The Parsifal Mosaic Read Free Page B

have one that night in Washington. He would tell Harry that he had repeated the ritual in Amsterdam, although he probably wouldn’t have if he had realized how bright the damn flames were and the degree of attention they would draw to his table.
    “Thank you, Harry,” he said silently once the waiter had left, raising his glass inches off the table to his invisible companion. It was better, after all, not to be completely alone.
    He could both feel the approaching presence of a man and see an enlarging darkness in the corner of his eye. A figure dressed in a conservative pinstriped suit was threading his way through the shadows and the candlelight toward the booth. Havelock angled the glass and raised his eyes to the face. The man’s name was George; he was the CIA station chief in Amsterdam. They had worked together before, not always pleasantly but professionally.
    “That’s one way to announce your arrival here,” said the intelligence officer, glancing at the waiter’s tray table, the silver sugar bowl still on it “May I sit down?”
    “My pleasure. How are you, George?”
    “I’ve been better,” said the CIA man, sliding across the seat opposite Michael.
    “Sorry to hear that. Care for a drink?”
    “That depends.”
    “On what?”
    “Whether I’ll stay long enough.”
    “Aren’t we cryptic,” said Havelock. “But then you’re probably still working.”
    “I wasn’t aware the hours were that clear-cut.”
    “No, I guess they’re not. Am I the reason, George?”
    “At the moment, maybe,” said the CIA man. “I’m surprised to see you here. I heard you retired.”
    “You heard correctly.”
    “Then why are you here?”
    “Why not? I’m traveling. I like Amsterdam. You could say I’m spending a lot of accumulated severance pay visiting all those places I rarely got to see in the daytime.”
    “I could
say
it, but that doesn’t mean I believe it.”
    “Believe, George. It’s the truth.”
    “No screen?” asked the intelligence officer, his eyes leveled at Michael. “I can find out, you know.”
    “None at all. I’m out, finished, temporarily unemployed. If you check, that’s what you’ll learn, but I don’t think you have to waste channel time to Langley. I’m sure the centrex codes have been altered where I was concerned, all sources and informers in Amsterdam alerted as to my status. I’m off-limits, George. Anyone dealing with me is asking for a short term on the payroll and quite possibly an obscure funeral.”
    “Those are the
surface
facts,” agreed the CIA man.
    “They’re the only facts. Don’t bother looking for anything else; you won’t find it.”
    “All right, say I believe you. You’re traveling, spending your severance pay.” The agent paused as he leaned forward. “It’s going to run out.”
    “What is?”
    “The severance pay.”
    “Inevitably. At which time I expect I’ll find gainful employment. As a matter of fact, this afternoon—”
    “Why wait? I might be able to help you there.”
    “No, you can’t, George. I haven’t anything to sell.”
    “Sure, you do. Expertise. A consultant’s fee paid out of contingency. No name, no records, untraceable.”
    “If you’re running a test, you’re doing it badly.”
    “No test. I’m willing to pay in order to look better than I am. I wouldn’t admit that if I were testing you.”
    “You might, but you’d be a damn fool. It’s third-rate entrapment; it’s so awkward you’ve probably done it for real. None of us want those contingency funds scrutinized too carefully, do we?”
    “I may not be in your league, but I’m not third-rate. I need help. We need help.”
    “That’s better. You’re appealing to my ego. Much better.”
    “How about it, Michael The KGB’s all over The Hague. We don’t know who they’ve bought or how far up they go. NATO’s compromised.”
    “We’re all compromised, George, and I
can’t
help. Because I don’t think it makes any difference. We get to