Scruff

by Robert Ludlum

  “My wife will be down shortly,” said Hamilton, indicating a chair for Trevayne, taking his overcoat. “We’ve had a twenty-year understanding. Every Sunday she reads and breakfasts in bed while I take my dogs—or dog, as the case is now—for a run. We both find a gratifying hour or so of solitude this way.… I imagine it sounds rather old-fashioned.” Hamilton removed his mackinaw and fur cap and carried Trevayne’s overcoat into the hallway.

  “Not at all,” answered Andy. “It sounds very civilized.”

  Hamilton returned from hanging up the coats and looked at Trevayne. Even in a sloppy cardigan sweater, the lawyer had a custom-tailored appearance, thought Andrew. “Yes. It is civilized.… Actually, I’m the one who formalized the routine. It gave me an excuse not to accept telephone calls … or interruptions.”

  “I stand rebuked.”

  “I’m sorry.” Hamilton walked toward the table by the bay window. “That was unnecessarily rude of me; I do apologize. My life these days is really far less strenuous than it’s been in decades. I have no right to complain. Have some coffee?”

  “Thank you, no.”

  “Decades …” Hamilton chuckled as he poured himself coffee. “I sound like an old man. I’m not really. Fifty-eight next April. Most men my age are in the heavy-thick of it now.… Walter Madison, for instance. You’re a client of Madison’s, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Give Walter my regards. I’ve always liked him.… Very agile but completely ethical. You have a fine attorney, Mr. Trevayne.” Hamilton walked to the sofa opposite Trevayne and sat down, putting his cup and saucer on the solid oak coffee table.

  “Yes, I know. He’s spoken of you often. He considers you a brilliant man.”

  “Compared to what?… That’s a deceptive word, ‘brilliant.’ Overworked these days. A brief is brilliant, a dancer’s brilliant; a book, a hairpiece, eggs benedict, plans, machinery … I recall last summer a neighbor up the road called the horse manure for his garden ‘brilliant.’ ”

  “I’m sure Walter’s more selective.”

  “Of course he is. And unduly flattering.… Enough about me, I’m really semiretired these days, just a name on the stationery. My son is rather prominent, though, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Extremely. That was a good story in Life the other month.”

  “It was highly fictionalized, to tell you the truth.” Hamilton laughed his elegant laugh as he sipped coffee. “You know, that story was intended to be derogatory. Nasty girl writer, up to her eyeballs in women’s liberation and convinced my son made sex objects of all females. He found out, I’m told, seduced the poor crusading bitch, and the article turned out fine.”

  “He’s a remarkable talent.”

  “I like what he’s doing now more than I did his previous work. More reflective, less frantic.… Certainly you didn’t drop by to chat about the Hamilton family’s endeavors, Mr. Trevayne.”

  Andrew was startled by the lawyer’s abrupt transition. Then he understood. Hamilton had used the small talk to marshal his thoughts, his defenses, perhaps. He sat back on the sofa with the expression of a very knowledgeable debater.

  “The Hamilton endeavors.” Trevayne paused as though his words were a title. “That’s accurate, as a matter of fact. I dropped in because I find it necessary to discuss your endeavors, Mr. Hamilton. Relative to Genessee Industries.”

  “On what possible presumption do you find this necessity?”

  “As chairman of the subcommittee for the Defense Allocations Commission.”

  “An ad hoc committee, if I’m not mistaken, although I know very little about it.”

  “We’ve been granted power of subpoena.”

  “Which, if exercised, I’d challenge instantly.”

  “So far, there’s been no need for such challenges.”

  Hamilton let the point pass. “Genessee Industries is a client of our firm. A substantial and respected client. I wouldn’t for one second violate the sanctioned relationship between lawyer and client. You may have dropped in to no avail, Mr. Trevayne.”

  “Mr. Hamilton, my interest in your endeavors for Genessee Industries precedes the lawyer-client relationship. By nearly two years. The subcommittee is trying to piece together a … financial narrative, I guess you’d call it. How did we get where we are? A harmless variation on the Pentagon Papers.”

  “Two years ago I had nothing to do with Genessee Industries. There were no endeavors.”

  “Perhaps not directly. But there’s speculation—”

  “Neither directly nor indirectly, Mr. Trevayne,” interrupted Hamilton.

  “You were a member of the President’s Steel Import Commission.”

  “I certainly was.”

  “A month or two prior to the commission’s public ruling on steel quotas, Genessee Industries imported excessive tonnage from Tamishito in Japan, pocketing enormous savings. Several months afterward, Genessee floated a bond issue, with Brandon and Smith handling the legal work. Three months after that, you became a partner with Brandon and Smith.… The diagram would seem apparent.”

  Ian Hamilton sat rigidly on the couch, his eyes blazing in anger, but icily controlled. “That is the most scurrilous distortion of fact that I’ve heard in thirty-five years of practice. Out-of-context assumption. Misplaced concretion. And you know it, sir.”

  “I don’t know it. Neither do several members of the subcommittee.”

  Hamilton remained frozen, but Trevayne saw the lawyer’s mouth twitch—imperceptibly—at the mention of “several members of the subcommittee.”

  The ploy was working. It was the public speculation that Hamilton feared.

  “To enlighten you … and your exceedingly misinformed associates, any damn fool involved with steel two years ago knew a ruling was forthcoming. Japanese, Czechoslovakian … yes, even Chinese mills by way of Canada, were surfeited with American orders. They couldn’t possibly meet the demands.… In the basic rule of production, a single buyer is preferable to many. It’s cheaper, Mr. Trevayne.… Genessee Industries obviously had the wherewithal—more so than its competitors—and therefore became the major purchaser from Tamishito.… They didn’t need me to tell them. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

  “I’m sure that’s logical for those who deal in such economics; I’m not sure it would cut ice with the citizen-taxpayer. And he does foot the bill.”

  “Sophistry, Mr. Trevayne. And, again, you know it. A false argument. The American citizen is the most fortunate man on earth. He has the best minds, the most dedicated men watching out for him.”

  “I agree,” said Trevayne, and he did. “However, I prefer the term ‘working for,’ him, not ‘watching out.’ After all, they’re paid.”

  “Irrelevant. The definition is interchangeable.”

  “I hope so.… You did join Brandon and Smith at a propitious time.”

  “That will be about enough! If you’re suggesting there was reciprocity, I trust you’re prepared to substantiate the charge. My integrity is well established, Trevayne. I wouldn’t attempt a gutter assault, if I were you.”

  “I’m aware of your reputation. And the high regard people have for you.… It’s why I came to warn you, give you time to prepare your answers.”

  “You came to warn me?” Hamilton involuntarily sat forward. He was stunned.

  “Yes. The question of impropriety has been raised. It will call for a reply from you.”

  “To whom?” The lawyer couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “To the subcommittee. In open session.”

  “In open …” Hamilton’s expression was one of complete astonishment. “You can’t mean what you’re saying.”

  “I’m afraid I do.”

  “You have no right to parade whomever you choose in front of an ad hoc committee. In open session!”

  “The witnesses will be voluntary, Mr. Hamilton, not paraded. That’s the way we’d prefer it.”

  “You’d prefer? You’ve lost your senses. We
have laws to protect fundamental rights, Trevayne. You’ll not indiscriminately impugn the characters of men you see fit to harass.”

  “No harassments. After all, it won’t be a trial—”

  “You know perfectly well what I mean.”

  “Are you telling me you won’t accept our invitation?”

  Hamilton abruptly frowned and stared at Trevayne. He recognized the trap and wasn’t about to be ensnared. “I will privately give you the information you seek relative to my professional association with the firm of Brandon and Smith. It will answer the question you raised and remove any grounds for my appearance before your subcommittee.”

  “How?”

  Hamilton didn’t like being pressed. He knew the dangers of letting an adversary know too much of one’s defense. Nevertheless, he could hardly refuse to answer. “I will make available to you documents which show that in no way do I participate in any profits accruing from the Genessee bond issue. It was legal work obtained before our partnership agreement; I’m not entitled to participation, nor have I sought it.”

  “Some might say documents like that are easily written. Easily amended at later dates.”

  “Company audits and moneys due from existing contracts are not. No partnership is entered into without full audit disclosures.”

  “I see.” Trevayne smiled and spoke pleasantly. “Then it should be a simple matter for you to submit the papers and refute the allegation; over in two minutes.”

  “I said I would make the documents available to you. I did not say I would submit to questioning. I will not dignify such allegations; no one in my position would.”

  “You flatter me, Mr. Hamilton. You’re assuming me to be some kind of grand jury.”

  “I assume you establish the ground rules for your subcommittee’s procedures. Unless you’re misrepresenting yourself.”

  “Not intentionally. Or should I put it this way? Those kinds of documents—accounts, audits, whatever you call them—don’t impress me very much. I’m afraid I must insist on your appearance.”

  It took all of Hamilton’s control not to lash out at Trevayne. “Mr. Trevayne, I’ve spent the better part of two decades in Washington. I left it by choice, hardly necessity; there was no lack of interest in my capabilities. I still retain very solid relationships there.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “Only with enlightenment. I have personal reasons for not wishing to become part of any subcommittee circus maximus. I fully understand that such a road may be the only one for you to follow; by reputation you’re not a lean-and-hungry man. But I must insist on my privacy.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re saying.”

  Hamilton sat back on the sofa. “Should you not accept my personal vindication, should you insist on my appearing before your ad hoc committee, I shall use all of my influence—including the Department of Justice—to see you branded for what I think you are. An egomaniac intent on building your reputation by slandering others. If I’m not mistaken, you were warned once before about this unfortunate tendency. The old gentleman was subsequently killed in an automobile accident in Fairfax, Virginia.… A number of questions might be raised.”

  It was Trevayne now who leaned forward in his chair. He thought it was incredible. Ian Hamilton’s anger—fear, anger, panic—had caused the lawyer to reveal the connection he was looking for. It was almost laughable, because it was—contradictorily—so naïve on Hamilton’s part. As he looked at Hamilton, Andrew reflected that none of them took him at his word. None of them. They simply didn’t believe him when he repeated over and over again that he had nothing to lose. Or gain.

  “Mr. Hamilton, I think it’s time we both stopped making threats. Mainly for your sake.… Tell me, does your influence also include Mitchell Armbruster, Genessee’s senator from California? Joshua Studebaker, Genessee’s circuit court judge in Seattle? A labor leader named Manolo—and probably dozens like him—handling jurisdictional contracts all over the country? And a scientist named Jamison—probably hundreds like him, maybe thousands—bought and paid for and blackmailed into unswerving loyalty to the Genessee laboratories? Or Aaron Green? What can anyone say about Green? You’ve all convinced him that ‘never again’ means creating the very same climate of military influence that led his wife and child into showers at Auschwitz. What about it, counselor? Do you want to threaten me with these things, these people? Because I’ll tell you, frankly, I’m scared to death right now.”

  Ian Hamilton looked as though he’d just witnessed a swift, brutal hanging, a cruel execution. For several moments he was speechless, and Trevayne would not break the silence. Finally the lawyer spoke, almost inaudibly.

  “What have you done?”

  Trevayne remembered Green’s words. “My homework, Mr. Hamilton. I’ve attended to my books. But I have an idea I’ve only just begun. There’s also an impeccable fellow, a senator from Maryland, who’s done very well. Another senator, this one from Vermont, hasn’t done badly, I suspect. And the less respectable boys—on the surface less respectable. Men like Mario de Spadante and his organization of good-fellows, who happen to be experts with knives and guns. They’re doing nicely, thank you.… Oh, Christ, I’m sure I’ve a long way to go. And you’re just the man who can help me. Because while the rest of them have spheres of influence, you go right to the seat of power, don’t you?”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying.” Hamilton’s voice was flat, almost guttural.

  “Yes, I do. And it’s why I saved you for last. The last one on my list. Because we’re somewhat alike, Mr. Hamilton. Every one else has an ax, or a need. Something he needs or wants in the money area, or something he has to have rectified or avenged. We don’t. At least I can’t think what it might be. If you’ve got some kind of Rasputin complex, you picked a hell of a way to exercise it; as you said, ‘semiretired.’ Out of Washington.… I want answers, and I’ll get them from you, or I’ll parade you in front of that subcommittee as though you were the biggest float in the Tournament of Roses.”

  “Stop it!” Hamilton sprang up from the couch and stood rigidly in front of Andrew. “Stop it.… You’ll do extraordinary damage, Mr. Trevayne. You have no idea how dangerous your interfering could be for this country.”

  The lawyer walked slowly toward the bay window. It was apparent to Trevayne that Hamilton had nearly reached the decision to speak plainly.

  “How is that? I’m not unreasonable.”

  Hamilton looked out the window. “I hope that’s true. I’ve spent years watching dedicated men drive themselves to unendurable lengths trying to wrench vital decisions from the bureaucracy. I’ve seen executives in agencies throughout the government openly weep, scream at their subordinates, even destroy their marriages … because they were caught in the political labyrinth, their ability to act numbed by the counterthrust of indecision. Most tragic, I’ve stood helplessly by while this nation very nearly was plunged into catastrophe because men were too frightened to take positions, too concerned with their constituencies to accept the mantles of responsibility.” Hamilton turned from the window and looked at Andrew. “Our government has reached the point of unmanageability, Mr. Trevayne. It’s across-the-board; it’s not restricted to any one area. We’ve become a grotesque, awkward, fumbling giant. Instant communications have brought the decision-making processes into the living rooms of two hundred million uninformed households. And in this democratization we’ve necessarily lowered our standards abysmally. We have settled, strived for … mediocrity.”

  “That’s a pretty bleak picture, Mr. Hamilton. I’m not sure it’s an accurate one; not to the extent you describe.”

  “Of course it is, and you know it.”

  “I wish you’d stop saying that. I don’t know it.”

  “Then you’ve lost your powers of observation. Take the past two decades. Forgetting for a minute the extraterritorial problems such as Southeast Asia, Korea, the Middle East, the Bay of Pigs, the Berlin Wall, NATO—all of which
could have been handled with infinitely greater wisdom by unencumbered leaders—let’s look at the country itself. An inscrutable, totally unreliable economy; terrible recessions, inflation, mass unemployment. The urban crises which threaten revolution, and I mean armed revolution, Mr. Trevayne. The abusive riots; the overreactions of police and National Guard; labor and corporate corruption; uncontrolled strikes; utility services lost for weeks; a dissolute military, rife with incompetency and inadequate command. Can you say these are the products of an orderly society, Trevayne?”

  “They’re the result of a country undergoing a very skeptical self-examination. We have different viewpoints. A lot of it’s terrible … even tragic; there’s a lot that’s healthy, too.”

  “Nonsense.… Tell me, you started a business; you made a success of it. Would you have done so if the decisions were allowed to be made by your clerks?”

  “We were the specialists. It was our job to make the decisions.”

  “Then can’t you see? The clerks are making national and international decisions!”

  “The clerks elect the specialists. The voting booth—”

  “The voting booth is the answer to mediocrity’s prayer!… If only restricted to these times.”

  Trevayne looked up at the elegant lawyer, willing to give Hamilton more rope. “Whatever your motives, the subcommittee has to be convinced there’s no gross illegality. We’re not … inquisitors; we’re reasonable.”

  “There’s no illegality, Mr. Trevayne,” Hamilton went on, more gently. “We are an apolitical group of men who are trying solely to contribute. With no thoughts of self-aggrandizement.”

  “How does Genessee Industries fit in? I have to know that.”

  “Merely an instrument. An imperfect one, to be sure; but you’ve learned that …”