qualification to something so vital?
The assumption had to be that in the intricate delicacy of a mind
foundering on the brink of madness, the worst evil was rejected. Had to be
rejected so as to hold onto what was left of sanity.
No…. No, they had not found whatever it was they had to fin& And since
they hadn~t found it after such exhaustive, extraordinary labors-it didnI
exist.
But he knew it did.
Herron may have been involved with Nimro& world, but he was not bom of it.
His was not a comfortable relationship-it was a tortured one. Somewhere,
someplace he had left an indictment He was too good a man not to. There had
been a great decency in Lucas Herron. Somewhere . . . someplace.
But where?
He got out of the chair and paced in the darkness of the room, flicking the
flashlight on and off, more as a nervous gesture than for illumination.
He reexamined minutely every word, every expression used by Lucas that
early evening four days ago. He was the hunter again, tracking the spoor,
testing the wind for the scent. And he was close; goddamn it, he was closel
… Herron had known from the seeond he!d opened his front door what
Matlock was after. That instantaneous, fleeting moment of recognition had
been in his eyes. It had been unmistakable to Madock. He!d even said as
much to the old man,
3o6 Robert Ludlum
and the old man had laughed and accused him of being influenced by plots and
counterplots.
But there’d been something else. Before the plots and counterplots….
Something inside. In this room. Before Herron suggested sitting outside….
Only he haMt suggested, he!d made a statement, given a command.
And just before h6d given the command to rearmarch toward the backyard
patio, hed walked in silently, walked in silently, and startled Matlock. He
had opened the swinging door, carrying two filled glasses, and Matlock
hadiet heard him. Matlock pushed the button on the flashlight and shot the
beam to the base of the kitchen door. There was no rug, nothing to muffle
footsteps-it was a hardwood floor. He crossed to the open swing hmged door,
walked through the frame, and shut it Then he pushed it swiftly open in the
same direction Lucas Herron had pushed it carrying the two drinks. The
hinges clicked as such hinges do if they are old and the door is pushed
quickly-normally. He let the door swing shut and then he pressed against it
slowly, inch by inch.
It was silent
Lucas Herron had made the drinks and then silently had eased himself back
into the living room so he wouI4Wt be heard. So he could observe Matlock
without Matlocks knowing it And then he!d given his firm command for the
two of them to go outside.
Matlock forced his memory to recall precisely what Lucas Herron said and
did at that precise moment
“. . . well go out on the patio. It’s too nice a day to stay inside. Lees
go.w
Then, without waiting for an answer, even a mildly enthusiastic agreement,
Herron had walked rapidly back &,ough the kitchen door No surface
politeness,
THE mATLocK PAP= 307
none of the courtly manners one expected from Lucas.
He had given an order, the firm command of an officer and a gentleman.
By Act of Congress.
That was id Matlock swung the beam of light over the writing desk.
The photographl The photograph of the marine officer holding the map and
the Thompson autDmatic in some tiny section of jungle on an insignificant
island in the South Pacific.
“I keep that old photograph to remind myself that time uwret alivays so
devastating.”
At the precise moment Herron walked through the door, Matlock had been
looking closely at the photographl The fact that he was doing so disturbed
the old man, disturbed him enough for him to insist that they go outside
instantly. In a curt, abrupt marmer so unlike him.
Matlock walked rapidly to the desk The small cellophane-topped photograph
was still where it had been–on the lower right wall above the desk Several
larger glass-framed pictures had been smashed, this one was intacL It was
small, not at all imposing.
He grabbed the cardboard frame and pulled the photo off the single
thumbtack which held it to the wall. He looked at it carefully, turning it
over, in. specting the thin edges.
The dose, harsh glare of the flashlight revealed scratches at the upper
comer of the cardboard. Fingernail scratches? Perhaps. He pointed the light
down on the desk top. There were unsharpened penci* scraps of note paper,
and a pair of scissors. He took the scissors and inserted the point of one
blade be. tween the thin layers of cardboard until he could rip the
photograph out of the frame.
3o8 Robett Lu&um
And in that way he found it
On the back of the small photograph was a diagram drawn with a broad-tipped
fountain pen. It was in the shape of a rectangle, the bottom and top lines
Bed in with dots. On the top were two small lines with anxnvs, one
straight, the other pointing to the right. Above each arrowhead was the
numeral 30Two 3os.
Thirty.
On the sides, bordering the lines, wen childishly drawn trees.
on the top, above the numbers, was another sunplified sketch. Billowy
half-circles connected to one another with a wavy line beneath. A cloud.
Under neath, more bves.
it was a map, and what it represented was all too apparw& It was Herron’s
back yard; the lines on &w sides represented Herroes forbidding green walL
The numerals, the 3os, were measurements–but they were also something
else. They were contemporary symbols.
For Lucas Herron, chairman for decades of Romance Languages, had an
insatiable love for words and their odd usages. What was more appropriate
than the symbol “30” to indicate finality?
As any first year journalism student would confirm, the number 3o at the
bottom of any news copy meant the story was finished. It was over.
There was no more to be said.
Matlock held the photograph upside down in his left hand, his right
gripping the flashlight. He entered the woods at midsection-slightly to the
left–as indWated on the diagram The figure 30 could be feek
THE MATIDM PAPER 3D9
yards, meters, paces-certainly not inches.
He marked off thirty twelve-inch spaces. Thirty feet straight, thirty feet
to the right.
Nothing.
Nothing but the drenched, full overgrowth and underbrush which clawed at
his feet.
He returned to the green walrs entrance and decided to combine yards and
paces, realizing that paces in such a dense, jungle like environment might
vary considerably.
He marked off the spot thirty paces directly ahead and continued until he
estimated the point of yardage. Then he returned to the bent branches where
he had figured thirty paces to be and began the lateral trek
Again nothing. An old rotted maple stood near one spot Matlock estimated
was thirty steps. There was nothing else unusual. He went back to the bent
branches and proceeded to his second mark.
Thirty yards straight out. Ninety feet, give or take a foot or two. Then
the slow process of thirty yards through the soaldug wet foliage to his
next mark. Another ninety feet. Altogether, one hundred and eighty feet
Nearly two-thirds of a football field.
The going was slower now, the foliage thicker, or so it sftme& Matlock
wished he had a machete or at least some kind of implement to force the wet
branches out of his way. once he lost count and had to keep in mind the
variation as he proceeded-was It twenty-one or twenty three large steps?
Did it ma. ter? Would the difference of three to six feet really matter?
He reached the spot. It was either twenty-eight or thirty. Close enough if
there was anything to be seen. He pointed the flashlight to the ground and
began
3io Robert LucUum
slowly moving it back and forth laterally.
Nothing. Only the sight of a thousand glistentag weeds and the deep-brown
color of soaked earth. He kept swmgIng the beam of light, inching forward
as he did so, straining his eyes, wondering every other second if he had
just covered that particular section or not-everything looked so alike.
The chances of failure grew. He could go back and begin again, he thought.
Perhaps the 3os connoted some other form of measurement. Meters, perhaps,
or multiples of another number buried somewhere in the diagram The dots?
Shou)d he count the dots on the bottom and top of the rectangle? Why were
the dots there?
He had covered the six-foot variation and several feet beyond.
Nothing.
His mind returned to the dots, and he withdrew the photograph from his
inside pocket. As he positioned himself to stand up straight, to stretch
the muscles at the base of his spine-pained by crouchIng–Us foot touched
a hard, unyie7lding surface. At first he thought it was a fallen limb, or