Trevayne Read Online Free Page B

conservative. Both parties have tried to recruit you, and you’ve refused both. You’re a contradiction in this age of nomenclature. You have nothing to gain or lose. You’ll be believed. That’s the important thing.… We’ve become a polarized people, slotted into intransigent, conflicting positions. We desperately need to believe once again in objective truth.”
    “If I accept, the Pentagon and everyone connected with it will run to the hills—or their public relations’ mimeographs. That’s what they usually do. How are you going to prevent this?”
    “The President. He has assured us; he’s a good man, Andrew.”
    “And I’m responsible to no one?”
    “Not even me. Only yourself.”
    “I hire my own staff; no outside personnel decisions?”
    “Give me a list of those you want. I’ll have it cleared.”
    “I call it as I find it. I get the cooperation I deem necessary.” Trevayne didn’t ask these last questions, he made statements which, nevertheless, anticipated answers.
    “Total. That I’ll guarantee. That I can promise you.”
    “I don’t want the job.”
    “But you’ll take it.” Another statement, this time from Franklyn Baldwin.
    “I told Phyllis. You’re persuasive, Frank. That’s why I was avoiding you.”
    “No man can avoid what he’s meant to do. At the moment he’s meant to do it. Do you know where I got that?”
    “Sounds Hebraic.”
    “No.… But close. Mediterranean. Marcus Aurelius. Have you met many bankers who’ve read Aurelius?”
    “Hundreds. They think he’s a mutual fund.”

3
    Steven Trevayne looked at the expressionless mannequins clad in tweed jackets and varying shades of gray flannel slacks. The subdued lighting of the College Shoppe was appropriate for the quietly wealthy image sought after by the residents of Greenwich, Connecticut. Steven looked down at his own Levi’s, soiled sneakers, and then noticed that one of the buttons on his old corduroy jacket was about to fall off.
    He consulted his watch and was annoyed. It was nearly time. He’d told his sister that he’d drive her and her friends back to Barnegat, but he’d stipulated that they were to meet him by eight-thirty. He had to pick up his date over on Cos Cob by nine-fifteen. He was going to be late.
    He wished to hell his sister hadn’t picked this particular night to have an all-girl gathering at home, or at least not to have promised rides for everyone. His sister wasn’t allowed to drive at night—an edict Steven Trevayne thought was ridiculous; she was seventeen—so when these occasions arose, he was elected.
    If he refused, his father might just find that all their cars were in use and he’d be without wheels.
    He was almost nineteen. He’d be off to college inthree weeks. Without a car. His father said no car while he was a freshman.
    Young Trevayne laughed to himself. His father was right. There was no earthly reason why he should have a car. He didn’t want to travel first class; not that way.
    He was about to cross the street to the drugstore and telephone his date when a police car pulled up to the curb in front of him.
    “You Steven Trevayne?” asked the patrolman at the near window.
    “Yes, sir.” The young man was apprehensive; the policeman spoke curtly.
    “Get in.”
    “Why? What’s the matter? I’m just standing here …”
    “You got a sister named Pamela?”
    “Yes. Yes, I do. I’m waiting for her.”
    “She won’t make it down here. Take my word for it. Get in.”
    “What’s the matter?”
    “Look, fella, we can’t reach your folks; they’re in New York. Your sister said you’d be down here, so we came after you. We’re doing you both a favor. Now, get in!”
    The young man pulled open the back door of the car and got in quickly. “Was there an accident? Is she all right?”
    “It’s always an accident, isn’t it?” said the policeman who was driving.
    Steven Trevayne gripped the back of the front seat. He was frightened now. “Please,