Free The Holcroft Covenant by Robert Ludlum

again; he gripped the lighter as tightly as he could.
    “That’s a dreadful habit,” said Althene, her eyes remaining on the letter. “I thought you were going to give it up.”
    “I have. A number of times.”
    “Mark Twain said that. At least be original.”
    Holcroft shifted his position in the chair, feeling awkward. “You’ve read it several times now. What do you think?”
    “I don’t
know
what to think,” said Althene, placing the letter on the desk in front of her. “He wrote it; it’s his handwriting, his way of expressing himself. Arrogant even in remorse.”
    “You agree it’s remorse then?”
    “It would appear so. On the surface, at any rate. I’d want to know a great deal more. I have a number of questions about this extraordinary financial undertaking. It’s beyond anything conceivable.”
    “Questions lead to other questions, mother. The men in Geneva don’t want that.”
    “Does it matter what they want? As I understand you, although you’re being elliptical, they’re asking you to give up a minimum of six months of your life and probably a good deal more.”
    Again, Noel felt awkward. He had decided not to show her the document from La Grande Banque. If she was adamant about seeing it, he could always produce it. If she was not, it was better that way; the less she knew, the better. He had to keep her from the men of Wolfsschanze. He had not the slightest doubt Althene would interfere.
    “I’m not holding back any of the essentials,” he said.
    “I didn’t say you were. I said you were elliptical. You refer to a man in Geneva you won’t identify; you speak of conditions you only half describe, the oldest children of two families you won’t name. You’re leaving out a great deal.”
    “For your own good.”
    “That’s condescending and, considering this letter, very insulting.”
    “I didn’t mean to be either.” Holcroft leaned forward. “No one wants that bank account even remotely connected with you. You’ve read that letter; you know what’s involved. Thousands and thousands of people, hundreds of millions of dollars. There’s no way to tell who might hold
you
responsible. You were the wife who told him the truth; you left him because he refused to accept it. When he finally realized that what you said
was
true, he did what he did. There may be men still alive who would kill you for that. I won’t let you be put in that position.”
    “I see.” Althene drew out the phrase, then repeated it as she rose from her chair and walked slowly across the room to the bay window. “Are you sure that’s the concern the men in Geneva expressed?”
    “They—he—implied it, yes.”
    “I suspect it was not the only concern.”
    “No.”
    “Shall I speculate on another?”
    Noel stiffened. It was not that he underestimated his mother’s perceptions—he rarely did that—but, as always, he was annoyed when she verbalized them before he had the chance to state them himself.
    “I think it’s obvious,” he said.
    “Do you?” Althene turned from the window and looked at him.
    “It’s in the letter. If the sources of that account were made public, there’d be legal problems. Claims would be made against it in the international courts.”
    “Yes.” His mother looked away. “It’s obvious, then. I’m amazed you were allowed to tell me anything.”
    Noel leaned back in the chair apprehensively, disturbed at Althene’s words. “Why? Would you really do something?”
    “It’s a temptation,” she answered, still gazing outside. “I don’t think one ever loses the desire to strikeback, to lash out at someone or something that’s caused great pain. Even if that hurt changed your life for the better. God knows mine—ours—was changed. From a hell to a level of happiness I’d given up looking for.”
    “Dad?” asked Noel.
    Althene turned. “Yes. He risked more than you’ll ever know protecting us. I’d been the fool of the world and he accepted the