The Aquitaine Progression (102 page)

He was hack a lifetime ago, on the bridge of a carrier, the face in front of him contorted, obscene, the voice shrill. Shit-kicker! Shit-kicker, shit-kicker, shit-kicker! Then other explosions followed, and he was blown into the dark clouds, the wind and the rain buffeting him, hammering him as he swung down toward the earth. Down to the ground and four years of madness and death and dying children weeping. Madness! Shit-kicker … shit-kicker … shit-kicker!

Converse reached down for the pistol on the table. He picked it up and, with his index finger around the trigger, leveled it at Erich Leifhelm.

And then a sudden shock went through him. What was he doing? He needed all three men of Aquitaine. Not one, not two, but three! It was the basis, the spine of what he had to do! But still there was something else. He had to kill, he had to destroy the deadly human virus staring at him, wanting death. Oh, Jesus! Had Aquitaine won, after all? Had he become one of them? If he had, he had lost.

“Your kind of courage is cheap, Leifhelm,” he said softly, lowering the gun. “Better a quick bullet than other alternatives.”

“I live by my code. I die by it gladly.”

“Cleanly, you mean. Swiftly. No Dachau, no Auschwitz.”

“You have the gun.”

“I thought you had so much to offer.”

“My successor has been chosen carefully. He will carry out details, every nuance of my agenda.”

The opening was there, a strategy suddenly revealed. Joel pushed the button
.

“Your successor?”

“Ja.”

“You have no successor, Field Marshal.”

“What?”

“Any more than you have an agenda. You don’t have anything without me. It’s why I brought you here. Just you.”

“What are you saying?”

“Sit down, General. I’ve several things to tell you, and for your own sake you’d better be seated. Your own execution might be more preferable to you than what I’ve got to say.”

“
Liar!
” screamed Erich Leifhelm four minutes later, his hands gripping the arms of the brocaded chair. “Liar, liar,
liar
!” he roared.

“I didn’t expect you to believe me,” said Joel calmly, standing in the middle of the spacious, book-lined study. “Call Bertholdier in Paris and tell him you just heard some disturbing news and you’d like a clarification. Say it outright; you’ve learned that while you were in Essen, Bertholdier and Abrahms came to see me at your place in Bonn.”

“How would I
know
that?”

“The truth. They paid a guard to open the door—I don’t know which one, I didn’t see him—but a guard did unlock the door and let them in.”

“Because they believed you were an
informer
, sent out by Delavane, himself?”

“That’s what they told me.”

“You were drugged! There were no such indications!”

“They were suspicious. They didn’t know the doctor and they didn’t trust the Englishman. I don’t have to tell you they don’t trust you. They thought the whole thing might be a hoax. They wanted to cover themselves.”

“
Incredible!
”

“Not when you think about it,” said Converse, sitting down opposite the German. “How did I really get the information I had? How did I know the exact people to reach—except through Delavane? That was their thinking.”

“That Delavane would do this—
could
do it?” began the astonished Leifhelm.

“I know what that means now,” interrupted Joel quickly, seizing on the new opening presented him. “Delavane’s finished, they both admitted it when they understood he was the
last person on earth I’d work for. Maybe they were throwing me a few crumbs before setting me up for my own execution.”

“That had to be done!” exclaimed the Third Reich’s once youngest field marshal. “Certainly you can understand. Who
were
you? Where did you come from? You yourself did not know. You spoke of inconsequential names and lists and a great deal of money but nothing that made sense. Who had penetrated us? Since we could not find out, you had to be turned into a pariah. Into something rotten. A thing of rot no one would touch.”

“You did it very well.”

“For that I must take credit,” said Leifhelm, nodding. “It was essentially my organization. Everything was mine.”

“I didn’t bring you here to discuss your achievements. I brought you here to save my life. You can do that for me—the people who sent me out either can’t or won’t—but you can. All I have to do is give you a reason.”

“By implying that Abrahms and Bertholdier conspire against me?”

“I won’t imply anything, I’ll give it to you straight in their own words. Remember, neither one of them thought I’d leave your place except as a corpse conveniently shot in the vicinity of some particularly gruesome assassination.” Suddenly Converse got out of the chair, shaking his head. “
No!
” he said emphatically. “Call your trusted French and Israeli allies, your fellow Aquitainians. Say anything you like, just listen to their voice—you’ll be able to tell. It takes an accomplished liar to spot other liars, and you’re the best.”

“I find that offensive.”

“Oddly enough, I meant it as a compliment. It’s why I reached you. I think you’re going to be the winner over here, and after what I’ve been through I want to go with a winner.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Oh, come on, let’s be honest. Abrahms is hated; he’s insulted everyone in Europe, the U.K. and the U.S. who doesn’t agree with his expansionist policies for Israel. Even his own countrymen can’t shut him up. All they can do is censure him, and he keeps on screaming. He’d never be tolerated in any kind of international federation.”

The Nazi quickly, repeatedly shook his head. “
Never!
” he shouted. “He is the most loathsome man to come out of the Middle East. And, of course, he’s a Jew. But how is Bertholdier to be equated in this manner?”

Joel paused before answering. “
His
manner,” he replied thoughtfully. “He’s imperious, arrogant. He sees himself not only as a great military figure and a history-making power broker, but also as some sort of god, above other men. There’s no room on his Olympus for mortals. Also he’s French. The English and the Americans wouldn’t give him spit: one De Gaulle in a century is enough for them.”

“There’s clarity in your thoughts. He’s the sort of abominable egotist only the French can suffer. He is, of course, a reflection of the entire country.”

“Van Headmer doesn’t count except where he can bring South Africa around for raw materials.”

“Agreed,” said the German.

“But you, on the other hand,” Converse went on rapidly, again sitting down, “worked with the Americans and the English in Berlin and Vienna. You helped implement occupation policies, and in good conscience you turned over evidence to both the U.S. and the U.K. prosecution teams in Nuremberg. Finally, you became Bonn’s spokesman in NATO. Whatever you were in the past, they like you.” Again Joel paused, and when he continued there was a degree of deference in his voice. “Therefore, General, you’re the winner, and you can save my life. All you need is a reason.”

“Then give it to me.”

“Use the phone first.”

“Don’t be an idiot and don’t take
me
for one! You would not insist so unless you were sure of yourself, which means you are telling the truth. And if those
Schweine
conspire against me, I will not inform them that I’m
aware
of it! What did they say?”

“You’re to be killed. They can’t risk the accusation that an old-line member of the Nazi party has assumed vital controls in West Germany. Even under Aquitaine there’d be too many cries of ‘Foul!’—too much fuel for the inevitable dissenters. A younger man or someone who thinks like they do, but with no party affiliations in his past, will take your place. But no one you recommend.”

Leifhelm was braced rigidly in the brocaded chair, his aged but still taut body immobile, his pallid face with the piercing light-blue eyes like an alabaster mask.
“They
have made this most
holy
decision?” he said icily through lips that barely moved. “The vulgar Jew and the depraved French prince of maggots
dare
to attempt such a move against me?”

“Not that it matters, but Delavane agrees.”

“Delavane! A raging, infantile clump of fantasies! The man we knew two years ago has disintegrated to a point beyond senility! He doesn’t know it, but we give
him
orders, couched naturally as suggestions and beneficial possibilities. He has no more powers of reason than Adolf Hitler had in his last years of madness.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Converse. “Abrahms and Bertholdier didn’t go into it other than to say he was finished. They talked about you.”

“Really? Well, let
me
talk about
me
! Who do you think it was that made Aquitaine feasible throughout all Europe and the Mediterranean? Who fed the terrorists with weapons and millions of pounds of explosives—from the Baader-Meinhof to the Brigate Rosse to the Palestinians—priming them for their final, let’s say their
finest
, hours?
Who?
It was
I!
Why are our conferences always in Bonn? Why are all directives funneled, ultimately issued, through me? Let me explain.
I
have the organization!
I
have the manpower—dedicated men ready to do my bidding with a single order.
I
have the money! I created an advanced, highly sophisticated communications center out of rubble; no one else in Europe could have done that—this I’ve known all along. Bertholdier has nothing to speak of in Paris other than influence and the aura that hovers about him—in true battle, meaningless. The Jew and the South African are a continent away. When the chaos comes, it is
I
who will be the voice of Aquitaine in Europe. I never thought otherwise! My men will cut down Bertholdier and Abrahms at their toilets!”

“Scharhörn’s the communications center, isn’t it?” asked Joel with no emphasis whatsoever.

“They told you that?”

“The name was dropped. The master list of Aquitaine’s in a computer there, isn’t it?”

“That,
also
?”

“It’s not important. I don’t care anymore. I was abandoned, remember? You must have figured out the computer, too—no one else could.”

“A considerable accomplishment,” admitted Leifhelm, his humility shining brightly on his waxen face. “I even prepared for the catastrophe of death. There are sixteen letters; we each carry different sets of four, the remaining twelve are with the legless maniac. He thinks no one can activate the
codes without his primary set, but in truth a
pre-
coded combination of two sequences doubled will do it.”

“That’s ingenious,” said Converse. “Do the others know?”

“Only my trusted French comrade,” answered the German coldly. “The prince of traitors, Bertholdier. But, naturally, I never gave him the accurate combination, and an inaccurate insertion would erase everything.”

“That was a winner thinking.” Joel nodded approvingly, then frowned with concern. “What would happen, though, if your center was assaulted?”

“Like Hitler’s plans for the bunker, it would go up in flames. There are explosives everywhere.”

“I see.”

“But since you speak of winners, and in my judgment such men are prophets,” continued Leifhelm, leaning forward in the chair, his eyes widening with enthusiasm, “let me tell you about the isle of Scharhörn. Years ago, in 1945, out of the ashes of defeat, it was to be the site of the most incredible creation designed by true believers the world has ever known, only to be aborted by cowards and traitors. It was called Operation Sonnenkinder—the children of the sun—infants biologically selected and sent out all over the world to people waiting for them, prepared to guide them through their lives to positions of power and wealth. As adults, the
Sonnenkinder
were to have but one mission across the globe. The rising of the Fourth Reich! You see now the symbolic choice of Scharhörn? From this inner complex of Aquitaine will come forth the
new order
! We will have
done
it!”

“Stow it,” said Converse, getting out of the chair and walking away from Erich Leifhelm. “The examination’s finished.”

“
What?
”

“You heard me, get out of here. You make me sick.” The door opened, and the young doctor from Bonn came in, his eyes on the once celebrated field marshal. “Strip him,” ordered Converse. “Search him.”

Joel entered the dimly lit room where Valerie and the Sûreté’s Prudhomme flanked a man behind a video camera mounted on a tripod. The thick lens of the camera was inserted in the wall and ten feet away was a television monitor,
which showed only the deserted study, with the brocaded wing chair in the center of the screen.

“Everything go all right?” he asked.

“Beautifully,” said Valerie. “The operator didn’t understand a word, but he claimed the lighting was exquisite.
Au bel naturel
, he called it. He can make as many copies as you like; they’ll take about thirty-five minutes each.”

“Ten and the original print will be enough,” said Converse, looking at his watch, then at Prudhomme as Val spoke quietly in French to the cameraman. “You can take the first copy and still make the five o’clock flight to Washington.”

“With the greatest of enthusiasm, my friend. I assume one of these prints will be for Paris.”

“And every other head of government along with our affidavits. You’ll bring back copies of the depositions Simon took in New York?”

“I’ll go make arrangements,” said Prudhomme. “It is best my name does not appear on the passenger manifest.” He turned and left the room, followed by the cameraman, who headed for his duplicating equipment down the hall.

Valerie went to Joel, and taking his face in both her hands, she kissed him lightly on the lips. “For a few minutes in their you had me in knots. I didn’t think you were going to make it.”

“Neither did I.”

“But you did. That was some display, mister. I’m so very proud of you, my darling.”

“A lot of lawyers’ll cringe. It was the worst sort of entrapment. As an old, bewildering, but very bright law professor of mine would have put it, they were admissions elicited on the basis of false statements, those same admissions forming the basis of further entrapment.”