telling me and I wish you would. But I shan1 insist upon it I will tell you
that your story is boggled with a large mathematical inconsistency~-
“What!s that?”
“As I understand it, the money you are prepared to lose tomorrow evening is
far in excess of any amount Patricia might realize in scholarshLip aid. The
logical
THE MATLOCK PAPER 209
assumption, therefore, is that you do not wish to go to the police. Or
perhaps, you can7t”
Matlock looked up at the Englishman and wondered at his own stupidity. He
felt embarrassed and very inadequate. “I’m sorry…. I haven’t consciously
lied to you. You don’t have to go through with it; maybe I shouldn7t have
asked.”
“I never implied that you lied-not that it matters. Only that there was
much you haven7t told me. Of course, I’ll do it. I just want you to know
I’m a willing audience when and if you decide to tell me everything thaes
happened… Now, ies late and yoxere tired. Why doet you take my room.”
No, thanks. I’ll sack out here. It has pleasant memories. A blanket’s all.
I need. Also I have to make a phone call.”
“Anything you say. A blanket you’ll get, and you know where the phone is.”
When Holden left, Matlock went to the phone. The Tel-electronic device he’d
agreed to lease would not be ready until Monday morning.
“Blackstone.”
‘This is James Matlock. I was told to caU this num. ber for any messages.”
“Yes, Mr. Matlock There is a message, if youll hold on while I get the
card… Here it is. From the Carlyle team. Everything is secure. The
subject is responding nicely to medical treatment. The subject had three
visitors. A Mr. Samuel Kressel, a Mr. Adrian Sealfont, and a Miss Lois
Meyers. The subject received two telephone calls, neither of which the phy-
sician allowed to be taken. They were from the same individual, a Mr. Jason
Greenberg. The calls were from Wheeling, West Virginia. At no time was the
2io Robert Ludlum
subject separated from the Carlyle teain. … You can relax.”
“Thank you. I will. You’re very thorough. Good night” Matlock breathed
deeply in relief and exhaustion. Lois Meyers lived across the hall from Pat
in the graduate apartment house. The fact that Greenberg had called was
comforting. He missed Greenberg.
He reached up and turned off the table lamp by the sofa. The bright April
moon shone through the windows. The man from Blackstones service was right
-he could relax.
What he couldet allow to relax were his thoughts about tomorrow-and after
tomorrow Everything had to remain accelerated; one productive day had to
lead into another. There could be no letup, no sense of momentary
satisfaction which might slow his thrust.
And after tomorrow. After Sammy Sharpe!s in Windsor Shoals. If all went
according to his calculations, it would be the time to head into the
Carlyle area. Matlock closed his eyes and saw Blackstone’s printed page in
front of his mind.
CARMOUNT COUNTRY CLUB—CONTACr: HOWAM
STOCKTON
WEST CARLYLE SAII AND SKI RESORT–CONTACr: ALA14
CANTOR
Carmount was east of Carlyle near the border of Mount Holly. Ile Sail and
Ski was west, on Lake Derron-a summer and winter resort area.
He’d find some reason to have Bartolozzi or Aiello, or, perhaps, Sammy
Sharpe., make the proper intro-
TBE MATLc= PApm 2u
ductions. And once In the Carlyle area, he would drop the hints. Perhaps
more than hints-commands, requirements, necessities. This was the boldness
he needed to use, this was the way of Nimrod.
His eyes remained closed, the muscles in his body sagged, and the pitch
darkness of exhausted sleep came over him. But before sleeping he
remembered the paper. The Corsican paper. He bad to get the paper now. He
would need the silver paper. He would need the invitation to Nimrod.
His invitation now. His paper.
The Matlock paper.
21
If the elders at the Windsor Shoals Congregational Church had ever realized
that Samuel Sharpe, attorney at law, the very bright Jewish lawyer who han-
dled the churcYs finances, was referred to as Sammy the Runner by most of
North Hartford and South Springfield, Massachusetts, vespers would have been
canceled for a month. Fortunately, such a revelation had never been made to
them and the Congregational Church looked favorably on him. He had done
remarkable things for the churcYs portfolio and gave handsomely himself
during fund drives. The Congregational Church of Windsor Shoals, as indeed
most of the town, was nicely disposed toward Samuel Sharpe.
Matlock learned all of this in Sharpe’s office inside the Windsor Valley
Inn. The framed citations on the wall told half the story, and Jacopo
Bartolozzi goodnaturedly supplied the rest. Jacopo was actually makIng sure
that Matlock and his English friend were aware that Sharp6s operation, as
well as Sharpe himself, lacked the fine traditions of the Avon Swim Club.
Holden surpassed Matlock’s expectations. Several times he nearly laughed
out loud as he watched Holden take hundred-dollar bills-rushed into Webster
by a harassed, nervous Alex Anderson–and flick
TBE AUTTAXX PAPER 213
them nonchalantly at a croupier, never bothering to count the chips but
somehow letting everyone at whatever table he was at realize that he knew-to
the dollar-the amount given him. Holden played intelligently, cautiously,
and at one point was ahead of the house by nine thousand dollars. By the end
of the evening, he had cut his winnings to several hundred and the operators
of the Windsor Valley breathed grateful sighs of relief.
James Matlock cursed his second night of terrible luck and took his
twelve-hundred-dollar loss for what it meant to him-nothing.
At four in the morning Matlock and Holden, flanked by Aiello, Bartolo=d,
Sharpe, and two of their cronies, sat at a large oak table in the colonial
dining room. They were alone. A waiter and two busboys were cleaning up;
the gambling room on the third floor of the inn had closedL
The husky Aiello and the short, fat Bartolozzi kept up a running commentary
about their respective eftentele, each hying to upstage the other with
regard to their customers’ status; each allowing that ‘it might be nice for
the other to become “acquainted7 with a Mr. and Mrs. Johnson of Canton or
a certain Dr. Wadsworth. Sharpe, on the other hand, seemed more interested
in Holden and the action in England. He -told- several- funny,
–self-effacing -stories about his visits to London clubs and his
insurmountable difficulty with British currency in the heat of betting.
Matlock thought~ as he watched Sammy Sharpe, that he was a very charming
man. it wasnI hard to believe that Sharpe was considered a respectable as-
set to Windsor Shoals, Connecticut. He couldn~t help comparing Sharpe to
Jason Greenberg. And in the comparison, he found an essential difference.
it was
214 Robert Ludlum
told in the eyes. Greenberes were soft and compassionate, even in anger.
Sharpe!s were cold, hard, incessantly darting-6trangely in conflict with the
rest of his relaxed face.
He, heard Bartolo2ml ask Holden where he was off tD nexL Holden7s offhand
reply gave him the opportunity he was looking for. He waited for the right
nioment
Tin afraid rm not at liberty to discuss my itinerary.*
‘He means where he!s going,” injected Rocco Aiello.
BartDlozzi shot Aiello a withering glance. “I just thought you should drop
over to Avon. I got a real nice place I think youd enjoy.”
‘Tin sure I would. Perhaps another time.’
Johnny’ll be in touch with me next weeV Matlock sad. “We% get tDgether.” He
reached for an ashtray and crushed out his cigarette. “I have to be in …
Carlyle, thaes the name of the place.”
There was the slightest pause in the conversation. Sharpe, Aiello, and one
of the other two men exchanged looks. BartolozzL however, seemed oblivious
to any deep meaning.
Me college placer asked the short Italian.
OThafs right,” answered Matlock. “I’ll probably stay at carniount or the
Sail and Ski. I guess you fellows know where they are.”
“I guess we do.” Aiello laughe&softly.
OWhafs your business in Carlyle?” The unidentified mmi-at least no one had
bothered to introduce him by name-drew deeply on a cigar as he spoke.
amy business,- said Matlock pleasandir.
&just asking. No offense.”
&No offense taken…. Hey, ies damned near four thirtyl You fellows are too
hospitable Matlock
THE MATLOCK PAMM 215
pushed his chair back, prepared to stand.
The man with the cigar, however, had to ask another question.
“Is your friend going to Carlyle with you?”
Holden held up his hand playfully. “Sorry, no itineraries. I’m simply a
visitor to your pleasant shores and filled with a tourisfs plans…. We
really must 90.
Both men rose from the table. Sharpe stood, too. Before the others could
move, Sharpe spoke.
“I’ll see the boys to their car and show them the road out. You fellows
wait here-we’ll settle accounts. I owe you money, Rocco. Frank owes me.
Maybe III come out even.”
The man with the cigar, whose name was obviously Frank, laughed. Aiello