at the Cape. Perhaps, thought Matlock, as he drew up in front of Pat’s
apartment the roots of his irritation were in his own guilt. He’d never
quite made peace with himself about David. He never would.
And he didn’t want to be in Scarsdale during the midterm holidays. Ile
didet want the memories. He had someone now who was helping him forget the
awful years–of death, no love, and indecision. Hied promised to take Pat
to St. Thomas.
The name of the country inn was the Cheshire Cat, and, as its title
implied, it was Englishy and pubbish. The food was decent, the drinks
generous, and those factors made it a favorite spot of Connecticut!s exur-
bia. They’d finished their second Bloody Mary and had ordered roast beef
and Yorkshire pudding. There were perhaps a dozen couples and several
families in the spacious dining area. In the comer sat a single man reading
The New York Tinws with the pages folded vertically, commuter fashion.
‘Hes probably an irate father waiting for a son whes about to splash out.
I know the type. They take the Scarsdale train every mornin&”
“He’s too relaxed.”
‘They learn to hide tension. Only their druggists ‘know. All that GelusiL”
’01bere are always signs, and he haset any. He looks positively
self-satisfied. You~re wrong.”
‘You just don!t know Scarsdale. Self-satisfaction is a
3L8 Robert Ludlum
registered trademark. You cant buy a house without it”
‘Speaking of such things, what are you going to do? I really think we
should cancel St Thomas.”
“I doet Ies been a rough winter, we deserve a little sun. Anyway, theyre
being unreasonable. Therels nothing I want to learn about the Matlock
manipulations; Ws a waste of time. In the unlikely event that they ever do
go, others’ll be in charge.”
“I thought we agreed that was only an excuse. They want you around for a
while. I think it’s touching they do it this way.”
“Ies not touching, ies my fathees transparent attempt at bribery. . . .
Look. Our commuter~s given up.” The single man with the newspaper finished
his drink and was explaining to the waitress that he waset ordering lunch.
“Five’ll get you ten he pictured his son’s hair and leather jacket-maybe
bare feetand just panicked.”
‘I think you~re wishing it on the poor mae
“No, I’m not. I’m too sympathetic. I can’t stand the aggravation that goes
with rebellion. Makes me selfconscious.”
“You’re a very funny man, Private Matlock,” said Pat, alluding to Matlock’s
inglorious army career. “When we finish, lees go down to Hartford. There’s
a good movie.”
“Oh, rm sorry, I forgot to tell you. We can’t today. … Sealfont called me
this morning for an early evening conference. Said it was important.”
“About what?”
“I’m not sure. The African studies may be in trouble. That ‘rom’ I
recruited from Howard turned out to be a beaut. I think Vs a little to the
right of Louis XIV.”
TBE MAnA>CK PAPER 19
She smiled. “Really, you’re terrible
Matlock took her hand.
The residence of Dr. Adrian Sealfont was imposingly appropriate. It was a
large white colonial mansion with wide marble steps leading up to thick
double doors carved in relief. Along the front were Ionic pillars spanning
the width of the building. Floodlights from the lawn were turned on at
sundown.
Matlock walked up the stairs to the door and rang the bell. Thirty seconds
later he was admitted by a maid, who ushered him through the hallway toward
the rear of the house, into Dr. Sealfonfs huge library.
Adrian SeaIfont stood in the center of the room with two other men.
Matlock, as always, was struck by the presence of the man. A shade over six
feet, thin, with aquiline features, he radiated a warmth that touched all
who were near him. There was about him a genuine humility which concealed
his brilliance from those who did not know him. Matlock liked him
immensely.
“Hello, James.” Sealfont extended his hand to Matlock. “Mr. Loring, may I
present Dr. Matlock?”
“How do you do? Hi, Sam.” Matlock addressed this last to the third man,
Samuel Kressel, dean of colleges at Carlyle.
Hello, Jim.-
‘We’ve met before, haven’t we?” asked Matlock, looking at Loring. “I’m
trying to remember.”
“Irm going to be very embarrassed if you do.”
`11 bet you willl” laughed Kressel with his sardonic., slightly offensive
humor. Matlock also liked Sam Kressel, more because he knew the pain of
Kressers job-what he had to contend with-than for the mign himself.
2o Robert Ludlum
‘What do you mean, Sam?”
“III answer you,” interrupted Adrian Sealfont. ‘Mr. Loring is with the
federal government, the justice Department. I agreed to arrange a meeting
between the three of you, but I did not agree to what Sam and Mr. Loring
have just referred to. Apparently Mr. LorIng has seen fit to have you-what
is the term-under surveillance. Ive registered my strong objections.”
Sealfont looked directly at Loring.
“YotNe had me what?” asked Matlock quietly.
“I apologize,” said Loring persuasively. “Ies a personal idiosyncrasy and
has nothing to do with our business.”
‘You~re the commuter in the Cheshire Cat.-
“Ibe what?” asked Sam Kressel.
‘Me man with the newspaper.”
“Thaes right. I knew yotfd noticed me this afternoon. I thought you’d
recognize me the minute you saw me again. I didn’t know I looked like a
commuter.”
“It was the newspaper. We called you an irate father.*
“Sometimes I am. Not often, though. My daughtees only seven.”
“I think we should begin,” Sealfont said. “Incidentally, James, I’m
relieved your reaction is so understanding.”
“My only reaction is curiosity. And a healthy degree of fear. To tell you
the truth, Im scared to death.” Matlock smiled haltingly. “What!s it all
about?’
‘Lees have a drink while we talk.’ Adrian Sealfont smiled back and walked
to his copper-topped dry bar in the comer of the room. ‘-fou~re a bourbon
and water man, aren1 you, James? And Sam, a double Scotch over ice,
correct? Whats yours, Mr. Loring?`
THE JUTLOCK PAPER 21
‘Scotch’Il be fine. just water.”
OHere, James, give me a hand.” Matlock crossed to Sealfont and helped him.
‘You amaze me, Adrian, . said Kressel, sitting down in a leather armchair.
“What in heaven~s name prompts you to remember your subordinates’ choice of
liquor?-
Seaffont laughed. ‘Me most logical reason of all. And it certainly iset
confined to my … colleagues. I’ve raised more money for this institution
with alcohol than with hundreds of reports prepared by the best analytic
minds in fund-raising circles.” Here Adrian Sealfont paused and chuckled-as
much to himself as to those in the room. “I once gave a speech to the
Organization of University Presidents. In the question and answer period,
I was asked to what I attributed Carlyle’s endowment. . . . I’m afraid I
replied, To those ancient peoples who developed the art of fermenting the
vineyards.’ . . . My late wife roared but told me later I’d set the fund
back a decade.”
The three men laughed; Matlock distributed the drinks.
“Your health,” said the president of Carlyle, raising his glass modestly.
The toast, however, was brief. ’11is is a bit awkward, James … Sam.
Several weeks ago I was contacted by Mr. Loring’s superior. He asked me to
come to Washington on a matter of utmost importance, relative to Carlyle.
I did so and was briefed on a situation I still refuse to accept. Certain
information which Mr. Loring will impart to you seems incontrovertible on
the surface. But that is the surface: rumor; out-of-context statements,
written and verbal; constructed evidence which may be meaningless. On the
other hand, there might well be a degree of substance. It is on that
possibility that Ive agreed
22 Robert Ludlum
to this meeting. I must make it clear, however, that I cannot be a party to
it. Carlyle wiU not be a party to it Whatever may take place in this room
has my unacknowledged approval but not my official sanction. You act as
individuals, not as members of the faculty or staff of Carlyle. If, indeed,
you decide to act at all. … Now, James, if that doesn’t ‘scare you,’ I
don1 know what will.” Sealfont smiled again, but his message was clear.
“It scares me, . said Matlock without emphasis.
Kxessel put down his glass and leaned forward on the chair. “Are we to
assume from what you’ve said that you don’t endorse Loring~s presence here?
Or whatever it is he wants?”
“It’s a gray area. If there’s substance to his charges, I certainly cannot
turn my back. On the other hand, no university president these days will
openly collaborate with a government agency on speculation. Youll forgive
me, Mr. Loring, but too many people in Washington have taken advantage of
the academic communities. I refer specifically to Michigan, Columbia,
Berkeley … among others. Simple police matters are one thing,
infiltration … well, that’s something else again.”
“Infiltration? That’s a pretty strong word,” said Matlock.