The Bourne Supremacy (23 page)

again assumed his stooped appearance and climbed up into the street. Three guards and a head-head man. He knew what he had to do, and it had to be done quickly. It was 9: 36. A taipan for a wife.

He found the first guard talking to the fishmonger, talking anxiously with sharp, stabbing gestures. The noise of the crowd was an impediment. The vendor kept shaking his head. Bourne chose a heavy-set man near the guard; he rushed forward shoving the unsuspecting onlooker into the guard and sidestepped as the taipan's man recoiled. In the brief melee that erupted, Jason pulled the bewildered guard aside, hammered his knuckles into the base of the man's throat, twisted him as he began to fall and slashed his rigid hand across the back of the guard's neck at the top of the spine. He dragged the unconscious man across the pavement, apologizing to the crowd in Chinese for his drunken friend. He dropped the guard in the remains of a storefront, took the radio and smashed it.

The taipan's second man required no such tactics. He was off to the side of the crowd by himself, shouting into his radio. Bourne approached, his sorry figure presenting no threat, and he held out his hand, as if he were a beggar. The guard waved him away; it was the last gesture he would remember, for Bourne gripped his wrist, twisted it, and broke the man's arm. Fourteen seconds later the taipan's second guard lay in the shadows of a mound of garbage, his radio thrown into the debris.

The third guard was in conference with the 'snake bitch'. To Bourne's satisfaction, she, too, kept shaking her head as the fishmonger had done; there was a certain loyalty in the Walled City where bribes were concerned. The man pulled out his radio, but had no chance to use it. Jason ran up to him, grabbed the ancient, toothless cobra and thrust its flat head into the man's face. His wide-eyed gasp, accompanied by a scream, was all the reaction Jason Bourne needed. The nerves in the throat are a magnificent network of immobilizing, cordlike fibres connecting the body organs to the central nervous system. Bourne played upon them swiftly, and once again dragged his victim through the crowd, apologizing

profusely as he left the unconscious guard on a dark patch of concrete. He held the radio up to his ear; there was nothing on the receiver. It was 9: 40. One head-head man remained.

The small, middle-aged Chinese in the expensive suit and polished shoes all but held his nose as he raced from one point to another trying to spot his men, reluctant to make the slightest physical contact with the hordes gathered around the vendors' stalls and tables. His lack of height made it hard for him to see. Bourne watched where he was heading, ran ahead of him, then quickly turned around and sent his fist crashing into the executive's lower abdomen. As the Chinese buckled over, Jason reached around the man's waist with his left arm, picked him up and carried the limp figure to a section of the kerb where two men sat, weaving, passing a bottle back and forth. He placed a Wushu chop across the banker's neck and dropped him between his new companions. Through their haze the drunken men would make sure their new associate stayed unconscious for a considerable length of time. There were pockets to ransack, clothes and a pair of shoes to be removed. All would bring a price, whatever cash there was a bonus for their labours. 9: 43.

Bourne no longer stooped, gone was the chameleon. He rushed across the street overflowing with humanity and raced down the steps and into the alley. He had done it! He had removed the Praetorian Guard. A taipan for a wife! He reached the staircase - the third staircase in the right wall -and yanked out the remarkable weapon he had purchased from an arms merchant in the Mongkok. As quietly as he could manage, testing each step with a foot, he climbed to the second level. He braced himself outside the door, balanced his weight, lifted his left leg and smashed it into the thin wood.

The door crashed open. He sprang through and crouched, the weapon extended.

Three men faced him, forming a semicircle, each with a gun aimed at his head. Behind them, dressed in a white silk suit, a huge Chinese sat in a chair. The man nodded to his guards.

He had lost. Bourne had miscalculated and David Webb would die. Far more excruciating, he knew Marie's death

would soon follow. Let them fire, thought David. Pull the triggers that would mercifully put him out of it! He had killed the only thing that mattered in his life. 'Shoot, goddamn you! Shoot?

11

'Welcome, Mr Bourne,' said the large man in the white silk suit, waving his guards aside. 'I assume you see the logic of putting your gun on the floor and pushing it away from you. There's really no alternative, you know. '

Webb looked at the three Chinese; the man in the centre cracked the hammer back on his automatic. David lowered the gun and shoved it forward. 'You expected me, didn't you? he asked quietly, getting to his feet as the guard on his right picked up the weapon.

'We didn't know what to expect - except the unexpected. How did you do it? Are my people dead?5

'No. They're bruised and unconscious, not dead. '

'Remarkable. You thought I was alone here?

'I was told you travelled with your head man and three others, not six. I thought it was logical. Any more it seemed to me would be conspicuous. '

'That's why these men came early to make arrangements and have not left this hole since they arrived. So you thought you could take me, exchange me for your wife. '

'It's obvious that she didn't have a damn thing to do with it. Let her go; she can't hurt you. Kill me but let her go.

'Pi ge!' said the banker, ordering two of the guards out of the flat; they bowed and left quickly. 'This man will remain,' he continued, turning back to Webb. 'Apart from the immense loyalty he has for me he doesn't speak or understand a word of English. '

'I see you trust your people. '

'I trust no one.' The financier gestured at a dilapidated wooden chair across the shabby room, revealing as he did so a gold Rolex on his wrist, diamonds encrusted around its dial matching his bejewelled gold cufflinks. 'Sit down,' he ordered. 'I've gone to great lengths and spent much money to bring about this conference. '

'Your head man - I assume it was your head man,' said Bourne aimlessly, studying every detail of the room as he walked over to the chair, 'told me not to wear an expensive watch down here. I guess you didn't listen to him. '

'I arrived in a soiled, filthy kaftan with sleeves wide enough to conceal it. As I look at your clothes, I'm certain the Chameleon understands. '

'You're Yao Ming.' Webb sat down.

'It is a name I've used, you surely understand that. The Chameleon goes by many shapes and colours. '

'I didn't kill your wife - or the man who happened to be with her. '

'I know that, Mr Webb... '

'You what?' David shot up from the chair, as the guard took a rapid step forward, his gun levelled.

'Sit down,' repeated the banker. 'Don't alarm my devoted friend or we both may regret it, you far more than me. '

'You knew it wasn't me and still you've done this to us!'

'Sit quickly, please. '

'I want an answer? said Webb, sitting down.

'Because you are the true Jason Bourne. That is why you are here, why your wife remains in my custody, and will remain so until you accomplish what I ask of you. '

'I talked to her. '

'I know you did. I permitted it. '

'She didn't sound like herself - even considering the circumstances. She's strong, stronger than I was during those lousy weeks in Switzerland and Paris. Something's wrong with her! Is she drugged?'

'Certainly not. '

'Is she hurt?

'In spirit, perhaps, but not in any other way. However, she

will be hurt and she will die, if you refuse me. Can I be clearer?

'You're dead, taipan. '

'The true Bourne speaks. That's very good. It's what I need. '

'Spell it out. '

'I am being hounded by someone in your name,' began the taipan, his voice hard, his intensity mounting. 'Far more severely - may the spirits forgive me - than the loss of a young wife. From all sides in all areas, the terrorist, this new Jason Bourne, attacks! He kills my people, blows up shipments of valuable merchandise, threatens other taipans with death if they do business with me! His exorbitant fees come from my enemies here in Hong Kong and Macao, and up the Deep Bay water routes north into the provinces themselves!'

'You have a lot of enemies. '

'My interests are extensive. '

'So, I was told, were those of the man I didn't kill in Macao. '

'Oddly enough,' said the banker, breathing hard and gripping the arm of his chair in an effort to control himself, 'he and I were not enemies. In certain areas our interests converged. It's how he met my wife. '

'How convenient. Shared assets, as it were. '

'You are offensive. '

They're not my rules,' replied Bourne, his eyes cold, levelled at the Oriental. 'Get to the point. My wife's alive and I want her back without a mark on her or a voice raised against her. If she's harmed in any way whatsoever, you and your Zhongguo ren won't be any match for what I'll mount against you. '

'You are not in a position to make threats, Mr Webb. '

'Webb isn't,' agreed the once most hunted man in Asia and Europe. 'Bourne is. '

The Oriental looked hard at Jason, nodding twice as his eyes dropped below Webb's gaze. 'Your audacity matches your arrogance. To the point. It's very simple, very clear cut.' The taipan suddenly clenched his right hand into a fist, then raised it and crashed it down on the fragile arm of the decrepit

chair. 'I want proof against my enemies!' he shouted, his angry eyes peering out behind two partially closed walls of swollen flesh. The only way I'll get it is for you to bring me this all too credible impostor who takes your place! I want him facing me, watching me as he feels his life leaving him in agony until he tells me everything I must know. Bring him to me, Jason Bourne!' The banker breathed deeply, then added quietly. 'Then, and only then, will you be reunited with your wife. '

Webb stared at the taipan in silence. 'What makes you think I can do it? he said finally.

'Who better to trap a pretender than the original. '

'Words,' said Webb. 'Meaningless. '

'He's studied you! He's analysed your methods, your techniques. He could not pass himself off as you if he had not. Find him! Trap him with the tactics you yourself created. '

'Just like that?

'You'll have help. Several names and descriptions, men I am convinced are involved with this new killer who uses an old name. '

'Over in Macao?

'Never! It must not be Macao! There's to be no mention, no reference whatsoever to the incident at the Lisboa Hotel. It is closed, finished; you know nothing about it. In no way can my person be associated with what you are doing. You have nothing to do with me! If you surface, you are hunting a man who has assumed your mantle. You are protecting yourself, defending yourself. A perfectly natural thing to do under the circumstances. '

'I thought you wanted proof-'

'It will come when you bring me the impostor? shouted the taipan.

'If not Macao, where then?

'Here in Kowloon. In the Tsim Sha Tsui. Five men were slain in the back room of a cabaret, among them a banker -like myself, a taipan,. my associate from time to time and no less influential - as well as three others whose identities were concealed; apparently it was a government decision. I've never found out who they were. '

'But you know who the fifth man was,' said Bourne.

'He worked for me. He took my place at that meeting. Had I been there myself, your namesake would have killed me. This is where you will start, here in Kowloon, in the Tsim Sha Tsui. I will give you the names of the two known dead and the identities of many men who were the enemies of both, now my enemies. Move quickly. Find the man who kills in your name and bring him to me. And a last warning, Mr Bourne. Should you try to find out who I am the order will be swift, the execution swifter. Your wife will die. '

'Then so will you. Give me the names. '

'They're on this paper,' said the man who used the name' Yao Ming, reaching into the pocket of his white silk vest. 'They were typed by a public stenographer at The Mandarin. There would be no point in trying to trace a specific typewriter. '

'A waste of time,' said Bourne, taking the sheet of paper. There must be twenty million typewriters in Hong Kong. '

'But not so many taipans of my size and girth, eh?

That I'll remember. '

'I'm sure you will. '

'How do I reach you?'

'You don't. Ever. This meeting never took place. '

Then why did it? Why did everything that's happened take place? Say I manage to find and take this cretin who calls himself Bourne - and it's a damn big if - what do I do with him? Leave him on the steps outside here in the Walled City?'

'It could be a splendid idea. Drugged, no one would pay the slightest attention beyond rifling his pockets. '

'I'd pay a lot of attention. A prize for a prize, taipan. I want an ironclad guarantee. I want my wife back. '

'What would you consider such a guarantee?'

'First her voice on the phone convincing me she's unharmed, and then I want to see her - say, walking up and down a street under her own power with no one near her. '

'Jason Bourne speaks?

'He speaks. '

'Very well. We've developed a high technology industry here in Hong Kong, ask anyone in the electronics business in

your country. On the bottom of that page is a telephone number. When and if - and only when and if - the impostor is in your hands call that number and repeat the words "snake lady" several times-'

'Medusa] whispered Jason, interrupting. 'Airborne. '

The taipan arched his brows, his expression noncommittal. 'Naturally, I was referring to the woman in the bazaar. '

'Like hell you were. Go on. '

'As I say, repeat the words several times until you hear clicks-'

'Triggering another number, or numbers,' broke in Bourne again.

'Something to do with the sounds of the phrase, I believe,' agreed the taipan. 'The sibilant s, followed by a flat vowel and hard consonants. Ingenious, wouldn't you say?'