The Matlock Paper Read Online Free PDF

do
you
gain?” Loring leaned forward, returning Sam’s stare. “We pick up a couple of hundred potheads, a few dozen speedfreaks; users and low-level pushers. Don’t you understand, that doesn’t
solve
anything.”
    “Which brings us to what you really want, doesn’t it?” Matlock sank back into the chair; he watched the persuasive agent closely.
    “Yes,” answered Loring softly. “We want Nimrod. We want to know the location of that conference on May 10. It could be anywhere within a radius of fifty to a hundred miles. We want to be prepared for it. We want to break the back of the Nimrod operation, for reasons that go way beyond Carlyle University. As well as narcotics.”
    “How?” asked James Matlock.
    “Dr. Sealfont said it. Infiltration.… Professor Matlock, you are what’s known in intelligence circles as a highly mobile person within your environment. You’re widely accepted by diverse, even conflicting factions—within both the faculty and the student body. We have the names, you have the mobility.” Loring reached into his briefcase and withdrew the scissored page of filthy stationery. “Somewhere out there is theinformation we need. Somewhere there’s someone who has a paper like this; someone who knows what we have to know.”
    James Barbour Matlock remained motionless in his chair, staring at the government man. Neither Loring nor Kressel could be sure what he was thinking but both had an idea. If thoughts were audible, there would have been full agreement in that room at that moment. James Matlock’s mind had wandered back three, almost four years ago. He was remembering a blond-haired boy of nineteen. Immature for his age, perhaps, but good, kind. A boy with problems.
    They’d found him as they’d found thousands like him in thousands of cities and towns across the country. Other times, other Nimrods.
    James Matlock’s brother, David, had inserted a needle in his right arm and had shot up thirty mg. of white fluid. He had performed the act in a catboat in the calm waters of a Cape Cod inlet. The small sailboat had drifted into the reeds near shore. When they found it, James Matlock’s brother was dead.
    Matlock made his decision.
    “Can you get me the names?”
    “I have them with me.”
    “Just hold it.” Kressel stood up, and when he spoke, it wasn’t in the tone of an angry man—it was with fear. “Do you realize what you’re asking him to do? He has no experience in this kind of work. He’s not trained. Use one of your
own
men.”
    “There isn’t time. There’s no time for one of our men. He’ll be protected; you can help.”
    “I can
stop
you!”
    “No, you can’t, Sam,” said Matlock from the chair.
    “Jim, for Christ’s sake, do you know what he’s asking?If there’s
any
truth to what he’s said, he’s placing you in the worst position a man can be in. An informer.”
    “You don’t have to stay. My decision doesn’t have to be your decision. Why don’t you go home?” Matlock rose and walked slowly to the bar, carrying his glass.
    “That’s impossible now,” said Kressel, turning toward the government agent. “And
he knows it
.”
    Loring felt a touch of sadness. This Matlock was a good man; he was doing what he was doing because he felt he owed a debt. And it was coldly, professionally projected that by accepting the assignment, James Matlock was very possibly going to his death. It was a terrible price, that possibility. But the objective was worth it. The conference was worth it.
    Nimrod was worth it.
    That was Loring’s conclusion.
    It made his assignment bearable.

4
    Nothing could be written down; the briefing was slow, repetition constant. But Loring was a professional and knew the value of taking breaks from the pressures of trying to absorb too much too rapidly. During these periods, he attempted to draw Matlock out, learn more about this man whose life was so easily expendable. It was nearly midnight; Sam Kressel had left before eight