Read Online The Holcroft Covenant by Robert Ludlum - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Robert Ludlum
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walked back to the chair and sat down. He raised his glass to his lips and drank severallong swallows of whiskey; the scotch did nothing for him. The pounding in his chest only accelerated.
A flare of a match! Across the courtyard, in the window! There she was! Silhouetted beyond the sheer curtains in a wash of dim light stood the blond-haired woman. She was staring across the way, staring at
him!
He got out of the chair, drawn hypnotically to the window, his face inches from the panes of glass. The woman nodded her head; she was slowly
nodding her head!
She was telling him something. She was telling him that what he perceived was the truth!
…
The blond woman you’re talking about was Mrs. Palatyne, She died a month ago
.
A dead woman stood silhouetted in a window across the darkness and was sending him a terrible message. Oh, Christ, he was going
insane!
The telephone rang; the bell terrified him. He held his breath and lunged at the phone; he could not let it ring again. It did awful things to the silence.
“Mr. Holcroft, this is the overseas operator. I have your call to Zurich.…”
Noel listened in disbelief at the somber, accented voice from Switzerland. The man on the line was the manager of the Zurich branch of La Grande Banque de Genève. A
directeur
, he said twice, emphasizing his position.
“We mourn profoundly, Mr. Holcroft. We knew Herr Manfredi was not well, but we had no idea his illness had progressed so.”
“What are you talking about? What happened?”
“A terminal disease affects individuals differently. Our colleague was a vital man, an energetic man, and when such men cannot function in their normal fashions, it often leads to despondency and great depression.”
“What
happened?
”
“It was suicide, Mr. Holcroft. Herr Manfredi could not tolerate his incapacities.”
“Suicide?”
“There’s no point in speaking other than the truth. Ernst threw himself out of his hotel window. It was mercifully quick. At ten o’clock, La Grande Banque will suspend all business for one minute of mourning and reflection.”
“Oh, my
God
.…”
“However,” concluded the voice in Zurich, “all of Herr Manfredi’s accounts to which he gave his personal attention will be assumed by equally capable hands. We fully expect—”
Noel hung up the phone, cutting off the man’s words.
Accounts
…
will be assumed by equally capable hands
. Business as usual; a man was killed, but the affairs of Swiss finance were not to be interrupted. And he
was
killed.
Ernst Manfredi did not
throw
himself out of a hotel in Zurich. He was
thrown
out. Murdered by the men of Wolfsschanze.
For God’s sake,
why?
Then Holcroft remembered. Manfredi had dismissed the men of Wolfsschanze. He had told Noel the macabre threats were meaningless, the anguish of sick old men seeking atonement.
That had been Manfredi’s error. He had undoubtedly told his associates, the other directors of La Grande Banque, about the strange letter that had been delivered with the wax seals unbroken. Perhaps, in their presence, he had laughed at the men of Wolfsschanze.
The match! The flare of light! Across the courtyard the woman in the window nodded! Again—as if reading his thoughts—she was confirming the truth. A dead woman was telling him he was right!
She turned and walked away; all light went out in the window.
“Come back! Come
back!
” Holcroft screamed, his hands on the panes of glass. “Who
are
you?”
The telephone beneath him buzzed. Noel stared at it, as if it were a terrible thing in an unfamiliar place; it was both. Trembling, he picked it up.
“Mr. Holcroft, it’s Jack. I
think
I may know what the hell happened up at your place. I mean, I didn’t think about it before, but it kinda hit me a few minutes ago.”
“What was it?”
“A couple of nights ago these two guys came in. Locksmiths. Mr. Silverstein, on your floor, was having his lock changed. Louie told me about it, so I knew it was okay.
A flare of a match! Across the courtyard, in the window! There she was! Silhouetted beyond the sheer curtains in a wash of dim light stood the blond-haired woman. She was staring across the way, staring at
him!
He got out of the chair, drawn hypnotically to the window, his face inches from the panes of glass. The woman nodded her head; she was slowly
nodding her head!
She was telling him something. She was telling him that what he perceived was the truth!
…
The blond woman you’re talking about was Mrs. Palatyne, She died a month ago
.
A dead woman stood silhouetted in a window across the darkness and was sending him a terrible message. Oh, Christ, he was going
insane!
The telephone rang; the bell terrified him. He held his breath and lunged at the phone; he could not let it ring again. It did awful things to the silence.
“Mr. Holcroft, this is the overseas operator. I have your call to Zurich.…”
Noel listened in disbelief at the somber, accented voice from Switzerland. The man on the line was the manager of the Zurich branch of La Grande Banque de Genève. A
directeur
, he said twice, emphasizing his position.
“We mourn profoundly, Mr. Holcroft. We knew Herr Manfredi was not well, but we had no idea his illness had progressed so.”
“What are you talking about? What happened?”
“A terminal disease affects individuals differently. Our colleague was a vital man, an energetic man, and when such men cannot function in their normal fashions, it often leads to despondency and great depression.”
“What
happened?
”
“It was suicide, Mr. Holcroft. Herr Manfredi could not tolerate his incapacities.”
“Suicide?”
“There’s no point in speaking other than the truth. Ernst threw himself out of his hotel window. It was mercifully quick. At ten o’clock, La Grande Banque will suspend all business for one minute of mourning and reflection.”
“Oh, my
God
.…”
“However,” concluded the voice in Zurich, “all of Herr Manfredi’s accounts to which he gave his personal attention will be assumed by equally capable hands. We fully expect—”
Noel hung up the phone, cutting off the man’s words.
Accounts
…
will be assumed by equally capable hands
. Business as usual; a man was killed, but the affairs of Swiss finance were not to be interrupted. And he
was
killed.
Ernst Manfredi did not
throw
himself out of a hotel in Zurich. He was
thrown
out. Murdered by the men of Wolfsschanze.
For God’s sake,
why?
Then Holcroft remembered. Manfredi had dismissed the men of Wolfsschanze. He had told Noel the macabre threats were meaningless, the anguish of sick old men seeking atonement.
That had been Manfredi’s error. He had undoubtedly told his associates, the other directors of La Grande Banque, about the strange letter that had been delivered with the wax seals unbroken. Perhaps, in their presence, he had laughed at the men of Wolfsschanze.
The match! The flare of light! Across the courtyard the woman in the window nodded! Again—as if reading his thoughts—she was confirming the truth. A dead woman was telling him he was right!
She turned and walked away; all light went out in the window.
“Come back! Come
back!
” Holcroft screamed, his hands on the panes of glass. “Who
are
you?”
The telephone beneath him buzzed. Noel stared at it, as if it were a terrible thing in an unfamiliar place; it was both. Trembling, he picked it up.
“Mr. Holcroft, it’s Jack. I
think
I may know what the hell happened up at your place. I mean, I didn’t think about it before, but it kinda hit me a few minutes ago.”
“What was it?”
“A couple of nights ago these two guys came in. Locksmiths. Mr. Silverstein, on your floor, was having his lock changed. Louie told me about it, so I knew it was okay.
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