The Bourne Supremacy (17 page)

Webb nodded as the clerk, reservation in hand, ducked under the counter on the far left and walked rapidly across the crowded floor to a door behind the concierge's desk. David looked around at the opulent lobby, which in a sense started outside in the immense circular courtyard with its sprays of tall, gushing fountains and extended through the bank of elegant glass doors and across the marble floor to a semicircle of enormously high tinted windows that looked out over Victoria Harbour. The ever-moving tableau beyond was a hypnotic mise-en-scene for the open curving lounge in front of the wall of soft-coloured glass. There were dozens of small tables and leather settees, mostly occupied, with uniformed waiters and waitresses scurrying about. It was an arena from which tourists and negotiators alike could view

the panorama of the harbour's commerce, played out in front of the rising skyline of the island of Hong Kong in the distance. The watery view outside was familiar to Webb, but nothing else. He had never been inside the extravagant hotel before; at least nothing of what he saw aroused any flashes of recognition.

Suddenly his eyes were drawn to the sight of the clerk rushing across the lobby several steps ahead of a middle-aged Oriental, obviously the Regent's assistant manager, Mr Liang. Again the younger man ducked under the counter and quickly resumed his position in front of David, his accommodating eyes as wide as they could be in anticipation. Seconds later the hotel executive approached, bowing slightly from the waist, as befitted his professional station.

This is Mr Liang, sir,' announced the clerk.

'May I be of service?' said the assistant manager. 'And may I say it is a pleasure to welcome you as our guest?5

Webb smiled and shook his head politely. 'It may have to be another time, I'm afraid. '

'You are displeased with the accommodations, Mr Cruett?'

'Not at all. I'd probably like them very much. But, as I told your young man, I prefer smaller quarters, a single or even a double room, but not a suite. However, I understand there may not be anything available. '

'Your wire specifically mentioned Suite Six-ninety, sir. '

'I realize that and I apologize. It was the work of an overzealous sales representative.' Webb frowned in a friendly, quizzical manner and asked courteously. 'Incidentally, who did make those arrangements? I certainly didn't. '

'Your representative, perhaps,' offered Liang, his eyes noncommittal.

'In sales? He wouldn't have the authority. No, he said it was one of the companies over here. We can't accept, of course, but I'd like to know who made such a generous offer. Surely, Mr Liang, since you personally authorized the reservation, you can tell me. '

The noncommittal eyes became more distant, then blinked; it was enough for David but the charade had to be played out. 'I believe one of our staff - our very large staff -

came to me with the request, sir. There are so many reservations, we are so busy, I really can't recall. '

'Certainly there are billing instructions. '

'We have many honoured clients whose word on a telephone is sufficient. '

'Hong Kong has changed. '

'And always changing, Mr Cruett. It is possible your host wishes to tell you himself. It would not be proper to intrude on such wishes. '

'Your sense of trust is admirable. '

'Backed by a billing code" in the cashier's computer, naturally.' Liang attempted a smile; it was false.

'Well, since you have nothing else, I'll strike out on my own. I have friends at the Pen across the street,' said Webb, referring to the revered Peninsula Hotel.

That will not be necessary. Further arrangements can be made. '

'But your clerk said-'

'He is not the assistant manager of the Regent, sir.' Liang briefly glared at the young man behind the counter.

'My screen shows nothing to be available,' protested the clerk in defence.

'Be quiet!' Liang instantly smiled, as falsely as before, aware that he had undoubtedly lost the charade with his command. 'He is so young - they are all so young and inexperienced - but very intelligent, very willing... We keep several rooms in reserve for misunderstood occasions.' Again he looked at the clerk and spoke harshly while smiling. 'Ting, ruan-ji!' He continued rapidly in Chinese, every word understood by an expressionless Webb. 'Listen to me, you boneless chicken! Do not offer information in my presence unless I ask you! You will be spit from the garbage shoot if you do it again. Now assign this fool Room Two-zero-two. It is listed as Hold; remove the listing and proceed.' The assistant manager, his waxen smile even more pronounced, turned back to David. 'It is a very pleasant room with a splendid view of the harbour, Mr Cruett. '

The charade was over, and the winner minimized his victory with persuasive appreciation. 'I'm most grateful,' said

David, his eyes boring into those of the suddenly insecure Liang. 'It will save me the trouble of phoning all over the city telling people where I'm staying.' He stopped, his right hand partially raised, a man about to continue. David Webb was acting on one of several instincts, instincts developed by Jason Bourne. He knew it was the moment to instil fear. 'When you say a room with a splendid view, I assume you mean you hao jingse de fangian. Am I right? Or is my Chinese too foolish?'

The hotel man stared at the American. 'I could not have phrased it better,' he said softly. 'The clerk will see to everything. Enjoy your stay with us, Mr Cruett. '

'Enjoyment must be measured by accomplishment, Mr Liang. That's either a very old or very new Chinese proverb, I don't know which. '

'I suspect it's new, Mr Cruett. It's too active for passive reflection, which is the soul of Confucius, as I'm sure you know. '

'Isn't that accomplishment?'

'You are too swift for me, sir.' Liang bowed. 'If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to reach me. '

'I hardly think that will be necessary, but thank you. Frankly, it was a long and dreadful flight, so I'll ask the switchboard to hold all calls until dinner time. '

'Oh?5 Liang's insecurity became something far more pronounced; he was a man afraid. 'But surely if an emergency arises-'

'There's nothing that can't wait. And since I'm not in Suite Six-ninety, the hotel can simply say I'm expected later. That's plausible, isn't it? I'm terribly tired. Thank you, Mr Liang. '

Thank you, Mr Cruett.' The assistant manager bowed again, searching Webb's eyes for a last sign. He found none and turned quickly, nervously, and headed back to his office.

Do the unexpected. Confuse the enemy, throw him off balance... Jason Bourne. Or was it Alexander Conklin?

'It is a most desirable room, sir!' exclaimed the relieved clerk. 'You will be most pleased. '

'Mr Liang is very accommodating,' said David. 'I should show my appreciation, as, indeed, I will, for your help.' Webb

took out his leather money clip and unobtrusively removed an American $20 bill. He extended a handshake, the bill concealed. 'When does Mr Liang leave for the day?'

The bewildered but overjoyed young man glanced to his right and left, speaking as he did so in disjointed phrases. 'Yes! You are most kind, sir. It is not necessary, sir, but thank you, sir. Mr Liang leaves his office every afternoon at five o'clock. I, too, leave at that hour. I would stay, of course, if our management requested, for I try very hard to do the best I can for the honour of the hotel. '

'I'm sure you do,' said Webb.' 'And most capably. My key, please. My luggage will arrive later due to a switch in flights. '

'Of course, sir!'

David sat in the chair by the tinted window looking across the harbour at the island of Hong Kong. Names came to him, accompanied by images - Causeway Bay, Wanchai, Repulse Bay, Aberdeen, The Mandarin, and finally, so clear in the distance, Victoria Peak with its awesome view of the entire colony. Then he saw in his mind's eye the masses of humanity meshing through the jammed, colourful, frequently filthy streets, and the crowded hotel lobbies and lounges with their softly lit chandeliers of gold filigree where the well-dressed remnants of the empire reluctantly mingled with the emerging Chinese entrepreneurs - the old crown and the new money had to find accommodation... Alleyways? For some reason thronged and run-down alleyways came into focus. Figures raced through the narrow thoroughfares, crashing into cages of small screeching birds and writhing snakes of various sizes - wares of peddlers on the lowest rungs of the territory's ladder of commerce. Men and women of all ages, from children to ancients, were dressed in rags, and pungent, heavy smoke curled slowly upward, filling the space between the decaying buildings, diffusing the light, heightening the gloom of the dark stone walls blackened by use and misuse. He saw it all and it all had meaning for him, but he did not understand. Specifics eluded him; he had no points of reference and it was maddening.

Marie was out there. He had to find her! He sprang up from the chair in frustration, wanting to pound his head to

clear the confusion, but he knew it would not help - nothing helped, only time and he could not stand the strain of time. He had to find her, hold her, protect her - as she had once protected him by believing in him when he had not believed in himself. He passed the mirror above the bureau and looked at his haggard, pale face. One thing was clear. He had to plan and act quickly, but not as the man he saw in the glass. He had to bring into play everything he had learned and forgotten as Jason Bourne. From somewhere within him he had to summon the elusive past and trust unremembered instincts.

He had taken the first step; the connection was solid, he knew that. One way or another, Liang would provide him with something, probably the lowest level of information, but it would be a beginning - a name, a place, or a drop, an initial contact that would lead to another and still another. What he had to do was to move quickly with whatever he was given, not giving his enemy time to manoeuvre, backing whomever he reached into positions of deliver-and-survive or be-silent-and-die - and mean it. But to accomplish anything he had to be prepared. Items had to be purchased and a tour of the colony arranged. He wanted an hour or so of observing from the back seat of an automobile, dredging up whatever he could from his damaged memory.

He picked up a large red leather hotel directory, sat on the edge of the bed and opened it, thumbing through the pages rapidly. The New World Shopping Centre, a magnificent 5 storeyed open complex bringing under one roof the finest goods from the 4 corners of the earth... Hyperbole notwithstanding, the 'complex' was adjacent to the hotel; it would do for his purposes. Limousines available. From our fleet of Daimler motor cars arrangements can be made by the hour or the day for business or sightseeing. Please contact the Concierge. Dial 62. Limousines also meant experienced chauffeurs knowledgeable in the ways of the confusing streets, backstreets, roads and traffic patterns of Hong Kong, Kowloon and the New Territories, and knowledgeable in other ways, too. Such men knew the ins and outs and lower depths of the cities they served. Unless he was mistaken, and instinct told him he was not, an additional need would be

covered. He had to have a gun. Finally, there was a bank in Hong Kong's Central District that had certain arrangements with a sister institution thousands of miles away in the Cayman Islands. He had to walk into that bank, sign whatever was required of him, and walk out with more money than any sane man would carry on his person in Hong Kong, or anywhere else, for that matter. He would find some place to conceal it but not in a bank where business hours restricted its availability. Jason Bourne knew: Promise a man his life and he will usually co-operate; promise him his life and a great deal of money and the cumulative effect will lead to total submission.

David reached for the message pad and pencil next to the phone on the bedside table; he started another list. The little things loomed larger with every hour that passed, and he did not have that many hours left. It was almost eleven o'clock. The harbour now glistened in the near-noon sun. He had so many things to do before 4: 30, when he intended to station himself unobtrusively somewhere near the employees' exit, or down inside the hotel garage, or wherever he learned he could follow and trap the waxen-faced Liang, his first connection.

Three minutes later his list was complete. He tore off the page, got up from the bed and reached for his jacket on the desk chair. Suddenly the telephone rang, piercing the quiet of the hotel room. He had to close his eyes, clenching every muscle in his arms and stomach so as not to leap for it, hoping beyond hope for the sound of Marie's voice, even as a captive. He must not pick up the phone. Instinct. Jason Bourne. He had no controls. If he answered the phone, he would be the one controlled. He let it ring as he walked in anguish across the room and went out the door.

It was ten minutes past noon when he returned carrying a number of thin plastic bags from various stores in the Shopping Centre. He dropped them on the bed and began removing his purchases. Among the articles were a dark lightweight raincoat and a dark canvas hat, a pair of grey sneakers, black trousers and a sweater, also black; these were the clothes he would wear at night. Then there were other items: a spool of 75-pound tested fishing line with two palm-

sized eyehooks through which a three-foot section of line would be looped and secured at both ends, a 20-ounce paperweight in the shape of a miniature brass barbell, one ice pick, and a sheathed, highly sharpened, double-edged hunting knife with a narrow 4-inch blade. These were the silent weapons he would carry both night and day. One more item remained to be found; he would find it.

As he examined his purchases, his concentration narrowing down to the eyehooks and the fishing line, he became aware of a tiny, subtle blinking of light. Start, stop... start, stop. It was annoying because he could not find the source, and, as happened so often, he had to wonder if there actually was a source or whether the intrusion was simply an aberration of his mind. Then his eyes were drawn to the bedside table; sunlight streamed in the harbour windows, washing over the telephone, but the pulsating light was there in the lower left-hand corner of the instrument - barely visible, but there. It was the message signal, a small red dot that shone for a second, went dark for a second, and then resumed its signalling at those intervals. A message was not a call, he reflected. He went to the table, studied the instructions on the plastic card and picked up the phone; he pressed the appropriate button.