turned off, passed hmrA, or fell behind, this tan sedan was never really
out of sight Weaving. in and around the traffic, it always managed to stay
three or four cars behind him. There was one way to find out if it was
coincidence. Off the next exit into West Hartford was a narrow street which
waset a street at all but a cobblestone alley used almost exclusively for
deliveries. He and Pat thought
TnE mATLocx PAPER 185
it was a shortcut one hectic afternoon and had been hemmed in for five
minutes.
He swung off the exit and down the main street toward the alley. He made a
sharp left and entered the narrow cobblestone lane. Since it was Saturday
afternoon, there were no delivery trucks, and the alley was clear. He raced
through, emerging in a crowded A & P parking lot, which in turn led. to a
parallel main road. Matlock drove to an empty parking space, shut off his
motor, and lowered himself on the seat He angled his side-view iniffor so
that it reflected the entrance of the alley. In roughly thirty seconds, the
tan sedan came into view.
The driver was obviously confused. He slowed down, looking at the dozens of
automobiles. Suddenly, behind the tan sedan, another car began blowing its
horn. The driver was impatient, the tan sedan was blocking his progress.
Reluctantly, the driver of the tan sedan started up; but before he did, he
turned his face, craning his neck over his right shoulder in such a way
that Matlock, now looking directly at the automobile, recognized him.
It was the patrolman. The police officer who’d been in his demolished
apartment after the Beeson episode, the man who had covered his face with
a towel and ramd down the corridor of squash alley two days ago.
Greenberg7s “coincidence.’
Matlock was perplexed. He was also frightened.
The patrolman in mufti drove the tan sedan haltingly toward a parking lot
exit, still obviously searching. Matlock saw the car turn into the flow of
traffic and drive away.
The offices of Blackstone Security, Incorporated, Bond Street, Hartford,
looked more like a wealthy,
M Robert Ludlum
sedate insurance company than an Investigatory agency. The furniture was
heavy colonial, the wallpaper a subdued, masculine stripe. Expensive hunting
prints above the glow of brass table ]amps. The effect was immediately one
of strength, virility, and financial solidity. Why not? thought Matlock, as
he sat in the Early American two-seater in the outer office. At three
hundred dollars a day, Blackstone Security, Incorporated, probably rivaled
Prudential in ratio of investment to profits.
When he was at last ushered into the office, Michael Blackstone rose from
his chair and walked around the cherrywood desk to greet him. Blackstone
was a short, compact man, neatly dressed. He was in his early fifties,
obviously a physical person, very active, probably very tough.
‘r,ood afternoon,” he said. “I hope you didn1 drive down here just for the
papers. They could have waited. just because we work seven days a week,
doesift mean we expect the rest of the world to do so~’
“I bad to be in Hartford, anyway. No problere
“Sit down, sit down. Can I offer you anything? A drink? Coffee?”
“No thanks.” Matlock sat in a huge black leather chair, the kind of chair
usually found in the oldest, most venerated men~s clubs. Blackstone
returned to his desk. -Actually, I’m in somewhat of a hurry. I’d like to
sign our agreement, pay you, and leave.”
‘Certainly. The Me’s right here.” Blackstone picked up a folder on his desk
and smiled. “As I mentioned on the phone, there are questions wed like
answered, of course. Beyond what you’ve instructed us to do. It would help
us carry out your orders. Take just a few minutes.0
TIM MATLOCK PAPER 287
Matlock aqxcted the request. It was part of his plan, why he wanted tc) see
Blackstone. His assumption–once Blackstone entered the picture-was that
Blackstone might be able to offer him shortcuts. Perhaps not willingly, but
if it was a question of ‘an additional charge~” . . . It was for this
reason that he had to meet Blackstone face to face. If Blackstone could be
bought, a great deal of time could be saved.
“I’ll answer what I can. As I’m sure you!ve checked out, the girl was
beaten severely.”
“We know that. What puzzles us is the reluctance of anyone to say why. No
ones given that sort of beating for kicks. Oh, ies possible, but that kind
of case is generally handled quickly and efficiently by the police. Theres
no need for us. . . . Obviously you have information the police dodt have.”
“Thaes true. I do.”
‘May I ask why you haven’t given it to them? Why you hired us? . . . The
local police will gladly furnish protection if there’s sufficient cause,
and far less expensively.”
“You sound like youre turnmg away business
‘We often do.” Blackstone smiled. “It’s never done happily, I can tell you
that.”
“Then why…”
‘You’re a highly recommended client~” interrupted Blackstone, “the son of
a very prominent man. We want you to know your alternatives. Thafs our rea-
soning. Whaes yours?”
“Yoere plainspoken. I appreciate it. I assume what yoxere saying is that
you don7t want your reputation tarnished.”
‘rhat!s good enough~*
‘Good. Thaes my reasoning, too. Only ies not ffW reputation. les the girrs.
Miss Ballantynes…. The
188 Robert Ludlum
simplest way to put it is that she showed bad judgment in her choice of
friends. Shes a brilliant girl with an exciting future, but unfortunately
that intelligence didn!t carry over into other areas. . Matlock purposely
stopped and took out a pack of cigarettes. Unhurriedly, he removed one and
lit it. The Pause had its effect. Blackstone spoke.
“Did she profit financially from these associations?*
“Not at all. As I see it, she was used. But I can un
derstand why you asked. Theres a lot of money to be
made on campuses these days, isn~t there?’
v our field.7
muldn7t know. Campuses aren’t
Blackstone smiled again, and Matlock knew he was
lying. Professionally, of course.
“I guess not.”
OAR right, Mr. Matlock. Why was she beaten? And what do you intend to do
about it?”
an’s my opinion she was beaten to frighten her from revealing information
she doesi* have. I intend to find the parties involved and tell them
that. Tell them to leave her alone.”
-And if you go to the police, her associations-past &%ociations, I
assume-become a matter of record and jeopardize this brilliant future of
hers.”
“Exactly~”
,rhat’s a tight story… Who are these parties involved?”
“I donI know them by name. . . . However, I know their occupations. The
main line of work seems to be gambling. I thought you might be able to
help me here. Naturally, I would expect an additional charge for the
service.”
-1 see.” Blackstone got up and walked around his chair. For no particular
reason, he fingered the dials
Tim mATLom PAPzR 3L89
on his inoperative air conditioner. “I think you presume too much.”
“I woulddt expect names. I’d like them, of course, and I’d pay well for
them…. But Id settle for locations. I can find them myself, and you know
I cam Ybied be saving me time, though.-
I gather yodre interested in … private clubs. Pri. vate social
organizations where members may meet to pursue activities of their choice.”
Outside the eye of the law. Where private citizens can follow their
perfectly natural inclinations to place bets. Thats where I’d like to
start.”
“Could I dissuade you? Is it possible I could convince you to go to the
police, instead?”
“No.”
Blackstone walked to a Me cabinet on the left walL took out a key, and
opened it “As I said, a tight story. Very plausible. And I don’t believe a
word of it … However, you seem determined, that concerns me.” He took a
thin metal case from the file cabinet and carried it back to the desk.
Selecting another key from his chain, he unlocked it and withdrew a single
sheet of paper. “Mere’s a Xerox machine over there,7 he said, pointing to
a large gray copier in the corner. “To use it one places a page face down
under the metal flap and dials the required duplicates. Records are kept of
the numbers automatically. Theres rarely a reason for more than one…. If
you1l excuse me for approximately two minutes, Mr. Matlock, I must make a
Phone call in another office.”
Blackstone held up the single sheet of paper, then placed it face down on
top of Matlock’s file folder. He stood erect, and, with the fingers of both
hands, tugged at the base of his jacket in the manner of a
i9o Robert Ludlum
man used to displaying expensive suits. He smiled and walked around his desk
toward the office door. He opened it and turned bac1L
“It may be what you~re looking for, and then again, it may not I wouldn1