The Holcroft Covenant Read Online Free PDF Page B

mother.”
    “What?”
Holcroft was stunned. “I thought you said …”
    “Complete secrecy? Yes, but your mother is the single exception.”
    “Why? I’d think she’d be the last …”
    “She’s the first. And only. She’ll honor the confidence.”
    Manfredi had been right. If his answer was yes, he would by necessity suspend his firm’s activities and begin his travels to make contact with the offspring of Kessler and Von Tiebolt. His mother’s curiosity would be aroused; she was not a woman to let her curiosity lie dormant. She would make inquiries, and if, by any chance—however remote—she unearthed information about the millions in Geneva and Heinrich Clausen’s role in the massive theft, her reaction would be violent. Her memories of the paranoiac gangsters of the Third Reich were indelibly printed on her mind. If she made damaging disclosures public, the funds would be tied up in the international courts for years.
    “Suppose she isn’t persuaded?”
    “You must be convincing. The letter is convincing, and we’ll step in, if need be. Regardless, it’s better to know her position at the outset.”
    What would that position be? Noel wondered. Althene was not your run-of-the-mill mother, as mothers were understood by this particular son. He knew very early in life that Althene was different. She did not fit into the mold of the wealthy Manhattan matron. The trappings were there—or had been. The horses, the boats, the weekends in Aspen and in the Hamptons, but not the frantic chase for ever-expanding acceptance and social control.
    She’d done it all before. She’d lived in the turbulence that was the European thirties, a young, carefree American whose family had something left after the crash and were more comfortable away from their less-fortunate peers. She had known the Court of St. James’s as well asthe expatriate
salons
in Paris … and the dashing new inheritors of Germany. And out of those years had come a serenity shaped by love, exhaustion, loathing, and rage.
    Althene was a special person, as much a friend as a mother, that friendship deep and without the need for constant reaffirmation. In point of fact, thought Holcroft, she was more friend than mother; she was never entirely comfortable in the latter role.
    “I’ve made too many mistakes, my dear,” she had said to him once, laughing, “to assume an authority based on biology.”
    Now he would ask her to face the memory of a man she had spent a great deal of her life trying to forget. Would she be frightened? That wasn’t likely. Would she doubt the objectives set forth in the document given him by Ernst Manfredi? How could she, after reading the letter from Heinrich Clausen. Whatever her memories, his mother was a woman of intellect and perception. All men were subject to change, to remorse. She would have to accept that, no matter how distasteful it might be to her in this particular case.
    It was the weekend; tomorrow was Sunday. His mother and stepfather spent the weekends at their house in the country, in Bedford Hills. In the morning he would drive up and have that talk.
    And on Monday he would take the first steps on a trip that would lead him back to Switzerland. To an as yet unknown agency in Zurich. On Monday the hunt would begin.
    Noel recalled his exchange with Manfredi. They were among the last words spoken before Holcroft left the train.
    “The Kesslers had two sons. The oldest, Erich—named for the father—is a professor of history at the University of Berlin. The younger brother, Hans, is a doctor in Munich. From what we know, both are highly regarded in their respective communities. They’re very close. Once Erich is told of the situation, he may insist on his brother’s inclusion.”
    “Is that permitted?”
    “There’s nothing in the document that prohibits it. However, the stipend remains the same and each family has but one vote in all decisions.”
    “What about the Von