Free The Holcroft Covenant by Robert Ludlum Page A

fool—and the fool’s child. He gave us more than love; he gave us our lives again. He asked only love in return.”
    “You’ve given him that.”
    “I’ll give it till I die. Richard Holcroft is the man I once thought Clausen was. I was so wrong, so terribly wrong.… The fact that Heinrich has been dead these many years doesn’t seem to matter; the loathing won’t go away. I do want to strike back.”
    Noel kept his voice calm. He had to lead his mother away from her thoughts; the survivors of Wolfsschanze would not let her live. “You’d be striking back at the man you remember, not the man who wrote that letter. Maybe what you saw in him at first was really there. At the end, it came back to him.”
    “That would be comforting, wouldn’t it?”
    “I think it’s true. The man who wrote that letter wasn’t lying. He was in pain.”
    “He deserved pain, he caused so much; he was the most ruthless man I ever met. But on the surface, so different, so filled with purpose. And—oh,
God
—what that purpose turned out to be!”
    “He changed, mother,” interrupted Holcroft. “You were a part of that change. At the end of his life he wanted only to help undo what he’d done. He says it: ‘Amends must be made.’ Think what he did—what the three of them did—to bring that about.”
    “I can’t dismiss it; I know that. Any more than I can dismiss the words. I can almost hear him say them, but it’s a very young man talking. A young man filled with purpose, a very young, wild girl at his side.” Althene paused, then spoke again, clearly. “Why did you show me the letter? Why did you bring it all back?”
    “Because I’ve decided to go ahead. That means closing the office, traveling around a lot, eventually working out of Switzerland for a number of months. As the man inGeneva said, you wouldn’t have accepted all that without asking a lot of questions. He was afraid you’d learn something damaging and do something rash.”
    “At
your
expense?” asked Althene.
    “I guess so. He thought it was a possibility. He said those memories of yours were strong. ‘Indelibly printed’ were his words.”
    “Indelibly,” agreed Althene.
    “His point was that there were no legal solutions; that it was better to use the money the way it was intended to be used. To make those amends.”
    “It’s possible he was right. If it can be done. God knows it’s overdue. Whatever Heinrich touched, very little of value and truth was the result.” Althene paused, her face suddenly strained. “You were the one exception. Perhaps this is the other.”
    Noel got out of the chair and went to his mother. He took her by the shoulders and drew her to him. “That man in Geneva said you were incredible. You are.”
    Althene pulled back. “He said that? ‘Incredible’?”
    “Yes.”
    “Ernst Manfredi,” she whispered.
    “You
know
him?” asked Holcroft.
    “It’s a name that goes back many years. He’s still alive then.”
    Noel did not answer her question. “How did you know it was he?”
    “A summer afternoon in Berlin. He was there. He helped us get out. You and I. He got us on the plane, gave me money. Dear
God
.…” Althene disengaged herself from her son’s arms and walked across the room, toward the desk. “He called me ‘incredible’ then, that afternoon. He said they would hunt me, find me. Find us. He said he would do what he could. He told me what to do, what to say. An unimpressive little Swiss banker was a giant that afternoon. My God, after all these years …”
    Noel watched his mother, his astonishment complete. “Why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t he
tell
me?”
    Althene turned, facing her son but not looking at him. She was staring beyond him, seeing things he could not see. “I think he wanted me to find out for myself. This way. He was not a man to call in old debts indiscriminately.” She sighed. “I won’t pretend the questionsare put to rest. I promise nothing. If I decide