Robert Ludlum – Aquatain Progression

”Johann. My hands are on the table. They’ve

been on the table since we sat down.”

“What . . . ?” The young Cerman blinked and

looked at Converse’s forearms, both of which were

in front of him, his hands clasped on the white

metal surface. “You have no gun?”

“Oh, yes, I have a gun. I took it from a man who

would have killed me if he’d had the chance.” Joel

reached into his pocket as Johann stiffened.

“Cigarettes,” said Converse, taking out a pack and a

book of matches. “It’s a terrible habit. Don’t start if

you don’t smoke.”

“It’s very expensive.”

“Among other things. ” Joel struck a match,

lighting a cigarette, his eyes remaining on the

student. “We’ve talked off and on since last night.

Except for a few moments back there in the crowd

when you could have had me Iynched, do I look or

sound like the man described in that newspaper

story?”

“I am no more a doctor than a lawyer.”

“Two points for the opposition. The burden of

sanity’s on me. Besides, it said I appeared perfectly

normal.”

“It said you suffered a great deal.”

“Several hundred years ago, but no more than

thousands of others and far, far less than some

fifty-eight thousand who never came back. I don’t

think an insane man is capable of making a rational

remark like that under these circumstances do you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

‘~I’m trying to tell you that everything you just read

to

THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 363

me is an example of a man being tried by negative

journalism. Truths mixed with half-truths, distortions,

and implausible judgments were slanted to support

the lies that are meant to convict me. There’s not a

court in any civilised country that would admit that

kind of testimony or permit a jury to hear t.

“Men have been killed,” said Johann, again his

words whispered. “The ambassador was killed.”

“Not by me. I wasn’t anywhere near the

Adenauer Bridge at eight o’clock last night. I don’t

even know where it is.”

“Where were you?’

“Not where anyone saw me, if that’s what you

mean. And those who know I couldn’t have been at

the bridge would be the last people on earth to say

so.”

“There has to be some evidence of where you

were.” The young German nodded at the cigarette in

Converse’s hand. “Perhaps one of those. Perhaps you

finished a cigarette.”

“Or finger or foot prints? Pieces of clothing?

There’s all of that, but they don’t tell the time.”

“There are methods,” corrected Johann. “The

advances in the technology of. . . Forschung. . . the

investigation techniques have been rapid.”

“Let me finish that for you. I’m not a criminal

lawyer but I know what you’re saying. Theoretically,

for example, the ground depression of a footprint

matched with the scrapings off my shoes could put

me where I was within the hour.”

‘7a!”

“No. I’d be dead before a scrap of evidence

reached a laboratory.”

“Why?”

“I can’t tell you. I wish to God I could but I can’t.”

“Again, I must ask why?” The fear in the young

man’s eyes was joined by disappointment, the last

glimpse of believability, perhaps, gone with Joel’s

refusal to explain.

“Because I can’t, I won’t. You said a few minutes

ago that I’d done enough to you, and without

meaning to, I have. But I won’t do this. You’re not

in a position to do anything but get yourself killed.

That’s as frankly as I can put it, Johann.”

“I see.”

“No you don’t, but I wish there was a way to

convince you that I have to reach others. People who

can do something.

364 ROBERT LUDLUM

They’re not here; they renot in Bonn, but I’ll reach

them if I can get away.”

“There’s something else? You would have me do

something else?” The young German stiffened again,

and again his hands trembled.

“No. I don’t want you to do anything. I’m asking

you not to do anything at least for a while.

Nothing. Give me a chance to get out of here and

somehow get in touch with people who can help

me help all of us.”

“All of us?”

“I mean that, and it’s all I’ll say.”

“These people are not to be found in your own

embassy A merikaner?”

Converse looked hard at Johann, his eyes as

steady as he could manage. “Ambassador Walter

Peregrine was killed by one or more men at that

embassy. They came to kill me last night at the

hotel.”

Johann breathed deeply, taking his eyes offJoel

and staring down at the table. “Back at the kiosk, in

the crowd, when you threatened me . . . you said

three men had been killed already three decent

men.”

“I’m sorry. I was desperate.”

“It wasn’t simply that, it was what you said right

afterward. You said why should I be the exception.

Because I was young? That was no reason, you

claimed, and then you shouted very strange

words I remember them precisely. You said,

‘When you come right down to it, who the hell are

we dying for?’ It was more than a question, I think.”

“I won’t discuss the implications of that remark,

counselor. And I can’t tell you what to do. I can

only tell you what I’ve told dozens of clients over

the years. When a decision is reduced to several

strong opposing arguments mine included and

you’ve listened to them all, put them behind you

and follow your own gut instinct. Depending upon

who and what you are, it’ll be the right one for you.”

Converse paused, pushing back his chair. “Now I’m

going to get up and walk out of here. If you start

screaming, I’ll run and try to hide somewhere where

I’ll be safe before anyone recognises me. Then I’ll

do whatever I can do. If you don’t set off an alarm,

I’ll have a better chance, and that in my view would

be best for all of us. You could go to the

university library and come out in an hour or so,

buy a paper, and go to the police. I’d expect

THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 365

you to do that, if you felt you had to. That’s my view.

I don’t know what yours is. Good-bye, Johann.”

Joel rose from the table, bringing his hand

instantly to his face, his fingers spread, touching his

eyebrows. He turned and walked through the tables

to the pavement, veering right, heading for the first

intersection. He barely took a breath; his lungs were

bursting for air but he dared not let even a breath

impair his hearing. He waited as he walked, his pulse

accelerating, his ears so keenly tuned that the

slightest dissonance would have burned them.

There were only the sounds of the excited street

conversations in counterpoint with the blaring horns

of taxis not the screams of a young male voice

raising an alarm. He walked faster, entering the flow

of pedestrians crossing the

square faster,faster passing strollers who saw no

need to rush. He reached the curb of the opposite

pavement and slowed down a rapidly walking man

called attention to himself. Yet the impulse to break

into a run was almost uncontrollable the farther he

distanced himself from the tables of the sidewalk

bakery-cafe. His ear had picked up no alarm and

every split second of that absence told him to race

into whatever secluded side streets he could find.

Nothing. Nothing broke the discordant sounds of

the square, but there was a change, a discernible

change, and it had nothing to do with strident alarms

provoked by a single screaming voice. The discordant

sounds themselves had become subdued, replaced by

shrugs and relaxed gestures indicating inability to

comprehend. The word Amerikaner was repeated

everywhere. The panic initially ignited by the news

had passed. An American had killed an American; it

was not a German assassin, or a Communist, or even

a terrorist who had eluded the Federal Republic’s

security arrangements. Life could go on; Deutschland

could not be held responsible for the death and the

citizens of Bonn breathed a sigh of relief.

Converse spun around the corner of a brick

building and stared across the square at the tables of

the bakery-cafe. The student, Johann, remained in

his chair, his head bowed, supported by both hands,

reading the newspaper. Then he got up and walked

into the bakery itself. Was there a telephone insider

Would he talk to someone?

How long, can I waits thought Converse, prepared

to run, as instinct held him back.

366 ROBERT LUDLUM

Johann came out of the bakery carrying a tray of

coffee and rolls. He sat down and meticulously

separated the plates from the tray and once again

stared at the newspaper in front of him. Then he

looked up at nothing in particular as if he knew he

was being watched by unseen eyes and nodded

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