«Do the bankers have to be told?» asked Helden.
Noel touched her cheek, forcing her to look at him. «I’d have to tell them. We’re talking about seven hundred and eighty million dollars; about three men who did something remarkable. It was their gesture to history; I really believe that. If your brother puts it in jeopardy, or causes it to be misused, then maybe it’s better that those millions get locked up for the next generation. But it doesn’t have to be that way. According to the rules, you’re the one who’d be the Von Tiebolt executrix.»
Helden gazed at him. «I can’t accept that, Noel. It must be Johann. Not only is he more qualified to be a part of Geneva; he deserves it. I can’t take that from him.»
«And I can’t give it to him. Not if he can hurt the covenant. Let’s talk about it after I see him.»
She studied his face; he felt awkward. She took his hand from her cheek and held it. «You’re a moral man, aren’t you?»
«Not necessarily. Just angry. I’m sick of corruption in the rarefied circles of finance. There’s been an awful lot of it in my country.»
«‘Rarefied circles of finance’?»
«It’s a phrase my father used in his letter to me.»
«That’s odd,» said Helden.
«What is?»
«You’ve always called him Clausen, or Heinrich Clausen. Formal, rather distant.»
Holcroft nodded, acknowledging the truth of her remark. «It’s funny, because I really don’t know any more about him now than I did before. But he’s been described to me. The way he looked, the way he talked, how people listened to him and were affected by him.»
«Then you do know more about him.»
«Not actually. Only impressions. A child’s impressions, at that. But in a small way I think I’ve found him.»
«When did your parents tell you about him?»
«Not my parents, not my … stepfather. Just Althene. It was a couple of weeks after my twenty-fifth birthday. I was working then, a certified professional.»
«Professional?»
«I’m an architect, remember? I’ve almost forgotten.»
«Your mother waited until you were twenty-five before she told you?»
«She was right. I don’t think I could have handled it when I was younger. Good Lord. Noel Holcroft, American boy. Hot dogs and french fries, Shea Stadium and the Mets, the Garden and the Knicks; and college and friends whose fathers were soldiers in the big war, each one winning it in his own way. That fellow’s told his real father was one of those heel-clicking sadists in the war movies, Christ, that kid would flip out.»
«Why did she tell you at all, then?»
«On the remote chance that I’d find out for myself one day, and she didn’t want that. She didn’t think it would happen. She and Dick had covered the traces right down to a birth certificate which said I was their son. But there was another birth certificate. In Berlin. ‘Clausen, male child. Mother—Althene. Father—Heinrich.’ And there were people who knew she’d left him, left Germany. She wanted me to be prepared if it ever surfaced, if anyone for any reason ever remembered and tried to use the information. Prepared, incidentally, to deny it. To say there’d been another child—never mentioned in the house—who had died in infancy in England.»
«Which means there was another certificate. A death certificate.»
«Yes. Properly recorded somewhere in London.»
Helden leaned back against the booth. «You and we are not so different after all. Our lives are full of false papers. What a luxury it must be not to live that way.»
«Papers don’t mean much to me. I’ve never hired anyone because of them, and I’ve never fired anyone because someone else brought them to me.» Noel finished his drink. «I ask the questions myself. And I’m going to ask your brother some very tough ones. I hope to God he has the answers I want to hear.»
«So do I.»
He leaned toward her, their shoulders touching. «Love me a little?»
«More than a little.»
«Stay with me tonight.»
«I intend to. Your hotel?»
«Not the one in rue Chevalle. That Mr. Fresca we invented the other night has moved to better lodgings. You see, I’ve got a few friends in Paris, too. One’s an assistant manager at the George Cinq.»
«How extravagant.»
«It’s allowed. You’re a very special woman, and we don’t know what’s going to happen, starting tomorrow. By the way, why couldn’t we go to Argenteuil? You said you’d tell me.»
«We were seen there.»
«What? By whom?»
«A man saw us—saw you, really. We don’t know his name, but we know he was from Interpol. We have a source there. A bulletin was circulated from the Paris headquarters with your description. A trace was put out for you from New York. From a police officer named Miles.»
28
John Tennyson walked out into Heathrow Airport’s crowded arrivals area. He walked to a black Jaguar sedan waiting at the curb. The driver was smoking a cigarette and reading a book. At the sight of the approaching blond man, the driver got out of the car.
«Good afternoon, Mr. Tennyson,» said the man, in a throaty Welsh accent.
«Have you been waiting long?» asked Tennyson, without much interest.
«Not very,» answered the driver, taking Tennyson’s briefcase and overnight bag. «I presume you wish to drive.»
«Yes, I’ll drop you off along the way. Someplace where you can find a taxi.»
«I can get one here.»
«No, I want to talk for a few minutes.» Tennyson climbed in behind the wheel; the Welshman opened the rear door and put the luggage inside. Within minutes they had passed the airport gates and were on the highway to London.
«Did you have a good trip?» asked the Welshman.
«A busy one.»
«I read your article about Bahrain. Most amusing.»
«Bahrain’s amusing. The Indian shopkeepers are the only economists on the archipelago.»
«But you were kind to the sheikhs.»
«They were kind to me. What’s the news from the Mediterranean? Have you stayed in touch with your brother on board Beaumont’s ship?»
«Constantly. We use a radiophone off Cap Camarat. Everything’s going according to schedule. The rumor circulated on the pier that the commander was seen going out in a small boat with a woman from Saint-Tropez. Neither the boat nor the couple have been heard from in over forty-eight hours, and there were offshore squalls. My brother will report the incident tomorrow. He will assume command, of course.»
«Of course. Then it all goes well. Beaumont’s death will be clear-cut. An accident in bad weather. No one will question the story.»
«You don’t care to tell me what actually happened?»
«Not specifically; it would be a burden to you. But basically, Beaumont overreached himself. He was seen in the wrong places by the wrong people. It was speculated that our upstanding officer was actually connected to the ODESSA.»
The Welshman’s expression conveyed his anger. «That’s dangerous. The damn fool.»
«There’s something I must tell you,» said Tennyson. «It’s almost time.»
The Welshman replied in awe. «It’s happened, then?»
«Within two weeks, I’d guess.»
«I can’t believe it!»
«Why?» asked Tennyson. «Everything’s on schedule. The cables must begin to go out. Everywhere.»