concealing his legal papers, sometimes under a bed
or in the back of a closet. ‘
He left nothing here, sir. The room was
thoroughly examined and cleaned by our staff.”
“Perhaps someone came to see him and took the
wrong
382 ROBERT LUDLUM
case.” Converse knew he was pressing but there was
no reason not to.
‘ He had no visitors.” The German paused. “Just
one moment, I do recall now.”
Yes?”
“You say a flat briefcase, what is generally
referred to as an attache case?”
“Yes!”
“He carried it with him. It was in his hand when he
left.”
“Oh . . . ” Joel tried to recover quickly. “Then if
you’ll just tell me what forwarding address he left,
what hotel he went to.”
“I’m sorry, sir. There were no such instructions.”
“Somebody had to make a reservation for him!
Rooms are tight in Bonul”
“Please, sir. I myself offered to try, but he
refused my aid somewhat discourteously, I might
add.”
“I’m sorry.” Joel was annoyed that he had lost
control. “Those legal papers were important. Then
you have no idea where he went?”
“But I do, sir, if one wishes to be humored. I
made a point of asking. He said he was going to the
Bahnhof; the train station. If anyone asked for him,
we were to say he was sleeping in a baggage locker.
I’m afraid it was also meant discourteous
The train station? A locker! It was a message!
Fitzpatrick was telling him where to look! Without
speaking further, Converse hung up the phone, left
the booth, and went to the counter. He paid for
both calls and thanked the operator, wanting to
leave her a tip but knowing it would only call at-
tension to him. “You’ve been very kind and, if I
may, one last favor.”
“Sir?”
“Where is the train station?”
“You can’t miss it. Turn left out of the building
and walk four streets, then left again for two more.
It is one of the more uncertain prides of Bonn.”
“You’ve been very kind.”
Joel hurried down the pavement, constantly
reminding himself to check his speed. Everything
depended on control now, eve~7,~thing. Every
move he made had to be normal even casual,
nothing to cause anyone to take a second glance at
him. Mattilon had told him to take a train;
Fitzpatrick had
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 383
told him to go to the train station a locker! It was
another omen! He was beginning to think that such
a thing did exist.
He walked through the large open doors of the
entrance and turned to his right toward the row of
lockers where he had left the attache case before
heading out to the Alter Zoll to meet “Avery
Fowler.” He reached the locker itself; there was a
key in it, nothing inside. He began scrutinising the
lockers around it, on both sides, below, not at all
sure what he was looking for but knowing there
would be something. He found it! Two rows above on
the left! The initials were small but clear, scratched
into the metal by a strong, precise hand: C.F. Connal
Fitzpatrick!
The Navy lawyer had done it! He had put the
explosive papers back where only the two of them
knew where they would be. Suddenly Converse felt
sick. How could he get them out? How could he get
inside? He looked around the station at the summer
crowds. The huge clock read two-thirty, in two and a
half hours the of flees would be closed the business
day over, the crowds fuller. Mattilon had told him to
reach Emmerich during the busiest time, when
workers traveled back and forth across the border at
the end of the day, and it took nearly two hours to
reach Emmerich, if there was a train. He had less
than a half hour to get inside the locker.
There was an information booth at the far end of
the cavernous station. He walked toward it, his mind
again racing, choosing words that might produce a
key. The abrasive weight of the money belt around
his waist gave him a glimpse of hope.
“Thank you very much, ‘ he said to the clerk, his
tortoiseshell glasses perched on his nose, the cloth
hat falling over his forehead. He had been assigned
an English-speaking, middle-aged information
dispenser with a pinched face and a bored, irritated
expression. “Quite simply I’ve lost the key to the
locker in which I stored my luggage and I have to get
a train to Emmerich. By the way, when is the next
one?”
“Ach, it is always ze case,” replied the clerk,
thumbing a schedule. “Zozzing but trouble wiz zer
sommer people. You lose ziss, you lose zat; and you
expect everyone to help youl Zer train for Emmerich
left twenty-seven minutes ago. Zer iss another in
nineteen minuted, but nozzing after that for an
hour.”
“Thank you. I have to be on it. Now, about the
locker?”
384 ROBERT LUDLUM
Joel removed a hundred-deutsche-mark note below
the counter and raised it slowly above the ledge.
“It’s very important that I get my luggage and take
that train. May I shake your hand for helping me?”
“It will be donet” exclaimed the clerk quietly,
looking to his right and left, as he grasped
Converse’s hand and the money. He picked up the
phone at his side and dialed abusively. “Schnell! Wir
masses ein Schliessfach offnen. Standort zehn A
uskunit!” He slammed down the phone and looked
up atJoel, a smile sculpted onto his rigid lips. “A
man will be here instantly to be of service. We are
always eager to be of service. The Amerikanen, so
thoughtful.”
The man came, bulging out of his railroad
uniform, his eyes dull, his authority questionable.
“Was ist?”
The clerk explained in German, then looked
again at Converse. “He speaks some English, not
well, of course, but adequately, and he will assist
you.”
“Zer are our regulations,” said the official keeper
of the locker keys. “Come, show me.”
“Happy birthday,” said Joel to the clerk behind
the information booth.
“It is not my birthday, sir.’
“How would you know?’, asked Converse,
smiling, taking the fat man’s arm.
“Zer are procedures,,, said the railroad
bureaucrat, opening the locker with a master key.
“You will sign for zer contents at zer office.
It was there! His attache case was on its side,
nothing broken or slashed. He reached into his
pocket and took out his money. “I’m in a great
hurry,~’ he said as he slipped out first a
hundred-deutsche-mark note, then, with hesitation,
another. “My train leaves in a few minutes.” He
shook the German’s hand, passing the money, and
asked calmly but with cheerful friendliness in his
eyes. “Couldn’t you say it was a mistaken,
“It vas a mistaker’ answered the uniformed man
enthusiastically. “You must catch a trains”
“Thank you. You’re a nice person. Happy birthday.’
“I know, don’t bother. Thank you again.”
Glancing around rapidly but subtly, hoping
against hope that no one was watching him, Joel
walked to an unoccupied wooden bench against the
wall, sat down, and opened the attache
case everything was there. But he could not keep
it.
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION 385
Again he looked around the station, knowing what
he had to find; he saw it. A drugstore or its
equivalent, there would be envelopes somewhere
inside. He closed the briefcase and got up, trusting
someone in the store would speak English.
“Nearly all of Us speak English,” said the
matronly woman behind the counter near the
stationery section. ‘it is practically a requirement,
especially during the summer months. What are your
needs?”
“I have to send a business report back to the
United States,” answered Converse, a large, thick
envelope and a roll of tape in his right hand, the
attache case in his left, ‘but my train leaves in a few
minutes and I don’t have time to get to a post office.
‘
“There are several post-collection boxes in the
Bahnhof; sir.
“I need stamps, postage. I don’t know how
much,” said Joel helplessly.
“If you will put your materials in the envelope,
seal it and address it, I shall weigh the package and
suggest the appropriate amount of stamping. We
keep sheets here for convenience, but they are more
expensive than in the post office.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’d like it to go airmail, with
more postage rather than less.” Five minutes later
Converse handed the accommodating clerk the
heavily sealed package for weighing. He had written
a note on the top of the first dossier and printed the
address clearly on the front of the envelope. The
woman returned with the appropriate postage. He
paid her and placed the envelope on the counter in
front of him.
“Thank you,” he said, looking at his watch, as he
began frantically licking the stamps and securing
them. “Would you by any chance know where I can
buy a ticket to . . . Emmerich or Arnhem, I guess?”