The Aquitaine Progression (33 page)

“All I knew was that you’re pretty uptight about that attaché case. I don’t know what’s in it and I figure you don’t want anyone else to know, either.”

“Bingo, counselor.”

There was a knocking at the door, and although it was soft, it had the effect of a staccato burst of thunder. Both men stood motionless, their eyes riveted on the door.

“Ask who it is,” whispered Converse.

“Wer ist da, bitte?”
said Fitzpatrick, loud enough to be heard. There was a brief reply in German and Connal breathed again. “It’s okay. It’s a message for me from the manager. He probably wants to sell us a conference room.” The Navy lawyer went to the door and opened it.

However, it was not the manager, or a bellboy, or a porter bringing a message from the manager. Instead, standing there, was a slender, elderly man in a dark suit with erect posture and very broad shoulders. He glanced first at Fitzpatrick, then looked beyond at Converse.

“Excuse me, please, Commander,” he said courteously, walking through the door, and approached Joel, his hand outstretched. “Herr Converse, may I introduce myself? The name is Leifhelm. Erich Leifhelm.”

Joel took the German’s hand, too stunned to do anything else. “Field Marshal …?” he uttered, instantly regretting it—he could at least have had the presence of mind to say “General.” The pages of Leifhelm’s dossier flashed across Converse’s mind as he looked at the man—his straight hair, still more blond than white, his pale-blue eyes glacial, his pinkish skin lined, waxen, as if preserved for decades to come.

“An old title and one, thankfully, I have not heard in many years. But you flatter me. You were sufficiently interested to learn something of my past.”

“Not very much.”

“I suspect enough.” Leifhelm turned to Fitzpatrick. “I apologize for my little ruse, Commander. I felt it was best.”

Fitzpatrick shrugged, bewildered. “You know each other, apparently.”

“
Of
one another,” corrected the German. “Mr. Converse came to Bonn to meet with me, but I imagine he’s told you that.”

“No, I haven’t told him that,” said Joel.

Leifhelm turned back, studying Converse’s eyes. “I see. Perhaps we should talk privately.”

“I think so.” Joel looked over at Fitzpatrick. “Commander, I’ve taken up too much of your time. Why not go downstairs to dinner and I’ll join you in a while?”

“Whatever you say, sir,” said Connal, an officer assuming
the status of an aide. He nodded and left, closing the door firmly behind him.

“A lovely room,” said Leifhelm, taking several steps toward the open French doors. “And with such a lovely view.”

“How did you find me?” asked Converse.

“Him,” replied the former field marshal, looking at Joel. “
Ein Offizier
, according to the front desk. Who is he?”

“How?” repeated Converse.

“He spent hours last night at the airport inquiring about you; many remembered him. He was obviously a friend.”

“And you knew he’d checked his luggage? That he’d be back for it?”

“Frankly, no. We thought he might come for yours. We knew you wouldn’t. Now, please, who is he?”

Joel understood it was vital that he maintain a level of arrogance, as he had done with Bertholdier in Paris. It was the only route he could take with such men; to be accepted by them, they had to see something of themselves in him. “He’s not important and he knows nothing. He’s a legal officer in the Navy who’s worked in Bonn before and is over here now, I gather, on personal business. A prospective fiancée, I think he mentioned. I saw him the other week; we chatted, and I told him I was flying in today or tomorrow and he said he’d make it a point to meet me. He’s obsequious, and persistent. I’m sure he has delusions of a civilian practice. Naturally—under the circumstances—I used him. As you did.”

“Naturally.” Leifhelm smiled; he
was
polished. “You gave him no arrival time?”

“Paris changed any possibility of that, didn’t it?”

“Oh, yes, Paris. We must discuss Paris.”

“I spoke to a friend who deals with the Sûreté. The man died.”

“Such men do. Frequently.”

“They said he was a driver, a chauffeur. He wasn’t.”

“Would it have been wiser to say he was a trusted associate of General Jacques-Louis Bertholdier?”

“Obviously not. They say I killed him.”

“You did. We gather it was an uncontrollable miscalculation, no doubt brought on by the man himself.”

“Interpol’s after me.”

“We, too, have friends; the situation will change. You have nothing to fear—as long as
we
have nothing to fear.” The German paused, glancing around the room. “May I sit down?”

“Please. Shall I ring for a drink?”

“I drink only light wine and very sparingly. Unless you wish … it’s not necessary.”

“It’s not necessary,” said Converse as Leifhelm sat in a chair nearest the balcony doors. Joel would sit when he felt the moment was right, not before.

“You took extraordinary measures at the airport to avoid us,” continued Hitler’s youngest field marshal.

“I was followed from Copenhagen.”

“Very observant of you. You understand no harm was intended.”

“I didn’t understand anything. I just didn’t like it. I didn’t know what effect Paris would have on my arrival in Bonn, what it meant to you.”

“What Paris meant?” asked Leifhelm rhetorically. “Paris meant that a man, an attorney using a false name, said some very alarming things to a most distinguished and brilliant statesman. This attorney, who called himself Simon, said he was flying to Bonn to see me. On his way—and I’m sure with provocation—he kills a man, which tells us something; he’s quite ruthless and very capable. But that is all we know; we would like to know more. Where he goes, whom he meets. In our position, would you have done otherwise?”

It was the moment to sit down. “I would have done it better.”

“Perhaps if we’d known how resourceful you were, we might have been less obvious. Incidentally, what happened in Paris? What did that man do to provoke you?”

“He tried to stop me from leaving.”

“Those were not his orders.”

“Then he grossly misunderstood them. I’ve a few bruises on my chest and neck to prove it. I’m not in the habit of physically defending myself, and I certainly had no intention of killing him. In fact, I didn’t know I had. It was an accident purely in self-defense.”

“Obviously. Who would want such complications?”

“Exactly,” agreed Converse bluntly. “As soon as I can rearrange my last hours in Paris so as to eliminate any mention of my seeing General Bertholdier, I’ll return and explain what happened to the police.”

“As the adage goes, that may be easier said than done. You were seen talking together at L’Etalon Blanc. Undoubtedly, the general was recognized later when he came to the
hotel; he’s a celebrated man. No, I think you’d be wiser to let us handle it. We
can
, you know.”

Joel looked hard at the German, his eyes cold yet questioning. “I admit there are risks doing it my way. I don’t like them and neither would my client. On the other hand, I can’t go around being hunted by the police.”

“The hunt will be called off. It will be necessary for you to remain out of sight for a few days, but by then new instructions will be issued from Paris. Your name will disappear from the Interpol lists; you’ll no longer be sought.”

“I’ll want assurances, guarantees.”

“What better could you have than my word? I tell you nothing when I tell you that we could have far more to lose than you.”

Converse controlled his astonishment. Leifhelm had just told him a great deal, whether he knew it or not. The German had as much as admitted he was part of a covert organization that could not take any chance of exposure. It was the first concrete evidence Joel had heard. Somehow it was too easy. Or were these elders of Aquitaine simply frightened old men?

“I’ll concede that,” said Converse, crossing his legs. “Well, General, you found me before I found you, but then, as we agreed, my movements are restricted. Where do we go from here?”

“Precisely where you wanted to go, Mr. Converse. When you were in Paris, you spoke of Bonn, Tel Aviv, Johannesburg. You knew whom to reach in Paris and whom to look for in Bonn. That impresses us greatly; we must assume you know more.”

“I’ve spent months in detailed research—on behalf of my client, of course.”

“But who are you? Where do you come from?”

Joel felt a sharp, sickening ache in his chest. He had felt it many times before; it was his physical response to imminent danger and very real fear. “I am who I want people to think I am, General Leifhelm. I’m sure you can understand that.”

“I see,” said the German, watching him closely. “A sworn companion of the prevailing winds, but with the power beneath to carry you to your own destination.”

“That’s a little heavy, but I guess it says it. As to where I come from, I’m sure you know that by now.”

Five hours. More than enough time to put the puppets in place. A killing in New York; it had to be dealt with
.

“Only bits and pieces, Mr. Converse. And even if we knew more, how could we be certain it’s true? What people think you are you may not be.”

“Are you, General?”

“
Ausqezeichnet!
” said Leifhelm, slapping his knee and laughing. It was a genuine laugh, the man’s waxen face creasing with humor. “You are a fine lawyer,
mein Herr
. You answer—as they say in English—a pointed question with another question that is both an answer and an indictment.”

“Under the circumstances, it’s merely the truth. Nothing more.”

“Also modest. Very commendable, very attractive.”

Joel uncrossed his legs, then crossed them again impatiently. “I don’t like compliments, General. I don’t trust them—under the circumstances. You were saying before about where I wanted to go, about Bonn, Tel Aviv, and Johannesburg. What did you mean?”

“Only that we have complied with your wishes,” said Leifhelm, spreading his hands in front of him. “Rather than your making such tedious trips, we have asked our representatives in Tel Aviv and Johannesburg, as well as Bertholdier, of course, to fly to Bonn for a conference. With you, Mr. Converse.”

He had done it! thought Joel. They
were
frightened—panicked was perhaps the better description. Despite the pounding and the pain in his chest, he spoke slowly, quietly. “I appreciate your consideration, but in all frankness, my client isn’t ready for a summit. He wanted to understand the parts before he looked further at the whole. The spokes support the wheel, sir. I was to report how strong they were—how strong they appeared to me.”

“Oh, yes, your client. Who is he, Mr. Converse?”

“I’m sure General Bertholdier told you I’m not at liberty to say.”

“You were in San Francisco, California—”

“Where a great deal of my research was done,” interrupted Joel. “It’s not where my client lives. Although I readily admit there’s a man in San Francisco—Palo Alto, to be exact—whom I’d like very much to
be
my client.”

“Yes, yes, I see.” Leifhelm put the ends of his fingers together as he continued, “Am I to understand that you reject the conference here in Bonn?”

Converse had taken a thousand such questions in opening
gambits with attorneys seeking accommodations between corporate adversaries. Both parties wanted the same thing; it was simply a question of flattening out the responsibility so that no one party would be the petitioner.

“Well, you’ve gone to a lot of trouble,” Joel began. “And as long as it’s understood that I have the option of speaking to each man individually should I wish to do so, I can’t see any harm.” Converse permitted himself a strained smile, as he 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. “I 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 be dealt with—the first of two obstacles, two sharp, sickening aches in his chest
.

“By the way,” said Joel, releasing the field marshal’s hand. “There was a news item on the BBC this morning that interested me—so much that I phoned an associate. A man was killed in New York, a judge. They say it was a revenge killing,
a contract put out by organized crime. Did you happen to hear anything about it?”

“
I?
” asked Leifhelm, his blond-white eyebrows raised, his waxlike 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.”