THE MATLOCK PAPER BY
ROBERT LUDLUM
Other books by the Author:
THE SCARLATTI INHERITANCE
THE OSTERMAN WEEKEND
*THE RHINEMANN EXCHANGE
*THE GEMINI CONTENDERS
THE CHANCELLOR MANUSCRIPT
THE HOLCROFT COVENANT
THE MATARESE CIRCLE
THE BOURNE IDENTITY
THE PARSIFAL MOSAIC
THE ROAD TO GANDOLFO
THE AQUITAINE PRGRESSION
THE BOURNE SUPREMACY
1
Loring walked out the side entrance of the justice Department and looked for
a taxi. It was nearly five thirty~ a spring Friday, and the congestion in
the Washington streets was awful. Loring stood by the curb and held up his
left hand, hoping for the best. He was about to abandon the effort when a
cab that had picked up a fare thirty feet down the block stopped in front of
him.
Going east, mister? It’s O.K. This gentleman said he wouldiYt mind.”
Loring was always embarrassed when these incidents occurred. He
unconsciously drew back his right forearm, allowing his sleeve to cover as
much of his hand as possible-to conceal the thin black chain looped around
his wrist, locked to the briefcase handle.
“rhanks, anyway. rm heading south at the next comer.”
He waited until the taxi reentered the flow of traffic and then resumed his
futile signaling.
Usually, under such conditions, his mind was alert, his feelings
competitive. He would normally dart his eyes in both directions, ferreting
out cabs about to disgorge passengers, watching the comers for those dimly
lit roof signs that meant this particular vehicle was for hire if you ran
fast enough.
6 Robert Lud7um
Today, however, Ralph Loring did not feel like running. On this particular
Friday, his mind was obsessed with a terrible reality. He had just borne
witness to a man’s being sentenced to death. A man be!d never met but knew
a great deal about An unknowing man of thirty-three who lived and worked in
a small New England town four hundred miles away and who had no idea of
Loring’s existence, much less of the justice Department’s interest in him.
Lorines memory kept returning to the large conference room with the huge
rectangular table around which sat the men who’d pronounced the sentence.
He had objected strenuously. It was the least he could do for the man he’d
never met, the man who was being maneuvered with such precision into such
an untenable position.
“May I remind you, Mr. Lorin&” said an assistant attorney general who’d
once been a judge advocate in the navy, “that in any combat situation basic
risks are assumed. A percentage of casualties is anticipate&”
“The circumstances are different. This man isn7t trained. He won’t know who
or where the enemy is. How could he? We doet know ourselves.”
“Just the point.” The speaker then had been another assistant AG, this one
a recruit from some corporation law office, fond of committee meetings,
and, Loring suspected, incapable of decisions without them. “Our subject is
highly mobile. Look at the psychological profile, ‘flawed but mobile in the
extreme: That’s exactly what it says. He’s a logical choice.”
“‘Flawed but mobile’l What in heaven’s name does that mean? May I remind
this committee that I’ve worked in the field for fifteen years.
Psychological profiles are only screening guidelines, hit-and-miss judg-
ments. I would no more send a man into an infiltra-
THE MATLOCK PAPER 7
tion problem without knowing him thoroughly than I would assume the
responsibility for NASA mathematics.’
The chairman of the committee, a career profession4 had answered Loring.
“I understand your reservations; normally, rd agree. However, these areet
normal conditions. We have barely three weeks. The time factor overrides
the usual precautions.”
“It’s the risk we have to assume,” said the former judge advocate
pontifically.
‘You’re not assuming it,’ Loring replied.
‘Do you wish to be relieved of the contact?’ The chairman made the offer in
complete sincerity.
“No, sir. III make it. Reluctantly. I want that on the record.’
“One thing before we adjourn.” The corporation lawyer leaned forward on the
table. “And this comes right from the top. We’ve all agreed that our
subject is motivated. The profile makes that clear. What must also be made
clear is that any assistance given this comn-Attee by the subject is given
freely and on a voluntary basis. We!re vulnerable here. We cannot, repeat
cannot, be responsible. If ies possible, wed like the record to indicate
that the subject came to us.”
Ralph Loring had tamed away from the man in disgust.
If anything, the traffic was heavier now. Loring had about made up his mind
to start walking the twentyodd blocks to his apartment when a white Volvo
pulled up in front of him.
“Get inI You look silly with your hand up like that.”
“Oh, it’s you. Thanks very much.” Loring opened the door and slid into the
small front seat, holding his briefcase on his lap. There was no need to
hide the
8 Robert Ludium
thin black chain around his wrist Cranston was a field man, too; an overseas
route specialist. Cranston had done most of the background work on the
assignment which was now Loring’s responsibility.
“That was a long meeting. Accomplish anything?”
“Ibe green lighe
“Ies about time.”
‘Two assistant AGs and a concerned message from the White House were
responsible.”
“Good. Geo division got the latest reports from Force-Mediterranean this
morning. It’s a regular mass conversion of source routes. Ies confinned.
The fields in Ankara and Konya in the north, the projects in Sidi Barrani
and Rashid, even the Algerian contingents are systematically cutting
production. It!s going to make things very difficult”
“What the hell do you want? I thought the objective was to rip them out You
people are never satisfied.”
“Neither would you be. We can exert controls over routes we know about;
what in Gods name do we know about places like. . . Porto Belocruz,
Pilcomayo, a half dozen unpronounceable nsmes in Paraguay, Brazil, Guiana?
It’s a whole goddamn new ballgame, Ralph.-
“Bring in the SA specialists. CIAs crawling with them.”
“No way. W6re not even allowed to ask for maps~’
‘.rhat!s asinine.”
“That!s espionage. We stay clean. We’re strictly according to
Interpol-Hoyle; no funny business. I thought you knew that.”
“I do’ ” replied Uring wearily. “It’s still asinine.”
‘You worry about New England, USA. We’ll handle the pampas, or whatever
they are.-it is.”
TBE MATIAXX PAPER 9
‘New England, USA, is a goddamn microcosm. Tbaes what’s frightening. What
happened to all those poetic descriptions of rustic fences and Yankee
spirit and ivied brick walls?”
“New poetry. Get with it.”
‘Your sympathy is overwhelming. Thanks.”
‘You sound discouraged.”
“There isnI enough time. . .
‘Mere never is.” Cranston steered the small car into a faster lane only to
find it bottlenecked at Nebraska and Eighteenth. With a sigh, he shoved the
gearshift into neutral and shrugged his shoulders. He looked at Lorin& who
was staring blankly at the windshield. “At least you got the green light.
Thaes something.’
‘Sure. With the wrong personnel.”
“Oh … I see. Is that him?” Cranston gestured his head toward Loring’s
briefcase.
“That’s him. From the day he was bom*
“What’s his name?”
“Matlock James B. Matlock II. The B is for Barbour, very old family-two
very old families. James Matlock, B.A., M.A., Ph.D. A leading authority in
the field of social and political influences on Elizabethan literature. How
about that?”
“Jesusl Are those his qualifications? Where does he start asking questions?
At faculty teas for retired professorsr
“No. That part of ies all right; he’s young enough. His qualifications are
included in what Security calls ‘flawed but mobile in the extreme.’ Isn’t
that a lovely phrase?”
‘Inspiring. What does it mean?”
“Ies supposed to describe a man who isn’t very nice. Probably because of a
loused-up, army record, or a
io Robert Ludlum
divorce-rm sure ies the army thing-but In spite of that insurmountable
handicap, is very well liked.”
I like him already~-
“Maes my problem. I do, too.*
The two men fell into silence. It was clear that Cianston had been in the
field long enough to realize when a fellow professional had to think by
himself. Reach certain conclusions–or rational=tions-by himself. Most of
the time, it was easy.
Mph Loring thought about the man whose life was detailed so completely in
his briefcase, culled from a score of data-bank sources. James Barbour
Matlock was the name, but the person behind the name refused to oome into
focus. And that bothered Loring; Matlock’s life had been shaped by
disturbing, even violent, Inoonsistencies.
He was the surviving son of two elderly, Immensely wealthy parents who
lived in handsome retirement in Scarsdale, New York. His education had been
properly Eastern Establishment: Andover and Amherst, with the proper
expectations of a Manhattan-based profession–banking, brokerage,
advertising. There was nothing in his precollege or undergraduate record to
indicate a deviation from this pattern. Indeed, marriage to a socially
prominent girl from Greenwich seemed to confirm it
And then things happened to James Barbour Matlock, and Loring wished he
understood. First came the army.