Trevayne Read Online Free

open, staring out at the water, seeing nothing he would see. He always felt a slight ache when he watched her like that. The ache of sad, painful memories.
    Because of
Boston
, goddamn it.
    He realized that his sneakers had covered the sound of his steps; he didn’t want to startle her.
    “Hi,” he said softly.
    “Oh?” Phyllis blinked. “Have a good sail, darling?”
    “Fine. Good sleep?” Trevayne crossed over to her and kissed her lightly on her forehead.
    “Great while it lasted. It was interrupted.”
    “Oh? I thought the kids drove Lillian into town.”
    “It wasn’t the kids. Or Lillian.”
    “You sound ominous.” Trevayne reached into a large rectangular cooler on the patio table and withdrew a can of beer.
    “Not ominous. But I am curious.”
    “What are you talking about?” He ripped off the flip-top on the can and drank.
    “Franklyn Baldwin telephoned.… Why haven’t you returned his calls?”
    Trevayne held the beer next to his lips and looked athis wife. “Haven’t I seen that bathing suit on someone else?”
    “Yes, and I thank you for the compliment—intended or not—and I’d still like to know why you haven’t called him.”
    “I’m trying to avoid him.”
    “I thought you liked him.”
    “I do. Immensely. All the more reason to avoid him. He’s going to ask me for something, and I’m going to refuse him. At least, I think he’ll ask me, and I want to refuse him.”
    “What?”
    Trevayne walked absently to the stone wall bordering the terrace and rested the beer can on the edge. “Baldwin wants to recruit me. That’s the rumor; I think it’s called a ‘trial balloon.’ He heads up that commission on defense spending. They’re forming a subcommittee to make what they politely phrase an ‘in-depth study’ of Pentagon relationships.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “Four or five companies—conglomerates, really—are responsible for seventy-odd percent of the defense budget. In one way or another. There’s no effective control any longer. This subcommittee’s supposed to be an investigative arm of the Defense Commission. They’re looking for a chairman.”
    “And you’re it?”
    “I don’t want to be
it
. I’m happy where I am. What I’m doing now is positive; chairing that committee would be the most negative thing I can think of. Whoever takes the job will be a national pariah … if he only half works at it.”
    “Why?”
    “Because the Pentagon’s a mess. It’s no secret; read the papers. Any day. It’s not even subtle.”
    “Then why would anyone be a pariah for trying to fix it? I understand making enemies, not a national pariah.”
    Trevayne laughed gently as he carried the beer over to a chair next to his wife and sat down. “I love you for your New England simplicity. Along with the bathing suit.”
    “You’re pacing too much. Your thinking-feet are working overtime, darling.”
    “No, they’re not; I’m not interested.”
    “Then answer the question. Why a national pariah?”
    “Because the mess is too ingrained. And widespread. To be at all effective, that subcommittee’s going to have to call a lot of people a lot of names. Fundamentally act on a large premise of fear. When you start talking about monopolies, you’re not just talking about influential men shuffling around stock issues. You’re threatening thousands and thousands of jobs. Ultimately, that’s any monopoly’s hold, from top to bottom. You exchange one liability for another. It may be necessary, but you cause a lot of pain.”
    “My God,” said Phyllis, sitting up. “You’ve done a lot of thinking.”
    “Thinking, yes. Not doing.” Andrew bounced out of the chair and walked to the table, extinguishing his cigarette in an ashtray. “Frankly, I was surprised the whole idea got this far. These things—in-depth studies, investigations, call them whatever you want—are usually proposed loudly and disposed of quietly. In the Senate cloakroom or the House dining