Program for a Puppet (38 page)

“What the hell are you doing?” Graham yelled at the telephone. He could see the police flasher.

“Mr. Graham, keep going as planned. Just drive,” Guichard said.

There was no chance to draw the Maserati to the outskirts of the city now. The colonel rattled off orders to the other cars. They closed on the Maserati, which sat at the lights to Pont d'Issay, thirty yards behind the Peugeot.

Rodriguez could see the police car pushing toward him.

“Go right!” he ordered and pointed across the bridge. Martinez skidded the Maserati away fast. Once over Pont d'Issay, Martinez made two illegal right turns which took them down a slip road to Quai Louis Blériot, running north beside the river. He then accelerated with Guichard's fleet and the maverick police car in pursuit a hundred yards behind and slipping away. Rodriguez kept looking back as the Maserati hit a hundred miles an hour at Avenue de President Kennedy. He knew they would have to get off the main one-way road, or risk being trapped.

“Take the next slip road,” he said as they hit Avenue New York.

The Maserati slowed as they approached the stretch of the avenue which ran under Pond d'Ienna. Martinez adroitly swung left off the avenue, up the slip road, and straight into trouble. A police car following Guichard's orders to block off the avenue ahead of the Maserati, was coming the wrong way down the same slip road. Both drivers did well to avoid a head-on crash as the police car smacked the rear side of the Maserati. It hit a railing on the side of the road and spun side-on. Martinez frantically turned the ignition. It coughed to a start at the third try. He spun the wheel to turn the car. But a back fender had been wedged against a tire. Another police car appeared at the top of the slip road and blocked the Maserati's path. Rodriguez, armed with his machine gun, was out of the car first.

Guichard's fleet had reached the bottom of the slip road. Martinez fell out, holding a machine gun that had been on the back seat. Rodriguez ran toward the car at the top of the slip road and opened fire. He brought down two policemen.

Martinez ran down the slip road toward Avenue New York. Two distinct orders told him to surrender. He ignored them and wielded his gun in a wide arc, firing at everything that moved. It was the signal for fifteen weapons to open up on him. The bullet that stopped him slithered through his neck. Within five seconds,
a tremendous onslaught of lead lifted his feet off the ground and dumped him in the middle of the slip road.

At the top, Rodriguez made a bid to escape on foot. But his way was blocked by police cars on the approach to Pont d'lenna. He ran straight across the approach and down another slip road leading back onto Avenue New York. Orders were being shouted from every direction. Several people had spotted him. When Guichard's car screeched to a half at the foot of the road, Rodriguez opened fire wildly and ran back up the road to the bridge. He blasted his way past several of Guichard's men, who scattered behind cars. He ran for the other side of the bridge. Lights from a line of four cars were turned on high beam in front of him. Seconds later, the whole bridge was floodlit. Rodriguez was caught in the spotlight.

“Surrender. You cannot escape!” Guichard called, using a bullhorn. The terrorist fired blindly in both directions along the bridge. Guichard signaled for him to be brought down.

Marksmen at each end aimed. There was a sharp crack. One bullet shattered Rodriguez's forearm. A second hit him in the left side and spun him to the ground. A third bullet cannoned into his chest, and the chase was over.

Twenty minutes later, Graham, who had driven straight on toward the original destination, answered Colonel Guichard's radio call to Avenue New York. He arrived in time to see the bullet-ridden bodies of the two terrorists. An ambulance team was attending four of Guichard's men hit in the shoot-out, three of them seriously. Guichard thanked Graham sincerely for his help and apologized profusely for the bungle.

“Today we start a big manhunt for the Director,” Guichard said wearily. “If your theory that he has worked with Rodriguez is correct, and he is in Paris, he will be in hiding. But you can have round-the-clock protection while you are—”

“Thank you. But it won't be necessary any more.”

“What are your plans?”

“I'll fly back to London soon. There are a few things I still have to do here.”

“
Bon
. If I could ask you to come to HQ before you go so that we can complete our official report?”

“Of course.”

“Please, have the car until you leave, and use the radio phone if you want to contact me.”

“Thank you.”

They shook hands and Graham drove up the slip road past police hoisting the battered Maserati onto a breakdown truck.

Back at his hotel, Graham decided to ring Revel.

“Are you sure it was Rodriguez?” the lawyer asked.

“Guichard is pretty certain. They're going to run fingerprint, dental and other tests on him to check.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Get some shut-eye.”

“Ed, I know you've had a rough night, but could you check something out? It could be important. You know we've been monitoring Philpott's movements. Well, we've found out that he will try to make a secret rendezvous with Haussermann. Apparently Lasercomp is going to fly him in and out of Paris tomorrow.”

“When and where?”

“The plane's expected to arrive at Orly around noon at the private flights section, runway five.”

“You want me to tail him?”

“If you could. It would be interesting to know if he makes contact with Haussermann. But don't take any risks.”

“I'll do what I can.”

“Thanks. It could just lead to the tape.”

“How did Rickard's speech go?”

“Very well. Though, Christ, he looked fragile!”

“What do the polls say?”

“He's about half a percent ahead of Mineva.”

In his Pigalle hideout, the Director listened grim-faced to the Paris 8:00
P.M
. radio news as it told him the reason his assassination crew had not been in contact….

“Though police would not confirm that one of the men killed in the shoot-out was the notorious assassin-terrorist known as Rodriguez, they did not deny it. He was responsible for the deaths of three French Intelligence men five years ago.”

He switched it off and immediately phoned Znorel in Stuttgart.

“This is the Director.”

“I told you never to call unless there was an emergency!”

“This is an emergency. The others had an accident early this morning on the way to see Mr. Graham. You'll hear it on the news.”

“This should not alter the main assignment. Get Haussermann to meet Philpott and give him the tape this afternoon. Clear?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You have no need to call this number again—under any circumstances. Understood?”

“Yes.” The Director hung up. He went into the living room of the apartment where Haussermann was already up reading the Sunday papers. The shoot-out had occurred too late for them to run the story.

The Director sat down on a couch and, without looking at Haussermann, began to wipe his glasses.

“There has been a change of plans,” he said.

“Wh-why?”

“You don't ask why,” the Director said curtly. “Just listen to instructions! You will call Philpott at the Intercontinental Hotel at one
P.M
. You will make a rendezvous with him for two
P.M
. I shall tell you where later this morning. At this meeting you will hand over the tape. After that, you will not return here until eleven
P.M
. on Monday night. I shall work out a route for you to return by, and which hotel you should stay at tonight.” He finished polishing his glasses, tried them on, and looked at Haussermann. “Just in case you have any ideas about disobeying orders and trying to run away,” he added icily, “I shall keep your passport and plane ticket here.”

 

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 2

Light rain was falling in the afternoon as Graham watched the private Lasercomp jet arrive at Orly.

He waited in the Peugeot and spotted Philpott and a film crew moving out of the airport lounge half an hour later. They piled into a waiting station wagon with their equipment. Graham followed it to 40 Avenue Mahon off the Arc de Triomphe in the center of Paris.

The Australian pulled his Peugeot into the curb about thirty yards from where Philpott and the crew disappeared into a doorway.

Despite the bad weather, the avenue was alive with Parisians buying from stall merchants selling their flowers, food and wine. Graham decided to get out of the car to make sure he saw whoever came and went from number forty. As he swung the door open on the pavement side, he grazed a man scurrying past.

“
Excusez moi
,” Graham said.

The man looked at him with frightened, darting eyes, and moved on. It was Haussermann. He moved past number forty and stopped to look back.

Graham crossed the road to a flower stall and immediately started up a conversation with a bristly-chinned little man.

“Some flowers for a special lady, monsieur,” Graham said in French.

The flower-seller chuckled. “You are in love, monsieur?”

“
Oui
.”

“Then of course it must be roses.” He reached for a bunch. Graham pretended to be watching the curves of an attractive woman across the road. He nudged the flower-seller, who croaked a laugh and nodded his approval. The woman had moved close to the direct line with number forty and Graham caught a glimpse of Haussermann. He had walked past the door and close to Graham's car again.

“How much?” Graham asked.

“Twenty francs.”

Haussermann moved past number forty again.

“You are generous, monsieur,” Graham said, doffing his brown velvet beret to the Frenchman with a sweeping gesture. The flower-seller eyed the beret and complimented the Australian on it.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Haussermann, who had stopped and was looking around.

“It's yours,” Graham said, placing it on the flower-seller's head.

“Oh, no! No, no, no, no, no!” he protested as Graham stood back to admire him in it, just far enough to see Haussermann move inside the doorway to number forty. Graham waved goodbye to
the flower-seller, who pleaded, “Ah, monsieur! It is so expensive! Please …!” The Australian walked briskly back to his car and got in.

Two hours later Philpott and the crew emerged from number forty in a hurry and got into the station wagon. Graham was in two minds now. Should he follow Philpott, or wait for Haussermann? Philpott's car veered right of Avenue Mahon toward the air terminal, indicating that the American might be heading for the airport and the U.S. Graham pulled the car away from the curb. The furtive figure of Haussermann jumping into the back seat of another taxi made Graham's mind up. He would follow the fugitive.

Five minutes later Haussermann was dropped off at the Hotel Roosevelt close to the Champs Elysees, where he checked in for two nights. When he had moved to the elevator Graham also checked in and immediately put a call through to airline reservations. Then he rang Revel.

“I'm pretty certain Haussermann has given Philpott the tape and there has been a filmed interview. They met for a couple of hours. Philpott's probably on his way back to the U.S.”

“Thanks, Ed. I can get things moving at this end.”

“Good. I'm still on Haussermann's tail. We're both checked in at the Hotel Roosevelt.”

On the flight from Paris back to Washington, Philpott was feeling particularly satisfied. Everything seemed to have gone according to plan. He had the Haussermann tape tucked away in his combination-lock briefcase, and the film of the interview was safely in the can. Philpott was set to produce the most important show of his career. He expected it to clinch a presidential election for Mineva. These gratifying thoughts swept him happily from Dulles airport to FBS's Washington studio and Bilby's office. But the ashen face of the network president blacked them out.

“Christ! Have you got it?” he asked.

Philpott nodded and began to unlock the case. “What's wrong?”

“There is a big doubt about the tape's authenticity.” Bilby grabbed the small metal canister from Philpott. “Apparently someone in Paris tipped off the White House that you had managed to get the tape from Haussermann. Now my board has called
a meeting.” He opened the door. “I've got to play it to them right now. They also want to view the rushes of your TV interview with Haussermann as soon as they're in….”

Haussermann stayed in his room in the Roosevelt the rest of Sunday. Graham relieved the boredom by having a light snack and coffee, and taking an occasional stroll without venturing too far from the hotel. At 1:00
A.M
. he paid the concierge two hundred francs to alert his room should Haussermann check out suddenly in the night, and then went to bed.

“At 4:00
A.M
. he was startled awake by a steady buzz from the telephone. His first thought was that Haussermann must be on the move again. But it was Revel.

“Cary Bilby has been fired by his own board. Carruthers is now acting president of FBS.”

“Is it over the tape?”

“Yes. Bilby insisted it should be played along with the Haussermann interview as an exclusive on Philpott's show tomorrow night. Not one member of the board supported him. They took a vote on suspending his position as president. And he was out!”

“What about Philpott and the show?”

“He has to confront the FBS board himself tomorrow morning.”

 

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 3

Rickard was last to enter the White House conference room just after 9:00
A.M
. He still looked very ill as he waved the others to be seated. Present were Attorney General Roger Cardinal, Secretary of State Grove, Vice President Cosgrove, FBI Director James Dent, his secretary, Rachel Dyer, and a doctor. Rickard greeted them all cheerfully and seemed to be hiding a nervousness as he looked at a portable tape recorder in the middle of the long table opposite James Dent.