unconscious busboy with the bloodied, immobile right arm.
“I don’t hear anything Wheres Sharpe?’
‘He just went inside. That door. He had a gun.7
The two men walked carefully to the side entrance of the Inn. Matlock
slowly opened the door and preceded Holden into the foyer. Furniture was
overtamed, chairs and tables on their sides; blood was glistening on the
wooden floor.
‘Sharpe? Where are you?’ Matlock raised his voice cautiously It was several
seconds before the reply came. When it did, Sharpe could hardly be heard.
“In here. In the dining room.”
Matlock and Holden walked through the oakframed arch. Nothing in either man
s life had prepared him for what he saw.
The overpowering horror was the sight of the bodies literally covered with
blood. What was left of Rocco Aiello was sprawled across the red-soaked
tablecloth, most of his face blown off. Sbarpe~s partner, the unintroduced
man named Frank was on his knees, his torso twisted back over the seat of
a chair, blood fiow6 ing out of his neck, his eyes wide open in death. Ja-
copo Bartolozzi was on the floor, his obese body arched around the leg of
a table, the front of his shirt ripped up to the collaj4 revealing his
bulging stomach,
222 Robert Ludlum
the flesh pierced with a score of bullet holes, blood still trickling out
over the coarse black hair. Bartolozzi had tried to tear his shirt away from
his battered chest, and a portion of cloth was clutched in his dead hand.
The fourth man lay behind Bartoloz4 his head resting on BartoIozzfs right
foot, his arms and legs extended in a spread-eagle pattern, his entire back
covered with a thick layer of blood, portions of his intestines pushed
through the skin.
‘Oh, my Godl” muttered Matlock, not fully believing what he saw. John
Holden looked as though he might become sick. Sharpe spoke softly, rapidly,
wearily-
“You’d better go. You and your English friend better leave quickly.”
“Youll have to call the police,” said Matlock, bewildered.
“There’s a man outside, a boy. H6 still alive.” Holden stuttered as he
spoke.
Sharpe looked over at the two men, the revolver at his side, his eyes
betraying only the slightest degree of suspicion. I have no doubt the lines
have been cut The nearest houses are farms at least half a mile from
here…. I’ll take care of everything. You’d better get out of here.”
“Do you think we should?” asked Holden, looking at Matlock
Sharpe replied. “Listen, Englishman, personally I couldet care less what
either of you do. rve got enough to think about, enough to figure out . .
. For your own good, get out of here. Less complications, less risk. lsn~t
that right?-
‘Yes, yoere right,” Matlock said.
“In case you’re picked up, you left here a half hour ago. You were friends
of Bartolozz4 thae&all I know.’
TBE MATLOCK PAPER 223
‘All right-
Sharpe had to tam away from the sight of the murdered men. Matlock thought
for a moment that the Windsor Shoals attorney was going to weep. Instead,
he took a deep breath and spoke again.
‘A trained legal mind, ML Matlock. rm valuable. You tell them that”
“I will.”
‘You also tell them I need protection, deserve protection. You tell them
that, too.”
‘Of course.”
‘Now, get out.” Suddenly Sharpe threw his revolver on the floor in disgust.
And then he screamed, as the tears came to his eyes, “Get out for Christs
sakel Get
01dr
22
Matlock and Holden agreed to separate immediately. The English professor
dropped off the mathematician at his apart3nent and then headed south to
Fairfield. He wanted to register at a highway motel far enough away from
Windsor Shoals to feel less panicked, yet near enough to Hartford so he
could get to Blackstone’s by two in the afternoon.
He was too exhausted, too frightened to think He found a third-rate motel
just west of Stratford and surprised the early morning clerk by being
alone.
During the registration, he mumbled unpleasant criticisms about a
suspicious wife in Westport, and with a ten-dollar bill convinced the clerk
to enter his arrival at2:00 A.M., single. He fell into bed by seven and
left a call for twelve thirty. If he slept for five hours, he thought,
things had to become clearer.
Matlock slept for five hours and twenty minutes and nothing much had
changed. Very little had cleared up for him. If anything, the massacre at
Windsor Shoals now appeared more extraordinary than ever. Was it possible
that he was meant to be a victim? Or were the killers waiting outside,
waiting silently for him to leave before committing their executions?
Mistake or warning?
By one fifteen he was on the Merritt Parkway. By
THE MATLOCK PAPER 225
one thirty he entered the Berlin Turnpike, taking the back roads into
Hartford. By five minutes past two he walked into Blackstone’s office.
“Look,” said Michael Blackstone, leaning over his desk, staring at Matlock,
“we ask a minimum of questions, but donI for one minute think that means we
give our clients blank checksl”
“It seems to me you like that process reversed.”
“Then take your money and go somewhere else. Well survivel”
“Just hold itl You were hired to protect a girL thaes all] Thafs what rm
paying, three hundred dollars a day fort Anything else is marginal, and rm
paying
for that, too, I expect.-
“There’ll be no extra charges. I donI know what you’re talking about.”
Suddenly Blackstone bent his elbows, crouching forward. He whispered
hoarsely. “Christ, Matlock? Two menI Two men on that gDddamn list were
murdered last nightl If you7re a hopped-up maniac, I doet want anything to
do with
youl Thats no part of any deal herel I don7t care who your old man is or how
much money you7ve goti”
“Now I doet know what you’re talking about Except what I read in the
papers. I was at a motel in Fairfield last night. I was registered there at
two this morning. According to the papers, those killings tOOk Place around
five.”
Blackstone pushed himself off the desk and stood up. He looked at Matlock
suspiciously. “You can verify that?”
.Do you want the name and number of the motel? Give me a phone book, Fll
get it for you.”
“Not … No. I doet want to know a thing. You were in Fairfield?”
Get the phone booIL- 2a6 Robert Ludlum
-All right. All right, forget it. I think you!re lying, but you’ve covered
yourself. As you say, were only hired to protect the girl.”
“Any change from Sunday afternoon? Is everything all right?-
“Yes. . . . Yes.” Blackstone seemed preoccupied. ‘rve got your
Tel-electronic. It’s operative. les an additional twenty dollars a day.”
“I see. Wholesale price.”
‘We never implied we were cheap.’
‘You couldn’t”
“We dodt.” Blackstone remained standing, pushed a button on his office
intercom, and spoke into it. “Bring in Mr. Matlocles Tel-electronic,
please.”
Seconds later an attractive girl came into the office carrying a metal
device no larger than a pack of cigarettes. She put it on Blackstone’s desk
and placed an index card beside it. She left as rapidly as she had entered.
“Here you are,” Blackstone said. “Your code is Charger Three-zero.
Meamng-Carlyle area, threeman team. The telephone number you call is five,
five, five, six, eight, six, eight. We keep a list of numbers on reserve
which we feel are easy to commit. The Telelectronic will signal you by
short beeps. You can shut it off by pushing this button here. When the
signal is emitted, you are to call the number. A recording machine on that
telephone will give you the message from the team. Often it will be to
phone another nUm to make direct contact. Do you understand everything?
It’s really very simple.”
“I understand,” said Matlock taking the small metal box. “What confuses me
is why you don’t just have the men call this office and then you contact
me.
THE MATLOCK PAPM 227
Outside of whatever profit there is, woulWt it be easier?”
“No. Too much room for error. We handle a great many clients. We want our
clients to be in direct contact with the men they’re paying for.”
“I see.”
“Also, we respect the privacy of our clients. We doet think ies such a good
idea for information to be transn-dtted through third and fourth parties.
Incidentally, you can reach the team by the same procedures. Each one has
a machine. just phone the number and record the message for the=”
“Commendable~”
“Prefessional.” And then Blackstone, for the Brst time since Matlock had
entered the office, sat in his chair and leaned back. “Now I’m going to
tell you something, and if you want to take it as a threat, you’d be
justified. Also, if you want to cancel our servim on the strength of what
I say, that’s OX, too. . . . We know that yotfre being actively sought by