screens, send out radio signals, and trigger bombs.”
‘You~re right It does all those things and more. les got secret
compartments for sandwiches, laundry, and God knows what else.” Loring
swung the briefcase off the desk. “I think Wd be a good idea if we left
separately. Preferably one from the front, one from the rear. Ten minutes
apart.
“You think that’s necessary?”
‘Frankly, no, but thafs the way my superiors want it”
“O.K. I know the house. I’ll leave ten minutes after you do, from the
kitchen.”
“Fine.” Loring extended his right hand by steady~-ing the bottom of his
case with his left. “I don’t have to tell you how much we appreciate what
you~re doing.0
“I think you know why Im doing it.-
“Yes, we do. Frankly, we counted on it.”
Loring let himself out of the library and Matlock waited until he heard the
outer door open and close. He looked at his watch. He’d have one more drink
before he left.
By one twenty Matlock was several blocks away from the house. He walked
slowly west toward his apartment, debating whether to detour around the
campus. It often helped him to walk out a problem; he knew sleep would come
fitfully. He passed a number of students and several faculty members,
exchanging low-keyed, end of the weekend greetings with
48 Robert Ludlum
those he recognized. Wd about made up his mind to tum north on High Street~
away from the direction of his apartment, when he heard the footsteps behind
him. Fwt the footsteps, then the harshly whispered voice.
“MatlockI DonI turn around. It’s Loring. just keep walking and listen to me
“What is it?”
OSomeone knows rm here. My car was searched…
‘Ch&fl How do you Imow?”
OField threads, preset markings. All over the car. F~ont, back, trunIL A
very thorough, very professional job.-
“‘You’re sure?’
‘So goddamn sure rm not going to start that enginel”
“Jesust” Matlock nearly stoppect
‘%eep walkingl If anyone was watching me-and YOU can be damned sure someone
was-I made it clear rd lost my ignition key. Asked several people who
passed by where a pay phone was and waited till I saw you far enough aw*”
what do you want me to do? Theres a phone booth on the next comer …. *
&I know I doet think youll have to do anything, and for both our sakes, I
hope rm right rm going to josde you as I pass-pretty hard. Lose your
balance, III shout my apologies. Pretend you twisted an ankle, a wdst,
anything you like; but buy tinw/ Keep me in sight until a car comes for me
and I nod that it’s o.k. Do you have all that? rU get to the booth in a
hurry.0
“Suppose you!re still phoning when I get there?”
Meep walking but keep checking The caes cruising.7
Whaes the point?- TBE MATLOCK PAMM 49
‘This briefcase. Thaes the point. Ther6s only one thing Nimrod-if it is
Nimrod-would like more than this briefcase. And thafs the paper in your
coat pockeL So be carefull”
Without warning, he rushed up beside Matlock and pushed him off the
sidewalk
‘Sorry, fellal rin in an awful hurryl”
Matlock looked up from the grourd, reflecting that hed had no reason to
pretend to fall. The force of Loring’s push eliminated that necessity. He
swore and rose awkwardly. Once on his feet, he limped slowly toward the
phone booth several hundred yards away. He wasted nearly a minute lighting
a cigarette. LorIng was inside the booth now, sitting on. the plastic seat,
hunched over the phone
Any second, Matlock expected Loring’s car to drive up the sbreet.
Yet none came.
Instead, there was the tiniest break in the spring noises. A rush of air
through the new leaves. Or was it the crush of a stone beneath a foot, or
a small twig unable to take the weight of the new growth in the trees? Or
was it Matlocles imagination? He coulddt be sure.
He approached the booth and remembered Loring’s orders. Walk by and pay no
attention. Loring was still huddled over the phone, his briefcase resting
on the floor, its chain visible. But Matlock could hear no conversation,
could see no movement from the man within. Instead, again, there was a
sound: now, the sound of a dial tone.
Despite his instructions, Matlock approached the booth and opened the door.
There was nothing else he could do. The government man had not even begun
his call.
5o Robert Ludlum
And in an instant, he understood why.
Loring had fallen into the gleammg gray metal of the telephone. He was
dead. His eyes wide, blood trickling out of his forehead. A small circular
hole no larger than a shirt button, surrounded by a spray of cracked glass,
was wnple evidence of what had hap. pened.
Matlock stared at the man who had briefed him for hours and left him
minutes ago. The dead man who had flmnked him, joked with him, then finally
warned him. He was petrified, unsure of what he should do, could do.
He backed away from the booth toward the steps of the nearest house. Instin
told him to stay away but not to rtm away. Someone was out there in the
street. Someone with a rifle.
When the words came, he realized they were his, but he didn’t know when hed
decided to shout them. They just emerged involuntarily.
“Help … HeIpI There’s a man out herel He!s been Shod”
Matlock raced up the steps of the comer house and began pounding on the
door with all his strength. Several fights went on in several different
homes. Matlock continued shouting.
“For Go&s sake, someone call the policel There’s a dead nwn out herel”
Suddenly, from the shadows underneath the full trees in the middle of the
block, Matlock heard the roar of an automobile engine, then the sound of
swerving tires as the vehicle pulled out into the n-dddle of the street and
started forward. He rushed to the edge of the porch. The long black
automobile plunged out of the darkness and sped to the comer. Matlock
TM MATWCK P”ER 51
tried to see the license plates and, realizing that was impossible, took a
step down to identify the make of the car. Suddenly he was blinded. The beam
of a searchlight pierced the dimly lit spring night and focused itself on
him. He pulled his hands up to shield his eyes and then heard the quiet
slap, the instant rush of air he had heard minutes ago.
A rifle was being fired at him. A rifle with a silencer.
He dove off the porch into the shrubbery. The black car sped away.
5
He waited alone. The room was small, the window glass meshed with wire. The
Carlyle Police Station was filled with officers and plainclothesmen called
back on duty; no one could be sure what the killing signified. And none
discounted the possibility that others might follow.
Alert. It’was the particular syndrome of midcentury America, thought
Matlock.
The gun.
He’d had the presence of mind after reaching the police to call Sam
Kressel. Kressel, in shock, told him he would somehow contact the
appropriate men in Washington and then drive down to the station house.
Until further instructions, they both agreed Matlock would restrict himself
to a simple statement on finding the body and seeing the automobile. He had
been out for a late night walk that was aIL
Nothing more.
His statement was typed out; questions as to time, his reasons for being in
the vicinity, descriptions of the “alleged perpetratoes vehicle,”
direction, estimated speed-all were asked routinely and accepted without
comment.
Matlock was bothered by his unequivocal negative to one question.
THE MATLOM PAPER 53
“Did you ever see the deceased before?’
“No.
That hurt. Loring deserved more than a considered, deliberate lie. Matlock
recalled that the agent said he had a seven-year-old daughter. A wife and
a child; the husband and father killed and be could not admit be knew his
name.
He wasn~t sure why it bothered him, but it did. Perhaps, he thought,
because he knew it was ihe beginning of a great many hes.
He signed the short deposition and was about to be released when he heard
a telephone ring inside an office beyond the desk. Not on the desk beyond
it. Seconds later, a uniformed policeman emerged and said his name in a
loud voice, as if to make sure he had not left the building.
Yes, officer?”
‘We’ll have to ask you to wait. If you’ll follow me~ please.”
Matlock had been in the small room for nearly an hour; it was 2:45 A.m. and
he had run out of cigarettes. It was no time to run out of cigarettes.
The door opened and a tall, thin man with large, serious eyes walked in. He
was carrying Loring’s briefcase. “Sorry to detain you, Dr. Matlock. It is
‘Doctor,, iset itr