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Overview
“First-rate suspense.”—People
Twenty years ago, top agents from the CIA and KGB banded together to bring down the Matarese Circle, an international cabal of power brokers and assassins whose sole objective was to achieve worldwide economic domination. Now the bloody Matarese dynasty is back—and the only man with the power to stop it may have already run out of time.
CIA case officer Cameron Pryce is hot on the trail of the new Matarese alliance. His only chance to terminate its ruthless activities is to follow the trail of blood money and stone-cold killers right to the heart of its deadly conspiracy. From the Hamptons to London’s Belgrave Square, Matarese assassins have already struck with brutal efficiency, eliminating all who stand in their way. Their chain of violence is impossible to stop—until Pryce gets a rare break. One of the Matarese’s victims survives long enough to whisper dying words that will blow the case wide open: the top secret code name for legendary retired CIA agent Brandon Scofield—the only man who has ever infiltrated the Matarese inner circle and lived to tell about it.
“Welcome to Robert Ludlum’s world . . . fast pacing, tight plotting, international intrigue.”—The Plain Dealer
BONUS: This edition includes an excerpt from Robert Ludlum's The Bourne Identity.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780307813879 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Random House Publishing Group |
| Publication date: | 08/14/2012 |
| Series: | Matarese , #2 |
| Sold by: | Random House |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 544 |
| Sales rank: | 315,907 |
| File size: | 3 MB |
About the Author
Date of Birth:
May 25, 1927Date of Death:
March 12, 2001Place of Death:
Naples, FloridaEducation:
B.A., Wesleyan University, 1951Website:
http://www.ludlumbooks.com/Read an Excerpt
The huge, glistening white yacht, its length over a hundred fifty feet from bow to stern, slowly maneuvered its way into the marina at Estepona, the northern point of Spain's opulent Costa del Sol, a retirement haven for the wealthy of the world.
The gaunt old man in the luxurious master stateroom sat in a velvet-covered chair, attended to by his personal valet of nearly three decades. The aged owner of the ship was being groomed by his servant and friend for the most important conference of his long life, a life that spanned over ninety years, the precise age kept secret, for much of that life was spent in the cutthroat arenas of men much younger. Why give those avaricious turks the advantage of his rumored senility, which in reality amounted to several generations of superior experience? Three cosmetic operations on his features might have left his face partially masklike, but that was merely superficial, a misleading image to confuse the opportunists who would usurp his financial empire, given half a chance.
An empire that meant nothing any longer. It was a paper colossus worth over seven billion American dollars, seven thousand times a million, built on the manipulations of a long-forgotten entity. It began with a vision of revenge and turned ever more violently satanic, further corrupted by underlings who had no vision beyond themselves.
"How do I look, Antoine?"
"Splendid, monsieur," replied the valet, applying a mild aftershave lotion and removing a lap cloth to reveal formal clothes complete with a striped cravat.
"This isn't too much, is it?" asked the elegant employer, gesturing at his finery.
"Not at all. You are the chairman, sir, and they must understand that. You can brook no opposition."
"Oh, my old friend, there'll be no opposition. I plan to instruct my various boards to prepare for destructurization. I intend to give generous benefits to all who have devoted their time and energy to enterprises they essentially knew nothing about."
"There will be those who will find your instructions difficult to accept, mon ami Rene."
"Good! You're dropping our pretenses, you're about to tell me something." Both men laughed softly as the old man continued. "If the truth were told, Antoine, I should have put you on some executive committee. I can't remember when your advice was in error."
"I only offered it when you asked and when I thought I understood the circumstances. Never in the areas of business negotiations, of which I understand nothing."
"Only of people, correct?"
"Let's say I'm protective, Rene. . . . Come, let me help you up and put you in the wheelchair--"
"No, Antoine, no wheelchair! Take my arm and I'll walk into the meeting. . . . By the way, what did you mean when you said there'll be those who won't like my instructions? They'll get their benefits. They'll all be more than comfortable."
"Security is not the same as active involvement, mon ami. The workers will be grateful, indeed, but your executives may feel otherwise. You are removing them from their fiefdoms of power, of influence. Beware, Rene, several who'll be at this conference are among that group."
The yacht's large dining room was a low-ceilinged replica of a fashionable Paris restaurant, the impressionistic murals on the walls depicting scenes of the Seine, the Arc de Triomphe, the Eiffel Tower, and various other Parisian sights. The circular mahogany table held five chairs, four occupied, one vacant. Seated were four men in severe business suits, bottles of Evian water in front of each, ashtrays with boxes of Gauloises cigarettes beside them. Only two ashtrays were in use, the others firmly set aside.
The frail old man walked into the room, accompanied by his valet of twenty-eight years, known by all around the table from previous meetings. Salutations were exchanged; the ancient "chairman" was lowered into a middle chair, as his servant sat behind him against the wall. The procedure was accepted, none objected, nor could they, for it was tradition.
"So here are all the attorneys. Mon avocat in Paris, ein Rechtsanwalt in Berlin, mio avvocato in Rome, and, of course, our corporate lawyer in Washington, D.C. It is good to see you again." There were muted acceptances of the greeting; the old man went on. "I can see by your eager reception that you are not enthralled by our meeting. That's a pity, for my instructions will be carried out, whether you like it or not."
"If you please, Herr Mouchistine," said the attorney from Germany, "we have all received your coded instructions, now locked away in our vaults, and, frankly, we are appalled! It's not merely your intention to sell your companies and all their assets--"
"Excluding rather extraordinary sums for your professional services, of course," Rene Mouchistine abruptly, firmly, broke in.
"We're most appreciative of your generosity, RenÚ, but that's not our concern," said the lawyer from Washington, D.C. "It's what follows. Certain markets will crash, stocks plummet . . . questions will be asked! There could be investigations . . . all of us compromised."
"Nonsense. Each of you has been following the orders of the elusive Rene Pierre Mouchistine, sole owner of my enterprises. To do otherwise would result in your dismissal. For once, tell the truth, gentlemen. With the truth, no one can touch you."
"But, monsignore," exclaimed the avvocato from Italy, "you are selling assets far below market value! For what purpose? You delegate millions upon millions to charities everywhere, to nobodies who cannot tell a lira from a deutsche mark! What are you, a socialista who wants to reform the world while destroying the thousands who believed in you, in us?"
"Not at all. You are all part of something that began years before you were born, the vision of the great padrone, the Baron of Matarese."
"Who?" asked the French attorney.
"I vaguely remember hearing the name, mein Herr," said the German. "But it has no relevance for me."
"Why should it?" Rene Mouchistine glanced briefly over his shoulder at his valet, Antoine. "You are all nothing but the webs of spiders that spun out from the source, hired by the source, making its operations appear legitimate, for you were legitimate. You say I'm giving back millions to those who lost the games--where do you suppose my riches came from? We became greed gone berserk."
"You cannot do this, Mouchistine!" shouted the American, springing to his feet. "I'll be hauled before Congress!"
"And I! The Bundestag will insist on investigating!" yelled the Rechtsanwalt from Berlin.
"I will not subject myself to the Chamber of Deputies!" cried the Parisian.
"I'll have our associates in Palermo convince you otherwise," said the man from Rome ominously. "You'll see the logic."
"Why not try it now yourself? Are you afraid of an old man?"
The Italian rose in fury to his feet, his hand reaching under his tailored jacket. It was as far as he got. Kesitch! A silenced, single gunshot blew his face apart, fired by Antoine, the valet. The Roman lawyer fell, soiling the parquet floor.
"You're insane!" screamed the German. "He was merely showing you a newspaper article in which several of your companies are linked to the Mafia, which is true. You are a monster!"
"That's sheer irony coming from you, considering Auschwitz and Dachau."
"I wasn't born then!"
"Read history. . . . What do you say, Antoine?"
"Self-defense, monsieur. As a senior informer to the Súrete, I will put it in my report. He reached for a weapon."
"Shit!" yelled the lawyer from Washington. "You set us up here, you son of a bitch!"
"Not really. I simply wanted to make sure you would carry out my orders."
"We can't! For God's sake, don't you understand? It would be the end of all of us--"
"One certainly, but we'll get rid of the body, fish for the fish under the sea."
"You are insane!"
"We became insane. We were not at the beginning. . . .Stop! Antoine! . . .The portholes!"
The yacht's small circular windows were suddenly filled with faces covered with rubber masks. One by one, each smashed the glass with his weapon and began firing indiscriminately at every corner and shadow of the room. The valet, Antoine, pulled Mouchistine under a bulkhead armoire, his own shoulder blown apart, his master punctured around the chest. His friend of thirty years would not survive.
"RenÚ, RenÚ!" cried Antoine. "Take deep breaths, keep breathing! They've gone! I'll get you to the hospital!"
"No, Antoine, it is too late!" Mouchistine choked. "The lawyers are gone and I do not regret my end. I lived with evil and I die rejecting it. Perhaps it will mean something somewhere."
"What are you talking about, mon ami, the dearest friend of my life?"
"Find Beowulf Agate."
"Who?"
"Ask Washington. They have to know where he is! Vasili Taleniekov was killed, yes, but not Beowulf Agate. He is somewhere and he knows the truth."
"What truth, my closest friend?"
"The Matarese! They're back. They knew about this conference, the coded instructions that are meaningless without the ciphers. Whoever's left had to stop me, so you must stop them!"
"How?"
"Fight it with all your heart and soul! Soon it will be everywhere. It was the evil that the archangel of hell prophesied, the good that became the servant of Satan."
"You're not making sense. I'm not a biblical scholar!"
"You don't have to be," whispered the dying Mouchistine. "Ideas are greater monuments than cathedrals. They last millennia beyond the stone."
"What the hell are you saying?"
"Find Beowulf Agate. He's the key."
RenÚ Mouchistine spastically lurched forward, then fell back, his head resting against the bulkhead. His last words were so clear they might have been gutturally whispered through an echo chamber. "The Matarese . . . the evil incarnate." The old man with the secrets was dead.
In the rugged Corsican hills above the waters of Porto Vecchio on the Tyrrhenian Sea, there stood the skeletal remains of a once-majestic estate. The exterior stonework, built to stand for centuries, was by and large intact, the insides of the various structures destroyed, gutted by fire decades ago. It was midafternoon, the skies dark, heavy rain imminent as a late-winter storm made its way up the coast from Bonifacio. Soon the air and the earth would be drenched, mud everywhere, the overgrown, barely visible paths around the great house to be slogged through, not walked over.
"I would suggest that we hurry, padrone," said the heavyset Corsican in a hooded parka. "The roads back to the Senetosa airfield are difficult enough without the storm," he added in accented English, the language mutually agreed upon.
"Senetosa can wait," replied the slender man in a raincoat, his speech betraying a Netherlands origin. "Everything can wait until I'm finished!...Let me have the survey map for the north property, if you please." The Corsican reached into his pocket and withdrew a many-folded sheaf of heavy paper. He gave it to the man from Amsterdam, who rapidly unfolded it, placed it against a stone wall, and anxiously studied it. He kept turning his gaze away from the map, looking over at the area that momentarily consumed his attention. The rain began, a drizzle that quickly became a steady shower.
"Over here, padrone," cried the guide from Bonifacio, pointing at an archway in the stone wall. It was the entrance to a long-ago garden arbor of sorts, odd insofar as the arch itself was barely four feet wide while its thickness was nearly six feet--tunnel-like, strange. It was overgrown with vines crawling up the sides, strangling the entrance--forbidding. Still, it was a refuge from the sudden downpour.
The "padrone," a man in his early forties, dashed into the small sanctuary, immediately pressing the unfolded map against the spidery foliage; he took out a red felt marker from his raincoat pocket and circled a wide area. "This section," he yelled to be heard over the pounding rain hitting the stone, "it must be roped off, sealed off, so that no one enters it or disturbs it in any way! Is that clear?"
"If that is your order, it is done. But, padrone, you're talking about a hundred or so acres."
"Then that is my order. My representatives will check constantly to make sure it's carried out."
"That is not necessary, sir, I shall carry it out."
"Good, fine, do so."
"And the rest, grande signore?"
"As we discussed in Senetosa. Everything must be precisely duplicated from the original plans as recorded in Bastia two hundred years ago, updated, of course, with modern conveniences. Whatever you need will be supplied by my ships and cargo aircraft in Marseilles. You have the numbers and the codes for my unlisted telephones and fax machines. Accomplish what I ask of you--demand from you--and you can retire a wealthy man, your future secure."
"It is a privilege to have been chosen, padrone."
"And you understand the need for absolute secrecy?"
"Naturalmente, padrone! You are an eccentric Bavarian man of immense riches who cares to live out his life in the magnificent hills of Porto Vecchio. That is all anyone knows!"
"Good, fine."
"But if I may, grande signore, we stopped in the village and the old woman who runs that decrepit inn saw you. In truth, she fell to her knees in the kitchen and gave thanks to the Savior that you had come back."
"What?"
"If you recall, when our refreshments were so long in coming, I went into the cucina and found her in very loud prayers. She wept as she spoke, saying that she could tell by your face, your eyes. "The Barone di Matarese has returned,' she repeated over and over again." The Corsican spoke the name as it was in Italian, Mataresa. "She thanked the Lord God that you had come back, that greatness and happiness would return to the mountains."
"That incident must be erased from your memory, do you understand me?"
"Of course, sir. I heard nothing!"
"To the reconstruction. It must be completed in six months. Spare nothing, just do it."
"I will endeavor to do my best."
"If your best is not good enough, you'll have no retirement, wealthy or otherwise, capisce?"
"I do, padrone," said the Corsican, swallowing.
"As to the old woman at the inn--"
"Yes?"
"Kill her."
Interviews
On Wednesday, November 5, barnesandnoble.com welcomed Robert Ludlum, author of THE MATARESE COUNTDOWN.
Moderator from barnesandnoble.com: Welcome, Mr. Ludlum. What a pleasure it is for us to have you here tonight! Is this your first online interview?
Robert Ludlum: The answer is yes!
Jeffrey Ludlum from New Jersey: Hi, Grandpa! Are you actually online -- are they using a phone or are you on a computer? I'll see you soon.
Robert Ludlum: Hi, Jeff, how's it going?
Richard from the stacks: Do you have a strategy for designing suspense? Your work is fantastic, I'm wondering how you do it!
Robert Ludlum: Well, I think one has to go with the "what if" or "what's next" syndrome. You have to get beneath the plot and explore it in realistic terms.
Marry Glenn from incosco.com: Your characters are so political -- were you ever involved in politics before you became a writer? What's your reason for charging your stories with politics?
Robert Ludlum: Well, I've been a political animal. I have definite opinions in politics. I try to present both sides of the subject. As George Bernard Shaw once said, "If you want to make a statement, make sure you entertain." That's what I try to do.
Ben from NYC: There is a popular perception that men in various boardrooms around theglobe actually "control the world" and that governments are not truly as"legitimate" as one might think. In light of this perception, do you thinkthat there might be organizations such as the Matarese out there somewhere? Or, put another way, couldn't the Matarese conspiracy happen in one form oranother today?
Robert Ludlum: Well, remembering that I do write fiction, there is the possibility, if one wants to analyze the current situation of the mergers and buyouts, that we could go to a society wherein the few have the power over the many. This is what bothers me, and this is what THE MATARESE COUNTDOWN is about.
Smith from Atlanta: It has been rumored that the TV show "TheX-Files," for example, is actually based on true FBI and CIA files of thepast in many cases. Might any of your plotlines, particularly this one, bebased on actual events? Does any of your past work have a basis in truth,however loosely re-created, or is it all straight out of your head?
Robert Ludlum: Well, to begin with, I've never watched "The X-Files." But in terms of my fiction, in the cases of abused power -- yes, that's entirely possible!
Beth Richard from Chicago: Is Jason Bourne ever coming back or are you on to other things? Also, was the character Jason Bourne based on anyone you knew or met?
Robert Ludlum: Jason was not based on anyone I knew. Jason is close to my age now -- he can't do what he once could. He's retired now in China.
Cara Beakman from Long Island, NY: Did you have to do any research to write this book, or traveling?
Robert Ludlum: I do a great deal of traveling, because it's necessary. You can tell a joke here, then tell it in the Caribbean Islands and get a different response. Every ambience is different. I would be lost if I didn't travel a great deal.
Amy K. from Charlotte, NC: Hi, Mr. Ludlum. I just wanted to let you know how much I have loved your books over the years. Your attention to not only great detail with conspiracies but also to individual characters really makes each one a pleasure to read. Because each book is so complicated, I am wondering if you outline in detail before you begin to write or if you just create as you write.
Robert Ludlum: Well, thank you. When I was younger, I would write an outline of 50-100 pages to give me an idea of what I was doing. As time went on, I would write a shorter outline and maybe a few chapters outlining my characters. I never wrote more than a few chapters according to the outline, because the characters became alive, and they would determine the end of the book.
Chris B. from New York: What book do you think you put the most effort into?
Robert Ludlum: I think it's kind of a cliché, but it's not It's the one you're working on. When you're writing, you need to psyche yourself up to sustain the eight or 12 months it takes to write it. So, it's always the one you're working on.
Michael Ludlum from New Jersey: Hello, Dad. Good talking to you earlier this evening. Glad to see you are taking advantage of this online stuff. We will have to get you really wired, when we come to visit. Good luck tonight.
Robert Ludlum: Hello, Michael. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm glad you could do whatever you did to be here. Now go to bed! Oh, I guess I can't say that...you're over 40.
Jensen from Brooklyn: Lacking the Soviet threat, and reasonably sure that terrorists couldexact slight, random damage but nothing of a truly grand, worldwide scale,couldn't one make the case that the Matarese represent the next phase ofglobal "warfare" for total domination -- subtlebusiness war or, put another way, economic war, fought in boardrooms and stock exchanges, not with gun and sword but with calculator andexchange rate?
Robert Ludlum: Well, you've just answered the entire question of THE MATARESE COUNTDOWN -- that's what I've written about. What you've just said is what I say. To quote two great gentlemen, George Bernard Shaw said "If you've got something to say, entertain while you say it." And Jack Lemmon said "He never backed off from a provocative picture as long as the provocation was interwoven with entertainment." The ultimate logical conclusion is power by a few over too many.
David P. from San Diego, CA: Do you have plans to write anything else in the Bourne series or has this been retired?
Robert Ludlum: I'll tell you, Jason has grown older over the years. By the last book he was 50-something. I am now 70, and I know I can no longer do what I used to do -- I can't jump over a five-foot fence, so I think Jason should retire.
Robin Baldwin from Vermont: Have you found it hard to create new "bad guys" for your books without thecold war and the "communist" or Eastern European "threat" to make for nice,neat conflicts? Is this perhaps why you have come back to the Matarese --because they are relatively neutral with regards to East and West, as far as"bad guys" go?
Robert Ludlum: I have never subscribed to the idea that communism would ever work. But I have written books in which a CIA man worked with a KGB man. I do not subscribe to absolute ideological extremes, so I have no problem with the collapse of communism. I deal with the collapse of character, not just the collapse of the communistic ideology.
Doug Pontiac from Englewood, CO: One of your main characters is code-named Beowulf. Any symbolismthere? I can't resist asking whether we might expect a villain named Grendel in the future.
Robert Ludlum: That's very amusing, but I chose Beowulf because the Russian tendency is to use the first two names instead of the last. I drew the name from Chaucer's Beowulf tales.
Diana from Hinsdale, IL: Did you plan on writing a sequel to THE MATARESE CIRCLE before you actually wrote it, or after? Will there be another part to the story?
Robert Ludlum: No, I had no idea I would write the sequel, but so many people always asked what happened to Beowulf. Then it occurred that the recent market, downsizing, etc., would make good fodder for this story. It's really as simple as that.
David Przybylinski from Carlsbad, CA: Hello, Robert! I have read a lot of your books and have found them too hard to put down. The Bourne series is one of my all-time favorite reads. Where do you come up with the ideas for the background on your books? Is it done through a lot of research or do you just have an incredible imagination?
Robert Ludlum: Thank you very much. Most of it is whatever minor imagination I have, and the traveling I do with my wife. It's nothing magical, but I simply love telling stories.
Yurisa from Itoko: Hi, I am a big fan of the Bourne series. Do you plan to write more?
Robert Ludlum: No, I don't. As I've said, Jason is ready for R & R relaxation and retirement. It's foolish to expect a man to do the things he did then now. And because I like humor, I like to say he's retired with charm.
Rachel Barnes from Fort Worth, TX: What kind of books do you read when you are not writing? Classics or contemporary?
Robert Ludlum: I'll be very honest. I was asked this once on the Johnny Carson show, and I mentioned many of my contemporaries. When I got home to Connecticut, my phone was ringing off the hook with everyone calling me an S.O.B. for not mentioning them. Now I just say the 19th-century writers -- they're all dead...Dickens, Thackeray, Tolstoy, etc.
Alana from New Jersey: Hi! I'm Shannon's best friend. I am too young to have read any of your books yet, but I promise I will one day!By the way, my grandfather loves your book. Hope to meet you some day.
Robert Ludlum: Well, Shannon is my granddaughter! I'll be very pleased to meet you when I come north one day. I'll tell Shannon you were here.
David P. from Carlsbad, CA: Have you ever thought of combining forces with another thrill writer like Tom Clancy to put out an incredible political thriller?
Robert Ludlum: No. Mr. Clancy and I have different political views.
Rick Knapp from Rockland: Mr. Ludlum, with Jason Bourne retired, will we get a third Matarese novel? If so, you probably should hurry, as Beowulf is at retirement age as well. How about Beowulf and Jason in "The Over the Hill Gang III"?
Robert Ludlum: That would make for one hell of a farce comedy -- I think that's a great idea! But I'll have to leave that combination to one of my son's friends; they're some great writers.
Amelia from Anchorage: It's so great to be able to interact with you like this. I have read almost all of your books, but one particularly memorable one was THE PARSIFAL MOSAIC, because in addition to the usual great detail and conspiracies, there was the wonderful, compelling love story. The romantic aspect of this book seemed even more alive and real than in your other books. Was it based on something that happened in real life or was it a product of your imagination?
Robert Ludlum: Well, I must say that it was really a product of any imagination I might have. I simply put the characters in a place; sometimes affection turns to love. It can help two people out of difficult situations. I believe in love -- I was married for many years and my wife passed away. I am now remarried to a wonderful lady. So I believe in this cycle.
Chuck Redone from D.C.: Did you have a model for Beowulf when you began writing?
Robert Ludlum: No, I did not really. However, I have known people in the intelligence community -- he's an amalgam of many of them.
R. Hamilton from DeKalb, IL: I've read most of your books and would like to try my hand at writing a novel in the same vein. I realize it will vary, but on the average, how long does it take you to produce a book?
Robert Ludlum: Well, I'd say I do three months research, then 15 months writing the book itself. I wish you all the luck in the world -- it's a tough profession.
Yurisa from Japan: Now I've read that Jason was retired, I just wanted you to know what a great character he was. I mean, I've read many suspense novels, and he is absolutely the best of all that I know. He is intelligent, has a warm heart, is sincere and full of charms. At the same time, he is not afraid to show his weaknesses, which is natural, and I like him more because of that. Please keep presenting great stories. (I heard that you were retiring -- is that right?)
Robert Ludlum: I've said that a number of times. I'm very grateful for your compliments. My wife says, Oh yes, you say you've retired, but you'll be back in your office on Monday. So yes, I say I'm retired, but I'll be back at work before long.
Diane S. from Kennesaw: Hi, Mr. Ludlum. I have enjoyed your books over the years. I was saddened to learn of your heart attack but relieved that you fully recovered. Have you ever considered featuring a woman as the main hero in one of your adventures?
Robert Ludlum: I did do a hero of sorts in the Scorpion. She was a terrorist, not a hero, but I did write from the woman's perspective. I did have triple heart bypass, but I am now benching three tons in the guidance of my trainer, and my wife makes sure I do it! I'm doing quite well...thank you very much.
John from St. Petersburg, USA!: Just wanted to tell you that I really enjoy your work. Keep on keepin' on.
Robert Ludlum: I probably will, but when one reaches 70, as I did two weeks ago, one realizes he may have worn out his welcome. But I'm sure I'm going to try again.
Tracy from Lansing, MI: I, too, have to say I love your books. You are one of a very few authors that I can't wait for the paperback to come out, so I buy the hardcovers and keep them forever, it seems! It must be very satisfyingwhen a book comes together. I watched as my boss wrote a book about politics, and just when I thought he was done, he would change a word or paragraph here or there. Do you eventually reach a point where you feel you have to let it go after final editing, or is there always something more you want to do but you have to let it go anyway?
Robert Ludlum: A terribly intelligent question. I came from the theater, and you come to a point where you have to say "freeze it." If you are a professional, you just have to know when to say, "This is the best I can do."
Nancy Schell from Maryland: Hi, Mr. Ludlum! The idea of "untouchable" businessmen and the like invading and manipulatingevery facet of our economy is both chilling and enthralling, and the stuff ofgreat novels. Do your books ever scare you, though, in terms of how rightyou might be? I mean, wouldn't Aldous Huxley -- who wrote of geneticmanipulation and cloning in BRAVE NEW WORLD -- be blown away by the cloningof sheep in Scotland if he were alive today? Your work, particularly thisnovel, seems to have the possibility for truth in many cases.
Robert Ludlum: Every novelist, remembering that it is fiction, starts with a premise that is extremist. I do not believe that what happened in THE MATARESE COUNTDOWN could happen, but it is the extreme of the extreme. I call it the illogical outcome of the logical.
Ben from Washington, D.C.: Do you write using a word processor? How does writing with a computer compare with the good old days of Royal electrics and paper?
Robert Ludlum: I've got news for you. I still write by hand on a yellow pad of paper and send it to my secretary in Connecticut. I'm of the old-fashioned type who can make money writing from planes, trains, or jail.
Mickey from San Diego: What turned you on initially to espionage?
Robert Ludlum: Well, I don't call it espionage, I call it suspense, and I think it's because I come from the theater, it's the suspension of disbelief. I had some friends in the intelligence agency; I used to call them to see if what I was writing seemed real. If they didn't laugh, I knew it was okay.
Moderator: Thanks for so diligently responding to all of our questions here tonight. We hope to see you here again in the future. Goodnight!
Robert Ludlum: Thank you very much for having me!
