The Parsifal Mosaic Read Online Free Page B

there. I’ll introduce you to a first-level attaché and tell him you’re selling but I don’t have either the resources or the interest to get involved. Okay?”
    “You know I can’t do that! And,
please—”
Gravet did not have to finish the request.
    “All right, all right.” Michael returned to the wall with the river below. “Then give me a number or a place of contact. I’ll phone it in and you can listen.”
    “Why are you doing this? Why the charade?”
    “Because it’s not a charade. As you said, we go back a long time. I’ll do you the favor and maybe you’ll be convinced. Maybe you’ll convince others, if they ask. Even if they don’t ask. How about it?”
    The Frenchman turned his head while leaning over the wall and stared at Havelock. “No, thank you, Michael. As with all manner of Satans, better a second-rater I’ve dealt with than one I haven’t. For what it’s worth, I think I believe you. You would not reveal a source like me, even to a first-level attaché. I’m down too deep, too respectable; you might need me. Yes, I do believe you.”
    “Make my life easier. Don’t keep it a secret.”
    “What about your opposite numbers in the KGB? Will they be convinced?”
    “I’m sure of it. Their moles probably got word to Dzerzhinsky Square before I signed the separation papers.”
    “They’ll suspect a ploy.”
    “All the more reason to leave me alone. Why bite into poisoned bait?”
    “They have chemicals. You all have chemicals.”
    “I can’t tell them anything they don’t know, and what I do know has already been changed. That’s the funny thing: my enemies have nothing to fear from me. The few names they might learn aren’t worth the price. There’d be reprisals.”
    “You’ve inflicted a great many wounds. There’s pride, vengeance; it’s the human condition.”
    “Not applicable. In those areas we’re even, and again I’m not worth it because there’s no practical result. Nobody kills unless there’s a reason. None of us wants to be responsible for the fallout. Crazy, isn’t it? Almost Victorian. When we’refinished, we’re out. Maybe we’ll all get together in a large black strategy room in hell and have a few drinks, but while we’re here, we’re out. That’s the irony, the futility, Gravet When we’re out we don’t care anymore. We don’t have any reason to hate. Or to kill.”
    “Nicely phrased, my friend. You’ve obviously thought about these things.”
    “I’ve had a lot of time recently.”
    “And there are those who are extremely
interested
in your recent observations, your conclusions—your role in life, as it were. But then, it’s to be expected. They’re such a manic—depressive people. Morose, then jubilant; filled with violence one minute, songs of the earth and sadness the next. And often quite paranoid; the darker aspects of classicism, I think. The slashing diagonals of Delacroix in a multiracial national psyche, so far-reaching, so contradictory. So suspicious—so Soviet.”
    Havelock stopped breathing; he returned Gravet’s stare. “Why did you do it?”
    “There was no harm. Had I learned otherwise, who knows what I would have told them? But since I
do
believe you, I explain why I had to test you.”
    “Moscow thinks I’m still in?”
    “I shall render the judgment that you are not. Whether they accept it or not is another matter.”
    “Why won’t they?” asked Havelock, his eyes on the water below.
    “I have no idea.… I shall miss you, Michael. You were always civilized. Difficult but civilized. Then again, you’re not a native-born American, are you? You’re really European.”
    “I’m American,” said Havelock quietly. “Really.”
    “You’ve done well by America, I’ll say that. If you change your mind—or it’s changed for you—get in touch with me. We can always do business.”
    “It’s not likely, but thanks.”
    “That’s not an outright rejection, either.”
    “I’m being