you don’t have to. I know
Geneva, my friend.”
Converse looked into the wide brown eyes, at
the lined face, rigid in its concern. “Why do you say
that?”
“Because you so quickly denied the police
reports of coeaine, what else? I watched you. There
was more in what you said than what you said.”
Joel blinked, and for a moment shut his eyelids
tight, the strain in the middle of his forehead acute.
He took a deep breath and replied. “Do me a favor,
Henri, and don’t speculate. Just get me an overseas
line in a half-hour, okay?”
“Entendu, monsieur,” said the Frenchman. “Le
concderge du R*hemond is here only to serve her
guests, special guests accorded special service, of
course…. I’m here if you need me, my friend.”
“I know that. If I turn a wrong card, I’ll let you
know.”
“If you have to turn any card in Switzerland, call
me. The suits vary with the players.”
“I’ll remember that. Thirty minutes? A line?”
“Certainement, monsieur.”
The shower was as hot as his skin could tolerate,
the steam filling his lungs, cutting short the breath
in his throat. He then forced himself to endure an
ice-cold spray until his head shivered. He reasoned
that the shock of extremes might clear his mind, at
least reduce the numbness. He had to think; he had
to decide; he had to listen.
He came out of the bathroom, his white
terrycloth robe blotting the residue of the shower,
and shoved his feet into a pair of slippers on the
floor beside the bed. He removed his cigarettes and
lighter from the bureau top, and walked into the
sitting room. The concerned Henri had been true to
his word; on the coffee table a floor steward had
placed a bottle of expensive Armagnac and two
glasses for appearance, not function. He sat down
on the soft, pillowed couch, poured himself a drink,
and lighted a cigarette. Outside, the heavy August
rain pounded the casement windows, the tattoo
harsh and unrelenting. He looked at his watch; it
was a few minutes past six shortly past noon in
New York. Joel wondered if Henri had been able to
get a clear transatlantic line. The lawyer in Converse
wanted to hear the words spoken from New York,
words that would either confirm or deny a dead
man’s revelation. It had been twenty-five minutes
since Henri had
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 37
stopped him on the staircase; he would wait another
five and call the switchboard.
The telephone rang, the blaring, vibrating
European bell unnerving him. He reached for the
phone on the table next to the couch; his breath was
short and his hand trembled.
byes? Hello?’
Chew York calling, monsieur,” said the hotel
operator. “It’s your office. Should I cancel the call
listed for six-fifteen?”
“Yes, please. And thank you.”
“Mr. Converse?” The intense, high-pitched voice
belonged to Lawrence Talbot’s secretary.
“Hello, Jane.”
“Good God, we’ve been trying to reach you since
ten o’clock! Are you all right? We heard the news
then, around ten. It’s all so horrible!”
“I’m fine, Jane. Thanks for your concern.”
“Mr. Talbot’s beside himself. He can’t believe it!”
“Don’t believe what they’re saying about Halliday.
It’s not true. May I speak with Larry, please?”
“If he knew you were on the phone talking to me,
I’d be fired.”
“No, you wouldn’t. Who’d write his letters?”
The secretary paused briefly, her voice calmer
when she spoke. “Oh, God, Joel, you’re the end.
After what you’ve been through, you still find
something funny to say.”
“It’s easier, Jane. Let me have Bubba, will you?”
“You are the limit!”
Lawrence Talbot, senior partner of Talbot,
Brooks and Simon, was a perfectly competent
attorney, but his rise in law was as much due to his
having been one of the few all-American football
players from Yale as from any prowess in the
courtroom. He was also a very decent human being
more of a coordinating coach than the driving force
of a conservative yet highly competitive law firm. He
was also eminently fair and fair-minded; he kept his
word. He was one of the reasons Joel had joined the
firm; another was Nathan Simon, a giant both of a
man and of an attorney. Converse had learned more
about the law from Nate Simon than from any other
lawyer or professor he had ever met. He felt closest
to Nathan, yet Simon was the most difficult to get
close to; one approached this uniquely private man
with equal parts of fondness and reserve.
38 ROBERT LUDLUM
Lawrence Talbot burst over the phone. ‘ Good
Lord, I’m appalled! What can I say? What can I
do?”
“To begin with, strike that horseshitabout
Halliday. He was no more a drug connection than
Nate Simon.”
“You haven’t heard, then? They’ve backed off
on that. The story now is violent robbery; he
resisted and the packets were stuffed under his shirt
after they shot him. I think Jack Halliday must have
burned the wires from San Francisco, threatened to
beat the crap out of the whole Swiss government….
He played for Stanford, you know.”
“You’re too much, Bubba.”
“I never thought I’d enjoy hearing that from you,
young man. I do now.”
“Young man and not so young, Larry. Clear
something up for me, will you?”
“Whatever I can.”
“Anstett. Lucas Anstett. ‘
“We talked. Nathan and I listened, and he was
most persuasive. We understand.”
“Do you?”
“Not the particulars certainly; he wouldn’t
elaborate. But we think you’re the best in the field,
and granting his request wasn’t difficult.. T., B. and
S. has the best, and when a judge like Anstett
confirms it through such a conversation, we have to
congratulate ourselves, don’t we?”
“Are you doing it because of his bench?”
“Christ, no. He even told us he’d be harder on
us in Appeals if we agreed. He’s one rough cookie
when he wants something. He tells you you’d be
worse off if you give it to him.”
“Did you believe him?”
“Well, Nathan said something about billy goats
having certain identifiable markings that were not
removed without a great deal of squealing, so we
should go along. Nathan frequently obfuscates
issues, but goddamnit, Joel, he’s usually right.”
“If you can take three hours to hear a
five-minute summation,” said Converse.
“He’s always thinking, young man.”
“Young and not so young. Everything’s relative.”
“Your wife called…. Sorry, your ex-wife.”
“Oh?”
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 39
“Your name came up on the radio or television
or something, and she wanted to know what
happened.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That we were trying to reach you. We didn’t
know any more than she did. She sounded very
upset.”
Call her and tell her I’m fine, will you, please?
Do you have the number?”
Jane does.”
“I’ll be leaving, then.”
“On full pay,” said Talbot from New York.
“That’s not necessary, Larry. I’m being given a
great deal of money, so save the bookkeeping. I’ll be
back in three or four weeks.”
“I could do that, but I won’t,” said the senior
partner. “I know when I’ve got the best and I intend
to hold him. We’ll bank it for you.” Talbot paused,
then spoke quietly, urgently. “Joel, I have to ask you.
Did this thing a few hours ago have anything to do
with the Anstett business?”
Converse gripped the telephone with such force
his wrist and fingers ached. “Nothing whatsoever,
Larry,” he said. “There’s no connection.”
Mykonos, the sun-drenched, whitewashed island
of the Cyclades, neighboring worshiper of Delos.
Since Barbarossa’s conquest it had been host to
successive brigands of the sea who sailed on the
Meltemi winds Turks, Russians, Cypriots, finally
Greeks placed and displaced over the centuries, a
small landmass alternately honored and forgotten
until the arrival of sleek yachts and shining aircraft,
symbols of a different age. Low-slung
automobiles Porsches, Maseratis, ~Jaguars now
sped over the narrow roads past starch-white
windmills and alabaster churches; a new type of
inhabitant had joined the laconic, tradition-bound
residents who made their livings from the sea and
the shops. Free-spirited youths of all ages, with their
open shirts and tight pants, their sunburned skins
serving as foil for adornments of heavy gold, had
found a new playground. And ancient Mykonos, once
a major port to the proud Phoenicians, had become