perhaps a rock.
And then he knew it was neither.
He oDuldet see it-whatever it was, w underneath a clump of overgrown weeds.
But he could feel the outline of the object with his foot It was straight,
precisely tooled. It was no part of a forest.
He held the light over the cluster of weeds and saw that they weredt weeds.
They were some kind of small-budded flower in partial bloom. A flower which
did not need sunlight or space.
A jungle flower. Out of place, purchased, replanted.
TFIE X&TIAD(Z PAP= 311
He pushed them out of the way and bent down. Underneath was a thick,
heavily varnished slab of wood about two feet wide and perhaps a foot and
a half long. It had sunk an inch or two into the ground-, the surface had
been sanded and varnished so often that the layers of protective coating
reached a high gloss, reflecting the beam of the flashlight as though it
were glass.
Matlock dug his fingers into the earth and lifted up the slab. Beneath it
was a weathered metal plaque, bronze perhaps.
For Uafor Lucas N. Herron, USMCR
In Ciratitude from the Oficers and Men of
Bravo Company, Fourteenth Raider Battalion,
First Marine Division
Solomon islands-South Pacific
May 1943
Seeing it set in the ground under the glare of ligh4 Matlock had the
feeling he was looking at a grave.
He pushed away the surrounding mud and dug a tiny trench around the metal.
On his hands and knees, he slowly, awkwardly lifted the plaque up and
carefully placed it to one side.
He had found it
Buried in earth was a metal container-the type used in library archives for
valuable manuscripts. Airtight, weatherproofed, vacuumed, a receptacle for
the ages.
A coffin, Matlock thought
He picked it up and inserted his cold, wet fingers under the lever of the
coiled hasp. It took considerable strength to pull it up, but finally it
was released.
an Robert Ludlum
There was the rush of air one bears upon opening a tin of coffee. The
rubber edges parted. Inside Matlock could see an oilcloth packet in the
shape of a notebook.
He knew he’d found the mdictmenL
30
The notebook was thick, over three hundred pages, and every word was
handwritten in ink. It was in the form of a diary, but the lengthy entries
varied enormously. There was no consistency regarding dates. Often days
followed one another; at other times entries were separated by weeks, even
months. The writing also varied. There were stretches of lucid narrative
followed by incoherent, disjointed rambling. In the latter sections the hand
had shaken, the words were often illegible.
Lucas Herroes diary was a cry of anguish, an outpouring of pain. A
confessional of a man beyond hope.
As he sat on the cold wet ground, mesmerized by Herroes words, Matlock
understood the motives behind Herroes Nest, the forbidding green wall, the
window shades, the total isolation.
Lucas Herron had been a drug addict for a quarter of a century. Without the
drugs, his pain was unendurable. And there was absolutely nothing anyone
could do for him except confine him to a ward in a Veterans’ Hospital for
the remainder of his unnatural life.
It was the rejection of this living death that had plunged Lucas Herron
into another
314 Robed Ludguin
Major Lucas Nathaniel Herron, USMCR, attached to Amphibious Assault Troops,
Raider Battalions, Fleet Marine Force, Pacific, had led numerous compardes
of the Fourteenth Battalion, First Marine Division, in ranger assaults on
various islands throughout the Japanese-held Solomons and Carolinas.
And Major Lucas Herron had been carried off the tiny island of Peleliu in
the Carolinas on a stretcher, having brought two companies back to the
beach through jungle fire. None thought he could survive.
Major Lucas Herron had a Japanese bullet im. bedded at the base of his
neck, lodged in a section of his nervous system. He was not expected to
live. The doctors, first in Brisbane, then San Diego, and finally at
Bethesda, considered further operations unfeasible. The patient could not
survive them, he would be reduced to a vegetable should even the slightest
complication set in. No one wished to be re. sponsible for that.
They put the patient under heavy medication to relieve the discomfort of
his wounds. And he lay there in the Maryland hospital for over two years.
The stages of healing-partial recovery-were slow and painful. First, there
were the neck braces and the pills; then the braces and the metal frames
for walk. ing, and still the pills. At last the crutches, along with the
braces and always the pills. Lucas Herron came back to the land of the
living-but not without the pills. And In moments of torment-the needle of
mor. phine at night
There were hundreds, perhaps thousands, like Lucas Herron, but few had his
extraordinary qualifications-for those who sought him out An authentic hero
of the Pacific war, a brilliant scholar, a
above reproach.
THE MATLOCK PAPIM 315
He was perfecL He could be used perfectly.
On the one hand, he could not live, could not endure, without the relief
afforded him by the narcotics –the pills and the increasingly frequent
needles. On the other hand, if the degree of his dependence was known
medically, he would be returned to a hospital ward.
These alternatives were gradually subtly made clear to him Gradually in the
sense that his sources of supply needed favors now and then-a contact to be
made in Boston, men to be paid in New York. Subtly, in that when Herron
questioned the involvement, he was told it was really quite harmless. Harm-
less but necestary.
As the years went by, he became enormously valuable to the men he needed so
badly. The contact in Boston, the men to be paid in New York became more
and more frequent, more and more necessary. Then Lucas was sent farther and
farther afield. Whiter vacations, spring midterms, summers: Canada, Mexico,
France … the Mediterranean.
He became a courier.
And always the thought of the hospital ward on his tOrtured body and bram.
They had manipulated him brilliantly. He was never exposed to the results
of his work, never specifically aware of the growing network of destruction
he was helping to build. And when finally he learned Of it all, it was too
late. The network had been built.
Nimrod had his power
April 22, iq5z. At midterm they’re sending me back to Mexico. I’ll stop
at the U. of M—as usual-and on the way back at Baylor. A touch of
frony: the bursar here called me in, saymg Car-
33L6 Robert Ludlum
lyle would be pleased to help defray my Oresearce expenses. I declined, and
told him the disability allowance was sufficient Perhaps I should have
accepted…
jurse z3, z956. To Lisbon for three weeks. A routing map, rm told, for a
small ship. Touching the Azores, through Cuba (a messl), finally into
Panama. Stops-for me–at the Sorbonne, U. of Toledo, U. of Madrid. I’m
becoming an academic gamyi rm not happy about methodswho could be?-but
neither am I responsible for the archaic laws. So many, many can be
helped. They need helpl I’ve been in touch with scores on the
telephone-they put me in tDUCh-men like myself who couldn’t face another
clay without help…. Still, I worry…. Still, what can I do? Others
would do it, if not me – – –
February 24, z957. I’m alarmed but calm and reasonable (I hopel) about my
concerns. rm told now that when they send me to make contacts I am the
nsessenger from ONimrocrl The name is a code–a meaningless artifice,
they say –and will be honored. les all so foolish–like the intelligence
information we’d receive from MaoArthues HQ in So-Pac. They had all the
codes and none of the facts…. The pain is worse, the medics said it
would get worse. But … ONimro&e considerate… As I am….
March io, z957 They were angry with mel They withheld my dosage for two
days-1 thought I would kill myselfl I started out in my car for the VA
hospital in Hartford, but they stopped me on the highway. They were in a
Carlyle patrol c4r-I should have known they had the police herel . . . It
was either comprondse or
TM MATLOCK PAP= 317
the wardf … They were rightl … I’m off to Canada and the job is to bring
in a man from North Africa…. I must do id The calls to me are constant.
This evening a man-Army, 27thNaha casualty-from East Orange, N.J., said that
he and six others depended on mel There are so many like ourselvesl Why?
Why, for God’s sake, are we despised? We need help and all that’s offered to
us are the wardst . . .
August zq, zg6o. I’ve made my position clearl They go too far . . .
“Nimrod” is not just a code name for a location, it’s also a manl The geog-