Topaz - Leon Uris [91]
“I was wondering about that,” Columbine said. “I learned just before I came today that Devereaux is on the way to Paris ... aboard an American Air Force jet.”
“That could mean Topaz, the missile business ... or both. What about Devereaux’s movements?” Gorin asked.
“I was able to find out,” Columbine said, “that several months ago he went on a series of weekend or overnight trips out of Washington. Apparently he did not travel far. He left and returned by automobile, often in the company of Nordstrom. One conversation brought out the words ‘Maryland countryside.’ In recent months his trips have taken him closer, a shorter drive, again often in Nordstrom’s company. The only clue would be ‘Bethesda Naval Hospital.’ ”
Gorin stopped, mulled .... “Bethesda Naval Hospital,” he grumbled.
“It’s close to Washington and is used by a number of Congressmen and high-ranking military. At times, American Presidents have been interned there. Therefore, elaborate security measures are commonplace.”
“That fits with what we know,” Gorin said. “The defector had a history of heart trouble. He could well be at that hospital. Your main objective, and this is imperative ... is to totally discredit Devereaux.”
“You know that’s not so easy,” Columbine said. “He has a spotless reputation and friends and he thinks fast. We’ve tried to smear him and set him up time and again. La Croix isn’t being taken in so fast. Even though he and Devereaux have different politics, La Croix respects him too much.”
“Well,” Gorin said, “we’ll make a deal with him. Devereaux will have to join us.”
“He’ll never make a deal. He’s too damned honest.”
“Big men have big blind spots,” Gorin answered. “Devereaux has his and we know what it is. He’ll deal.”
Columbine stopped, stepped on his cigarette butt, took another one from the pack, flicked on his lighter and cupped his hands to keep the flame. He looked up, his gray eyes staring curiously at the Russian.
“Devereaux has a mistress in Cuba,” Gorin said. “Juanita de Córdoba. She was probably a member of his operation.”
“You’re a fool, Gorin. He’s too smart to get himself involved beyond a casual affair.”
“Big men have big blind spots,” the Russian repeated. “He’s insanely in love with her. Why else would the head of an intelligence section personally attempt to take a boat into Cuba to get his woman?”
Columbine sucked at the cigarette without comment.
“When the time comes, he’ll make a deal with us to save her life. I’ll see you here next Friday.”
Columbine watched the Russian disappear down the path in the fast-fading light. He wondered if at last he had found the elusive key to destroy his archenemy, André Devereaux.
Part IV
Le Grand Pierre
1
The Year of 1940
FRANCE HAD FALLEN!
The beginning for André Devereaux was his town of Montrichard in the Loire Valley, named for the river that flowed through this, the garden of France.
The Loire Valley, magnificent with its hundred great châteaux, their lakes, their formal gardens, their woodlands. The playground of royalty and a mistress of history for over a thousand years.
It was Orléans of Joan of Arc.
It was Charlemagne and his Abbey of Pont-Levoy, the oldest school in all of Europe.
It was the resting place of Leonardo da Vinci and the Castle of Chambord, enriched by the hand of his genius.
Oh, the castles of the Loir-et-Cher! Chaumont and Montrésor and Amboise, where da Vinci died, and the Castle of Chenonceaux with its five arches built over the Cher River itself!
It was the staggering rock at Le Puy crowned by the statue of the Black Virgin.
It was the hunt. The ride for the boar and the fox behind the magnificent hounds of Cheverny.
It was the grape of Tours and the sparkling bubbles of Vouvray and the scrubby farms and goat cheese of Sancerre.
Montrichard, the home of André Devereaux, lay in the heart of this France. Cobblestone streets and dramatic cliffs fell to the white sand beaches of the Cher. The winery of Montmousseau on the