Topaz - Leon Uris [136]
“Good Lord, Jacques, now what would I do with all that power and all that money?”
Jacques grabbed his arm. “You’re not even human! Be man enough to be outraged about me and your wife!”
“Outraged? A little. Hurt? A great deal. A man? I first became a man the day I learned about my wife and I knew I had the compassion to forgive her. I was going to make a dramatic exit by spitting in your face but it’s a waste of good spittle.”
André walked out.
21
ROBERT PROUST RETRIEVED THE letters from his private post box at the Capucines Station and rushed back to the privacy of his apartment. Two letters—one to the President, the other a copy addressed to him. His fingers tore at the envelope of the copy clumsily, and he unfolded it with a shaking hand and read:
October 30, 1963
Le Président de la République
Élysée Palace
Paris, France
MY DEAR MONSIEUR LE PRÉSIDENT,
As of this date I resign my mission.
However, I resign in protest. I do not defect to any enemy or ally. I resign as a Frenchman. I remain a Frenchman with the right to return and to serve honorably as soon as I am able.
I accuse you of refusal to answer to the charges of infiltration of the French Government by a Soviet Union espionage ring known by the code name of Topaz.
I suggest that you, personally, have been the subject of Soviet Disinformation supplied to you by Topaz No. 1. His code name is Columbine and he is your Executive Aide, Jacques Granville.
I deplore the return to an archaic foreign policy that has led to the destruction of France twice in this century.
I condemn your scheme to abandon NATO and the combined security of the Western world.
I will not, in all conscience, serve France under your orders to commit espionage against the United States of America.
I warn you and the world of the monstrous plot to create anarchy and deliver France to a Communist conspiracy after your death.
I love France as you claim to love France, and I say you have betrayed France to further your personal ambitions.
Long live France!
André Devereaux
22
PIERRE LA CROIX ARRANGED himself before his desk as his late and highly personal mail and messages were set in place for him to read before retiring. He sipped the coffee beside him and went into an exaggerated reading posture to get his eyes close to the paper.
The third envelope in the stack was unmarked except for his name. He turned it over, back and front, then put the silver letter opener into the fold and ripped the envelope open. He looked puzzled an instant at the handwritten letter, for his orders were to have all written material typed and in capitals for easier reading.
It was the resignation of André Devereaux.
When he was finished, his hand slowly pulled off the thick glasses. A terrible cold sweat swept over him as he grunted aloud, “Devereaux!” Almost the last of those who dared stand up to him. Damn Devereaux!
How long ago had the young man sat unflinching before him? His words ... now they taunted .... “If you will look honestly and deeply, perhaps you will admit your feeling about America is one of extreme jealousy and hatred. It can be used by men who understand this. I beg of you, don’t let those around you distort and twist your feelings into a conspiracy against the democracies.”
Pierre La Croix’s fist cracked the desk. “La Croix is not used! La Croix uses! Damned old fool,” he uttered harshly to himself.
But all that really mattered to him now was to protect his place in history. Damned if he would go out in disgrace, in scandal, a laughingstock. A pawn used, as he had played others for pawns all his life. No, he would not go out like that. Not after what