The Aquaintaine Progession Page 6

  “Why?”

  “Because he would have had no idea that I wasan old man. I might have been a commando.”

  “You know, it’s possible just possible that Icould have had a gun. Would you have blown mygoddamned head off?”

  "A respected attorney coming to the island forthe first time, passing through Geneva’s airportsecurity? Where would you get it? Whom would youknow on Mykonos?”

  "Arrangements could have been made,” protestedConverse with little conviction.

  “I’ve had you followed since you arrived. Youwent directly to the bank, then to the Kouneni hotel,where you sat in the garden and had a drink beforegoing to your room. Outside of the taxi driver, myfriend Kostas, the desk clerk, and the waiters in thegarden, you spoke to no one. As long as you wereJoel Converse I was safe.”

  “For a product of an ivory tower, you sound morelike a hit man from Detroit.”

  “I wasn’t always in the academic world, but yes,I’ve been cautious. I think we must all be verycautious. With a George Marcus Delavane it’s theonly sound strategy.”

  “Sound strategy?”

  “Approach, if you like.” Beale reached betweenthe widely separated buttons of his jacket andwithdrew a folded sheet of paper. “Here are thenames,” he said, handing it to Joel. “There are fivekey figures in Delavane’s operation over here. Oneeach from France, West Germany, Israel, South Af-rica, and England. We’ve identified four the firstfour but we can’t find the Englishman.”

  “How did you get these?”

  “Originally from notes found among Delavane’spapers by Halliday when the general was his client.”

  “That was the accident he mentioned, then? Hesaid it was an accident that wouldn’t happen again.”

  “I don’t know what he told you, of course, but itcertainly was an accident. A faulty memory onDelavane’s part, an af

  flictionI can personally assure you touches the aging.The general simply forgot he had a meeting withHalliday, and when Preston arrived, his secretary lethim into the office so he could prepare papers forDelavane, who was expected in a half hour or so.Preston saw a file folder on the general’s desk; heknew that folder, knew it contained material hecould cross-check. Without thinking twice, he satdown and began working. He found the names, andknowing Delavane’s recent itinerary in Europe andAfrica, everything suddenly began to fall intoplace very ominously. For anyone politically aware,those four names are frightening they dredge upfrightening memories.”

  “Did Delavane ever learn that he’d found them?”

  “In my judgment, he could never be certain.Halliday wrote them down and left before thegeneral returned. But then Geneva tells ussomething else, doesn’t it?”

  “That Delavane did find out,” said Converse grimly.

  “Or he wasn’t going to take any further chances,especially if there was a schedule, and we’reconvinced there is one. We’re in the countdownnow.”

  “To what?”

  “From the pattern of their operations what we’vepieced together a prolonged series of massive,orchestrated conflagrations designed to spingovernments out of control and destabilize them.”

  “That’s a tall order. In what way?”

  “Guesswork,” said the scholar, frowning.“Probably widespread, coordinated eruptions ofviolence led by terrorists everywhere terroristsfueled by Delavane and his people. When the chaosbecomes intolerable, it would be their excuse tomarch in with military units and assume thecontrols, initially with martial law.”

  “It’s been done before,” said Joel. “Feed and arma presumed enemy, then send out provocateurs “

  “With massive sums of money and material.”

  “And when they rise up,” continued Converse,“pull out the rug, crush them, and take over. Thecitizens give thanks and call the heroes saviors, asthey start marching to their drums. But how couldthey do it?”

  “That’s the all-consuming question. What are thetargets? Where are they, who are they? We have noidea. If we had an inkling, we might approach fromthat end, but we don’t,

  and we can’t waste time hunting for unknowns. Wemust go after what we do know.”

  “Again, time,” Joel broke in. “Why are you sosure we’re in a countdown?”

  “Increased activity everywhere in many casesfrantic. Shipments originating in the States arefunneled out of warehouses in England, Ireland,France, and Germany to groups of insurgents in allthe troubled areas. There are rurnors out of Munich,the Mediterranean and the Arab states. The talk isin terms of final preparations, but no one seems toknow what exactly for except that all of them mustbe ready. It’s as though such groups asBaader-Meinhof, the Brigate Rosse, the PLO, andthe red legions of Paris and Madrid were all in arace with none knowing the course, only the momentwhen it begins.”

  "When is that?”

  “Our reports vary, but they’re all within the sametime span. Within three to five weeks.”

  “Oh, my God.” Joel suddenly remembered.“Avery Halliday whispered something to me justbefore he died. Words that were spoken by the menwho shot him. Aquitaine . . . "They said it was forAquitaine.’ Those were the words he whispered.What do they mean, Beale?”

  The old scholar was silent, his eyes alive in themoonlight. He slowly turned his head and stared outat the water. “It’s madness,” he whispered.

  “That doesn’t tell me anything.”

  “No, of course not,” said Beale apologetically,turning back to Converse. “It’s simply the magnitudeof it all. It’s so incredible.”

  “I’m not reading you.”

  “Aquitaine Aquitania, as Julius Caesar calledit was the name given to a region in southwesternFrance that at one time in the first centuries afterChrist was said to have extended from the Atlantic,across the Pyrenees to the Mediterranean, and as farnorth as the mouth of the Loire west of Paris on thecoast “

  “I’m vaguely aware of that,” Joel broke in, tooimpatient for an academic dissertation.

  “If you are, you’re to be commended. Mostpeople are only aware of the later centuries say,from the eighth on when Charlemagne conqueredthe region, formed the kingdom of Aquitaine andbestowed it on his son Louis, and his

  sons Pepin One and Two. Actually, these and thefollowing three hundred years are the mostpertinent. "

  "To what?”

  “The legend of Aquitaine, Mr. Converse. Likemany ambitious generals, Delavane sees himself asa student of history in the tradition of Caesar,Napoleon, Clausewitz . . . even Patton. I was rightlyor wrongly considered a scholar, but he remains astudent, and that’s as it should be. Scholars can’ttake liberties without substantive evidence or theyshouldn’t but students can and usually do.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “The legend of Aquitaine becomes convoluted,the what-if syndrome riding over the facts untiltheoretical assumptions are made that distort theevidence. You see, the story of Aquitaine is filledwith sudden, massive expansions and abruptcontractions. To simplify, an imaginative student ofhistory might say that had there not been political,marital and military miscalculations on the part ofCharlemagne and his son, the two Pepins, and laterLouis the Seventh of France and Henry the Secondof England, both of whom were married to theextraordinary Eleanor, the kingdom of Aquitainemight have encompassed most if not all of Europe.”Beale paused. “Do you begin to understand?” heasked.

  “Yes,” said Joel. “Christ, yes. “

  “That’s not all,” continued the scholar. “SinceAquitaine was once considered a legitimatepossession of England, it might in time haveenveloped all of her foreign colonies, including theoriginal thirteen across the Atlantic later theUnited States of America…. Of course,miscalculations or not, it could never have happenedbecause of a fundamental law of Westerncivilisation, valid since the-deposition of RomulusAugustulus and the collapse of the Roman empire.You cannot crush, then unite by force and ruledisparate peoples and their cultures not for anylength of time.”

  “Someone’s trying to now,” said Convers
e.“George Marcus Delavane.”

  “Yes. In his mind he’s constructed the Aquitainethat never was, never could be. And it’s profoundlyterrifying.”

  “Why? You just said it couldn’t happen.”

  “Not according to the old rules, not in anyperiod since the fall of Rome. But you mustremember, there’s never been a time in recordedhistory like this one. Never such weapons, suchanxiety. Delavane and his people know that, andthey

  will play upon those weapons, those anxieties. Theyare playing upon them. “The old man pointed to thesheet of paper in Joel’s hand. ”You have matches.Strike one and look at the names.”

  Converse unfolded the sheet, reached into hispocket and took out his lighter. He snapped it, andas the flame illuminated the paper he studied thenames. “Jesus!” he said, frowning. "They fit in withDelavane. It’s a gathering of warlords, if they’re themen I think they are.” Joel extinguished the flame.

  “They are,” replied Beale, “starting with GeneralJacques-Louis Bertholdier in Paris, a remarkableman, quite extraordinary. A Resistance fighter in thewar, given the rank of major before he was twenty,but later an unreconstructed member of Salan’sOAS. He was behind an assassination attempt on DeCaulle in August of "62, seeing himself as the trueleader of the republic. He nearly made it. Hebelieved then as he believes now that the Algeriangenerals were the salvation of an enfeebled France.He has survived not only because he’s a legend, butbecause his voice isn’t alone only he’s morepersuasive than most. Especially with the elite crowdof promising commanders produced by Saint-Cyr.Quite simply, he’s a fascist, a fanatic hiding behinda screen of eminent respectability.”

  “And the one named Abrahms,” said Converse.“He’s the Israeli strong man who struts around in asafari jacket and boots, isn’t he? The screecher whoholds rallies in front of the Knesset and in thestadiums, telling everyone there’ll be a bloodbath inJudea and Samaria if the children of Abraham aredenied. Even the Israelis can’t shut him up.”

  “Many are afraid to; he’s become electrifying, likelightning, a symbol. Chaim Abrahms and hisfollowers make the Begin regime seem like reticent,self-effacing pacifists. He’s a sabre tolerated by theEuropeanJews because he’s a brilliant soldier, provenin two wars, and has enjoyed the respect if not theaffection of every Minister of Defense since theearly years of Golda Meir. They never know whenthey might need him in the field.”

  “And this one,” said Joel, again using his lighter.“Van Headmer. South African, isn’t he? The"hangman in uniform’ or something like that.”

  “Jan van Headmer, the ’slayer of Soweto,’ as theblacks call him. He executes "offenders’ withalarming frequency and

  government tolerance. His family is old-lineAmkaner, all generals going back to the Boer War,and he sees no reason on earth to bring Pretoriainto the twentieth century. Incidentally, he’s a closefriend of Abrahms and makes frequent trips to TelAviv. He’s also one of the most erudite and charm-ing general officers ever to attend a diplomaticconference. His presence denies his image andreputation.”

  " And Leifhelm,” said Converse, coming to thelast of the foreign names. “A mixed bag, if I’maccurate. Supposedly a great soldier who followedtoo many orders, but still respected. I’m weakest onhim.”

  “Entirely understandable,” said Beale, nodding.“In some ways his is the oddest story the mostmonstrous, really, because the truth has beenconsistently covered up so as to use him and avoidembarrassment. Field Marshal Erich Leifhelm wasthe youngest general ever commissioned by AdolfHitler. He foresaw Germany’s collapse and made asudden about-face. From brutal killer and a fanaticsuper-Aryan to a contrite professional who abhorredthe Nazis’ crimes as they were ”revealed’ to him. Hefooled everyone and was absolved of all guilt; henever saw a Nuremberg courtroom. During the coldwar the Allies used his services extensively, grantinghim full security clearances, and later in the fiftieswhen the new German divisions were mounted forthe NATO forces, they made sure he was put incommand.”

  “Weren’t there a couple of newspaper storiesabout him a few years ago? He had several run-inswith Helmut Schmidt, didn’t he?”

  “Exactly,” agreed the scholar. “But those storieswere soft and carried only half the story. Leifhelmwas quoted as saying merely that the Germanpeople could not be expected to carry the burden ofpast guilt into future generations. It had to stop.Pride should once more be established in thenation’s heritage. There was some saber rattlingaimed at the Soviets, but nothing substantivelybeyond that.”

  “What was the other half?” asked Converse.

  “He wanted the Bundestag’s restrictions on thearmed forces lifted completely, and fought for theexpansion of the intelligence services, patternedafter the Abwohr, including rehabilitation sentencesfor political troublemakers. He also sought extensivedeletions in German textbooks throughout theschool systems. "Pride has to be restored,’ he keptsaying,

  and everything he said was in the name of virulentanti-Communism.”

  " The Third Reich’s first strategy in everythingwhen Hitler took over.”

  "You’re quite right. Schmidt saw through him andknew there’d be chaos if he had his way and he wasinfluential. Bonn could not afford the specterofpainful memories. Schmidt forced Leifhelrn to resignand literally removed his voice from all governmentaffairs.”

  “But he keeps speaking.”

  “Not openly. However, he’s rich and retains hisfriends and contacts.”

  “Among them Delavane and his people.”

  “Foremost among them now.’

  Joel once more snapped his lighter and scannedthe lower part of the page. There were two lists ofnames, the row on the left under the heading StateDepartment, the right under Pentagon. There wereperhaps twenty-five people in all. “Who are theAmericans?” He released the lever; the flame diedand he put the lighter back in his pocket. “Thenames don’t mean anything to me.”

  “Some should, but it doesn’t matter,” said Bealeelliptically. “The point is that among those men aredisciples of George Delavane. They carry out hisorders. How many of them is difficult to say, but atleast several from each grouping. You see, these arethe men who make the decisions or conversely, donot oppose decisions without which Delavane andhis followers would be stopped in their tracks.”

  “Spell that out.”

  “Those on the left are key figures in the StateDepartment’s Office of Munitions Control. Theydetermine what gets cleared for export, who underthe blanket of "rational interest’ can receive weaponsand technology withheld from others. On the rightare the senior officers at the Pentagon on whoseword millions upon millions are spent for armamentprocurements. All are decision makers and anumber of those decisions have been questioned, afew openly, others quietly by diplomatic and militarycolleagues. We’ve learned that much “

  “Questioned? Why?” interrupted Converse.

  “There were rumors there always arerumors of large shipments improperly licensed forexport. Then there’s surplus militaryequipment excess supplies lost in transfers

  from temporary warehouses and out-of-the-waystorage depots. Surplus equipment is easilyunaccounted for, it’s an embarrassment in thesedays of enormous budgets and cost overruns. Getrid of it and don’t be too particular. How fortunatein these instances and coincidental if a memberof this Aquitaine shows up, willing to buy and withall his papers in order. Whole depots andwarehouses are sent where they shouldn’t be sent.”

  “A Libya connection?”

  “There’s no doubt of it. A great many connections.”

  “Halliday mentioned it and you said it a fewmoments ago. Laws broken arms, equipment,technological information sent to people whoshouldn’t have them. They break loose on cue andthere’s disruption, terrorism “

  “Justifying military responses,” old Beale brokein. “That’s part of Delavane’s concept. Justifiableescalation of armed might, the commanders incharge, the civilians helpless, forced to listen tothem, obey them.”

  “But you just said questions wer
e raised.”

  “And answered with such worn-out phrases as“national security’ and ”adversarial disinformation’ tostop or throw off the curious.”

  “That’s obstruction. Can’t they be caught at it?.’

  “By whom? With what?”

  “Damn it, the questions themselves!” repliedConverse. “Those improper export licenses, themilitary transfers that got lost, merchandise thatcan’t be traced.”

  “By people without the clearances to go aroundsecurity classifications, or lacking the expertise tounderstand the complexities of export licensing.”

  “That’s nonsense,” insisted Joel. “You said someof those questions were asked by diplomaticpersonnel, military colleagues, men who certainlyhad the clearances and the expertise.”

  “And who suddenly, magically, didn’t ask themany longer. Of course, many may have beenpersuaded that the questions were, indeed, beyondtheir legitimate purviews; others may have been toofrightened to penetrate for fear of involvement;others still, forced to back off frankly threatened.Regardless, behind it all there are those who do theconvincing, and they’re growing in numberseverywhere.”

  “Christ, it’s a a network,” said Converse softly.

  The scholar looked hard at Joel, the night light onthe

  water reflecting across the old man’s pale, lined face.“Yes, Mr. Converse, a “network.’ That word waswhispered to me by a man who thought I was one ofthem. ”The network,’ he said. "The network will takecare of you.’ He meant Delavane and his people.”

  “Why did they think you were a part of them?”

  The old man paused. He looked briefly away atthe shimmering Aegean, then back at Converse.“Because that man thought it was logical. Thirtyyears ago I took off a uniform, trading it for theHarris tweeds and unkempt hair of a universityprofessor. Few of my colleagues could understand,for, you see, I was one of the elite, perhaps a later,American version of Erich Leifhelm a brigadiergeneral at thirty-eight, and the Joint Chiefs wereconceivably my next assignment. But where thecollapse of Berlin and the G6tterdammerung in thebunker had one effect on Leifhelm, the evacuationof Korea and the disembowelment of Panmunjomhad another effect on me. I saw only the waste, notthe cause I once saw only the futility where oncethere’d been sound reasons. I saw death, Mr.Converse, not heroic death against animalistic hordesor on a Spanish afternoon with the crowds shouting“Ore, ” but just plain death. Ugly death, shatteringdeath. And I knew I could no longer be a part ofthose strategies that called for it…. Had I beenqualified in belief, I might have become a priest.”