The Parsifal Mosaic (82 page)

“By whom, Commander?”

Decker straightened his broad-shouldered body, a condemned man knowing that ultimate justice would bring a pardon. “The people, Mr. Cross. The people of this nation recognize a giant. They won’t turn their backs on him because a hack politician and his weak-kneed advisers say so. They won’t stand for it! The world has lamented the loss of great leadership these past few decades. Well, we produced a great leader and the world knows it. And my advice to you is to get Anthony Matthias on the telephone. You don’t have to say anything, I,ll speak to him.”

Havelock stood motionless, something more than uncertainty now in his voice. “You believe there could be a showdown? The President—impeached?”

“Look at Matthias. Can you doubt it? Where in the last thirty years has there been a man like him?”

Michael slowly walked back to the desk and lowered himself into the chair, glancing up at Decker. “Sit down, Commander,” he said.

Decker quickly sat in the chair that Havelock had purposely placed in front of the desk. “We’ve used some harsh words with each other, and for my part I apologize. But you
must
understand. We
are
right.”

“I need more than that,” said Havelock. “We know you removed copies of detailed strategies developed by the Nuclear Contingency Committees, documents that spelled out everything in our own arsenals as well as the results of our deepest penetrations of both the Soviet and Chinese systems. You delivered these to Matthias over a period of months, but we’ve never understood why. If you could tell me, give me a reason.
Why?”

“For the most obvious reason in the world! It goes back to the key word in the title of those committees. ‘Contingency.’
Contingency
, Mr. Cross, always contingency!
Reaction—
reaction to
this
, reaction to
that
! Always replying, never
initiating
! We don’t need contingencies. We can’t let our enemies think we’ll only
respond
. We need a master plan, let them know we have a master plan that will ensure their total destruction should they transgress. Our strength, our survival, can no longer be based on defense, Mr. Cross, it must be based on
offense
! Anthony Matthias understands this. The others are afraid to face it.”

“And you helped him develop this—master plan?”

“I’m proud to say I contributed,” said the officer, his words rushed—the pardon was in sight. “I sat with him hour after hour going over every conceivable nuclear option, every possible Soviet and Chinese response, not a single capability overlooked.”

“When did you meet?”

“Every Sunday, for weeks on end.” Decker lowered his voice, confidentiality joined now with zeal and desperation. “He impressed on me the highly classified nature of our relationship, so I’d drive out in a rented car to his lodge in West Virginia, to a cabin on the secondary road where we’d meet alone.”

“The Woodshed,” said Michael, the word escaping from him.

“You know it, then?”

“I’ve been there.” Havelock briefly closed his eyes; he knew the Woodshed only too well. A small cabin retreat where Anton went to work on his projected memoirs—to talk out his thoughts, every phrase picked up by a voice—activated tape recorder. “Is there anything else? I want you to know I’m listening, Commander. You’re very impressive—and I’m listening.”

“He’s such a truly
brilliant
man,” continued Decker, his tone close to an awestruck whisper, his eyes gazing on some unseen holy light. “That probing mind, the depth of his every observation, his grasp of global realities—all
truly
remarkable. A statesman like Anthony Matthias can take this nation to its zenith, bring us to where we were meant to be in the eyes of man and God. Yes, I did what I did and I’d do it again, because I’m a patriot. I love this country as I love the Scriptures, and I would lay down my life for it, knowing that I would retain my honor.… There really is no choice, Mr. Cross. We
are
right. Pick up the phone and call Matthias, tell him I’m here. And
I’ll
tell him the truth. Small men who worship graven images have crawled out of the ground and are trying to destroy him. He’ll stamp them out-with our help.”

Michael leaned back in the chair, the weariness, the futility, as complete as they had ever been. “ ‘With our help,’ “he repeated in a voice so low he was barely aware he had spoken.

“Yes, of course!”

Havelock shook his head slowly back and forth. “You sanctimonious son of a bitch,” he said.

“What?”

“You heard me.
You sanctimonious son of a bttch!”
Michael roared. Then he breathed deeply and continued quietly, rapidly, “You want me to call Matthias? I wish to hell I could, just to watch your goddamn face, to see your steely, self-righteous eyes grow wild when you learn the truth.”

“What are you talking about?” whispered Decker.

“Matthias wouldn’t know who you
are
! Any more than he knows who the President is, or his aides, or the undersecretaries, or the diplomats he works with every day-or
me
,
who’s known him for over twenty years, closer to him than any other person alive.”

“No … no, you’re wrong.
No!”

“
Yes
, Commander! He broke. More precisely,
we broke him
. That mind is gone! It’s shattered. He’s insane. He couldn’t take it any longer. And, by Christ, you did your part. You gave him his ultimate authority, his final responsibility. You stole the world’s—yes, the
world’s
—secrets and told him his genius could handle them. You took a thousand facts and a hundred theoretical strategies, mixed them up, and turned them into the most terrifying weapon this earth has ever known. A blueprint for global annihilation.”

“That’s
not
what I did!”

“Granted, not all by yourself, but you provided the—what the hell’s that God-awful Pentagonese?—support structure, that’s it. You provided the support structure for a fiction that’s so real there’s not a nuclear expert alive who wouldn’t accept it as truth.
Gospel
truth, if you like, Commander.”

“We only discussed, analyzed, tore apart options! The final plan was to be his; you can’t
understand
. His grasp was brilliant! There was nothing he couldn’t comprehend; it was incredible!”

“It was the act of a mind dying, on the edge of becoming a convoluted vegetable. He wanted you to believe, and he was still good enough to make you believe. He had to, and you wanted to.”

“I did! So would
you
!”

“That’s what I’ve been told by a better man than you’ll ever be.”

“I don’t deserve that. He appealed to a truth I
do
believe in. We
must
be strong!”

“I don’t know any sane person who would argue with that, but there are different kinds and degrees of strength. Some work—usually quietly; others don’t, because they’re swollen with bellicosity. The savage explodes from his own tension; he can’t contain himself, he’s got to flex. And somewhere along the line he blows up, setting in motion a dozen responses that are explosions themselves.”

“Who
are
you?
What
are you?”

“A student of history who went astray. But I’m not the issue. You are. Everything you gave Matthias is within arm’s reach of the Soviets, Commander. That master plan, which
you’re so convinced we must let the world know we have, may in all its details be on its way to Moscow. Because the man you gave it to is insane, was on his way to becoming insane when you delivered the materials to him.”

Decker rose slowly from the chair. “I don’t believe you,” he said, his voice hollow, the words spoken in dread.

“Then why am I here? Why would I say it? Personal considerations aside, do you think anyone with the brains to get out of the rain wants to make that statement? Have you any idea what it means to this country to know that the mind of its Secretary of State has been destroyed? I’d like to remind you, Commander, that you don’t have an exclusive claim on patriotism. None of us does.”

Decker stared down at Havelock until he could no longer bear the contact. He turned away, the broad-shouldered body somehow shrinking beneath the tunic. “You tricked me. You made me say things I never would have said.”

“It’s my job.”

“Everything’s over for me. I’m finished.”

“Maybe not. As of this moment, I’d guess you are the least likely candidate as a security risk in the Pentagon. You’ve been burned by a legend and it’s a pain you’ll never forget. Nobody knows better than I do how persuasive Matthias could be.… We need help, not prison sentences. Packing you off to Leavenworth would only raise questions no one wants raised. We’re in a blind race; maybe you can help.”

Decker turned, swallowing, his face ashen. “In any way I can. How?”

Michael got out of the chair and came around the desk to face the officer. “For starters, nothing I’ve told you can be repeated.”

“My God, of
course
not.”

“No, of course not. You’d be hanging yourself.”

“I’d be hanging the country. I have no exclusivity on patriotism, but I am a patriot, Mr. Cross.”

Havelock walked past the coffee table and the couch, and was reminded of Jenna’s absence. Since they had agreed her presence would be inhibiting, she was upstairs; more accurately, she had insisted on not being there. He reached the wall, aimlessly studied a brass plaque, and spoke. “I’m going to guess again, Commander. There came a time when Matthias wouldn’t see you anymore. Am I right?”

“Yes. I phoned repeatedly—not at State, of course—but he never returned my calls.”

“Not at State?” asked Michael, turning. “But you
did
call there. It’s how I found you.”

“Only three times. Twice to say there were Sunday conferences at the Pentagon, and once to tell him I was going into the hospital for minor surgery on a Friday and expected to be there until Tuesday or Wednesday. He was very solicitous, but that was when he told me never again to reach him at the State Department.”

“You called the lodge, then?”

“And his house in Georgetown.”

“This was later?”

“Yes. I called night after night, but he wouldn’t come to the phone. Try to understand, Mr. Cross. I was aware of what I’d done, of the enormity of the violation I’d committed. Mind you, until a few minutes ago I never regretted it; I can’t change my beliefs, they’re ingrained in me. But back then—five or six months ago—I was bewildered, frightened perhaps, I’m not sure. I’d been left stranded—”

“You were in withdrawal,” interrupted Havelock. “You’d been on a high, on one of the most potent narcotics in the world. Anthony Matthias. Suddenly he wasn’t there any longer.”

“Yes, that’s it. Those were heady days, magnificent memories. Then I don’t know why, my connection to greatness ended. I thought perhaps it was something I’d done that displeased him, or information I’d brought him that was deficient, incomplete. I didn’t know; I just knew that I’d been cut off, with no explanation.”

“I understand,” said Michael, remembering so clearly the night in Cagnes-sur-Mer when his
přítel
did not come to the telephone five thousand miles away. “I’m surprised you didn’t force the issue, confront him somehow, somewhere. You were entitled to that explanation.”

“I didn’t have to. It was finally given to me.”

“What?”

“One evening, after I’d tried to reach him again, to no avail again, a man called me back. A very strange man—”

The prolonged outburst of the phone shattered the moment, blowing apart the taut line of concentration. Havelock
ran to the phone, to the sustained ring that signaled
Emergency
.

“It’s Loring,” said the strained voice in a half-whisper. “I’m hit. I’m okay, but I’m hit.”

“Where are you?”

“A motel on Highway Three-seventeen, near Harrington. The Pheasant Run Motel Cabin Twelve.”

“I’ll send a doctor.”

“A very
special
doctor, Havelock. Use the field in Denton.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had to get out of there. I grabbed a police car—”

“A police …?
Why?”

“I’ll tell you later. Everything.… Special doctor with a bagful of needles.”

“For Christ’s sake, spell it
out
, Charley!”

“I’ve got one of those sons of bitches. He’s strapped naked on the bed—no capsules, no razors. I’ve
got
one!”

Havelock stabbed the buttons on the Sterile Five telephone one after another, issuing orders one after another, as Lieutenant Commander Decker stood rigidly across the room, watching, listening, a helpless shell of a crusader whose cause had collapsed. The President was informed, and a very special doctor was being tracked down, to be sent to Maryland by helicopter, a Secret Service detail accompanying him. A second helicopter was prepared for takeoff, waiting for Michael at the field in Quantico six miles away; he would be driven there by the Secret Service escorts who had brought Decker to Sterile Five. The final call placed by Havelock was within the house itself. Upstairs. To Jenna Karas.

“I have to leave. It’s Loring in Maryland. He’s wounded, but he may have picked up a traveler—don’t ask me how. And you were right. One source. He’s here and has more to say; please come down and take it. I have to go.… Thanks.”

Michael got up from the desk and addressed the frightened naval officer. “A lady’s on her way here, and I’m ordering you—ordering you, Commander—to tell her everything you were going to tell me, and answer fully any questions she may ask. Your escort will be back in twenty minutes or so. When you’re finished, and only if she agrees, you may go. But once you reach your house you’re not to leave it for any reason whatsoever. You’ll be watched.”

“Yes, Mr. Cross.”

Havelock grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair and started toward the door. He stopped and turned to Decker, his hand on the knob. “Incidentally, her name is Mrs. Cross.”

All low-flying traffic was diverted as the two helicopters roared into the small private field in Denton, Maryland, the aircraft from the Bethesda Naval Hospital arriving eleven minutes before the chopper from Quantico. Havelock raced across the tarmac to the staff car sent over from Annapolis, the driver an ensign reputed to know the roads on the Eastern Shore of Chesapeake Bay. The ensign knew nothing else; no one did; not even the doctor whose orders were to take care of Charles Loring first, and not to administer anything to Loring’s prisoner until Sterile Five was on the scene. Two state police patrol cars had been sent to the Pheasant Run Motel; they would be given their instructions by the Secret Service.