TBE MATLOCK PAPER 233
can take calls starting this afternoon. Well screen them, of course.”
“Of course. Is that why you contacted me?’
“In parL The other reason is Greenberg. Jason Greenberg. He keeps calling
for you. He insists that you get in touch with him.”
“What did he say? Who talked to him?’
‘I did. Incidentally, my name’s Cliff.’
“O.K., Cliff, what did he say?”
“Ilat I should tell you to call him the minute I reached you. It was
imperative, critical. Ive got a number. It’s in Wheeling, West Virginie
“Give it to me.” Matlock withdrew his ballpoint pen and wrote -the number
on the wooden shelf under the telephone.
“Mr. Matlock?”
‘Whatr
“Greenberg also said- to tell you . that ‘the cities weren~t dying, they
were dead.’ Those were his words. The cities were dead.-
23
Cliff agreed without comment to retrieve the Corsican paper from Matlock’s
apartment. A rendezvous would be arranged later by telephone. In the event
the paper was missing, Charger Three-zero would alert him immediately.
Matlock restricted himself to one drink. He picked at his lunch and left
the Lobster House by three thirty. It was time to regroup his forces,
resupply his ammunition. He had parked the Cadillac in a lot sev. eral
blocks south of Blackstone’s office on Bond Street. It was one of those
municipal parking areas, each slot with its own meter. It occurred to
Matlock as he approached it that he hadn’t returned to insert additional
coins since going to Blackstone’s. The meters were only good for an hour;
he’d been there for nearly two. He wondered what rental-car businesses did
with the slew of traffic violations which had to mount up with transients.
He entered the lot and momentarily wondered if he was in the right aisle.
Then he realized he was not. The Cadillac was two lanes over, in the fourth
aisle. He started to sidle past the closely parked vehicles toward his own
and then he stopped.
In between the automobiles, he saw the blue and white stripes of a Hartford
patrol car. It was parked
TjRE mATLocK PAPER 235
directly behind his Cadillac. One police officer was trying the Cadillac!s
door handle, a second patrolman was leaning against the police vehicle
talking into a radio phone.
They’d found the car. It frightened him, but somehow it didiA surprise him.
He backed away cautiously, prepared to run if he was spotted. His thoughts
raced ahead to the problems to which this newest complication gave rise.
First and most immediate was an automobile. Second was the fact that they
knew he was in the Hartford vicinity. That ruled out other means of
transportation. The railroad stations, the bus tern-dnals, even the hack
bureaus would be alerted. It came back to finding another car.
And yet he wondered. Blackstone made it clear there were no charges against
him, no warrants. If there were, he would have received the message from
555-6868. He would have heard the words: “Charger Three-zero is canceled.”
He hadn’t. There’d been no hint of it. For a mo. ment he considered going
back to the patrol car, accepting a ticket for overtime.
He dismissed the thought. These police were not meter maids. There had been
a previous parking lot beyond an alley, at the rear of an A&P. And another
policeman-in civilian clothes-following him. A pattern was there, though it
eluded definition.
Matlock walked swiftly up Bond Street away from the municipal lot He turned
into the first side street and found himself beginning to break into a run.
Instantly he slowed down. There is nothing in a crowded street more
noticeable than a man running-unless it is a woman. He resumed a pace equal
to the after-
2,16 Robert Ludlum
V-
noon shoppers, doing his best to melt into the flow of human traffic. He
even paused now and then to stare blankly into store-front windows, not
really seeing the displays of merchandise. And then he began to reflect on
what was happening to him. The primitive instincts of the hunted were
suddenly working inside his brain. The protective antennae of the would-be
trapped animal were thrusting, parrying with their surroundings and,
chameleonlike, the body did its best to conform to the environment.
Yet he waset the huntedl He was the hunted Goddamn it, he was the hunter/
“Hello, Jiml How the hell are you? What are you doing in the big city?”
The shock of the greeting caused Matlock to lose his balance. To actually
lose his balance and trip. He fell to the sidewalk and the man who had
spoken tD him reached down and helped him up.
“Ohl Oh, hello, jeffl Christ, you startled me. Thanks.” Matlock got up and
brushed himself off. He looked around wondering who else besides Jeff
Kramer was watching him.
“A long lunch, buddy?” Kramer laughed. He was a Carlyle alumnus with a
graduate degree in psychology that had been impressive enough for an
expensive public relations firm.
“Lord, nol just have something on my mind. My bumbling old professor bag.”
And then Matlock looked at Jeff Kramer. Jeff Kramer was not only with an
expensive firrn, but he also had an expensive wife and two very expensive
kids in extremely expensive prep schools. Matlock felt he should
reemphasize his previous point. “For a fact, I had one unfinished bourbon.”
“Why don’t we rectify that,” said Kramer, pointing
= MATMCK P”ER 237
at the Hogshead Tavern across the street. “I haven’t seen you in months. I
read in The Courant you got yourself robbed.”
“Goddamn, did It The robbery I could take, but what they did to the
apartmentl And the carr Matlock headed toward the Hogshead Tavern with Jeff
Kramer. -Thaies why I’m in town. Got the Triumph in a garage here. Thaes my
problem, as a matter of facL”
The hunted not only had antennae which served to wam the host of its
enemies, but also the uncanny -if temporary-ability to turn disadvantage
into adWmtage. Conceivable liabilities intD positive assets.
Madock sipped his bourbon and water while Kzamer went through half his
Scotch in several swallows. ‘Me idea of a bus down to Scarsdale, with
changes at New Haven and Bridgeport, defeats ine.’
“Rent a car, for Christ’s sake.”
‘Just tried two places. The first can’t let me have one until tonight, the
second not until tomorrow. Some kind of convention, I guess.”
“So wait until tDnight.”
“Caift do it. Family business. My father called his council of economic
advisers. For dinner-and if you think rm going to Scarsdale without my own
wheels, yoxere out of itl” Matlock laughed and ordered another round of
drinks. He reached into his pocket and put a fifty-dollar billon the bar.
The bill had to attract the attention of Jeff Kramer, who had such an
expensive wife.
‘Never thought you could balance a checkbook, say nothing of being an
economic adviser.”
“Ali, but rm the prince royal. CaiYt forget that, can we?”
238 Robert Ludlum
‘Lucky bastard, that’s what I can~t forget. Lucky bastard.”
“Heyt rve got One hell of an idea. Your car in town?”
“Hey, wait a minute, good buddy. . .
“NO, listen.” Matlock took out his bills. ‘The old mazAl pay for it . – .
Rent me your car. Four or five days…. Here. IT give you two, three
hundred.*
~You’re nutsl-
No, I’m not He wants me down. He’ll payl”
Matlock could sense Kramer’s mind working. He was estimating the cost of a
low-priced rent-a-car for a week- Seventy-nine fifty and ten cents a mile
with an average daily mileage of, perhaps, fifteen or twenty. Tops, $io5,
and maybe $iio, for the week.
Kramer had that expensive wife and those two very expensive kids in
extremely expensive prep schools.
“I wouldn’t want to take you like that.-
Not viel Christ no. HiiW-
‘Well . . .”
“Here, let me write out a bill. III give it to him the minute I get there.”
Matlock grabbed a cocktail napkin and turned it over to the unprinted side.
He took out his ballpoint pen and began writing. “Simple contract…. 1,
James B. Matlock, agree to pay Jeffrey Kramer three hundre& . . . what the
hell, ies his money . – . ‘four hundred dollars for the rental of his
-whaes the make?”
“Ford wagon. A white Squire. Last year’s.” Kramer’s eyes alternately looked
at the napkin and the roll of bills Matlock carelessly left next to
Kramer’s elbow on the bar.
“‘Ford Wagon, for a period of lees say one
week, O.K.?’
THE MATLOCK PAPM 239
‘Fine.* Kramer drank the remainder of his second Scotch.
“‘One week…. Signed, James B. Matlockl’ There you are, friend.
Countersign. And heres four hundred. Courtesy of Jonathan Munro. Where’s
the car?”
The hunte&s instincts were infallible, thought Mat. lock, as Kramer
pocketed the bills and wiped his chin, which had begun to perspire. Kramer
removed the two car keys and the parking lot ticket from his pocket. True