The Bourne Supremacy (26 page)

'All right, my dear,' said the woman, taking several steps from the door. 'You have touched me, I will not deny that. But I have my orders - very specific instructions about you. The major and your doctor have left. Now, what is it you wanted to tell me?'

'Not... now,' whispered Marie, her head sinking into her chin, her face more asleep than awake. 'I'm so tired. I took... the pill. '

'Is it the guard outside?"

'He's sick... He never touches me -1 don't care. He gets me things... I'm so tired. '

'What do you mean, "sick'?'

'He... likes to look at women... He doesn't... bother me when I'm... asleep.' Marie's eyes closed, the lids full.

'Zang? said the nurse under her breath. 'Dirty, dirty!' She

spun on her heels, walked out the door, closed it, and addressed the guard. The woman is asleep! Do you understand me!'

That is most heavenly fortunate. '

'She says you never touch her!'

'I never even thought about it. '

'Don't think about it now!'

'I do not need lectures from you, hag nurse. I have a job to do. '

'See that you do it! I will speak to Major Lin in the morning!' The woman glared at the man and walked down the corridor, her pace and her posture aggressive.

'You!' The harsh whisper came from Marie's door which was slightly ajar. She opened it an inch farther and spoke. That nurse! Who is she?'

'I thought you were asleep, Mrs,' said the bewildered guard.

'She told me she was going to tell you that. '

'What?'

'She's coming back for me! She says there are connecting doors to the other rooms. Who is she?'

'She what?

'Don't talk! Don't look at me! She'll see you!'

'She went down the hallway to the right. '

'You never can tell. Better a devil you know than one you don't! You know what I mean?'

'I do not know what anybody means!' pleaded the guard, talking softly, emphatically, to the opposite wall. 'I do not know what she means and I do not know what you mean, lady!'

'Come inside. Quickly] I think she's a communist! From Peking!'

'Beijing?'

'I won't go with her!' Marie pulled back the door, then spun behind it.

The guard rushed in as the door slammed shut. The room was dark; only the light in the bathroom was on, its glow diminished by the bathroom door, which was nearly closed. The man could be seen, but he could not see. 'Where are you,

Mrs? Be calm. She will not take you anywhere---'

The guard was not capable of saying anything further. Marie had crashed the iron handle across the base of his skull with the strength of an Ontario ranch girl quite used to the bullwhip in a cattle drive. The guard collapsed; she knelt down and worked quickly.

The Chinese was muscular but not large, not tall. Marie was not large, but she was tall for a woman. With a hitch here, and a tuck there, the guard's clothes and shoes fitted reasonably well for a fast exit, but her hair was the problem. She looked around the room. Study everything. You'll find something you can use. She found it. Hanging from a chrome bar on the bedside table was a hand towel. She pulled it off, piled her hair on top of her head and wrapped the towel around it, tucking the cloth within itself. It undoubtedly looked foolish and could hardly bear close scrutiny, but it was a turban of sorts.

Stripped to his underpants and socks, the guard moaned and began to raise himself, then collapsed back into unconsciousness. Marie ran to the closet, grabbed her own clothes and went to the door, opening it cautiously no more than an inch. Two nurses - one Oriental, the other European - were talking quietly in the hallway. The Chinese was not the woman who had returned to hear her complaint about the guard. Another nurse appeared, nodded to the two, and went directly to a door across the hall. It was a linen supply closet. A telephone rang at the floor desk fifty feet down the hallway; before the circular desk was a bisecting corridor. An Exit sign hung from the ceiling, the arrow pointing to the right. The two conversing nurses turned and started towards the desk; the third left the linen closet carrying a handful of sheets. The cleanest escape is one done in stages, using whatever confusion there is.

Marie slipped out of the room and ran across the hall to the linen closet. She went inside and closed the door. Suddenly, a woman's roar of protest filled the hallway, petrifying her. She could hear heavy racing footsteps, coming closer; then more footsteps.

The guard!' yelled the Chinese nurse in English. 'Where is that dirty guard?'

Marie opened the closet door less than an inch. Three

excited nurses were in front of her hospital room; they burst inside.

'You! You took off your clothes! Zang sile dirty man! Look in the bathroom!'

'You!' yelled the guard unsteadily. 'You let her getaway! I will hold you for my superiors. '

'Let me go, filthy man! You lie!'

'You are a Communist] From Beijing?

Marie slipped out of the linen closet, a stack of towels over her shoulder, and ran to the bisecting corridor and the Exit sign.

'Call Major Lin! I've caught a Communist infiltrator?

'Call the police! He is a pervert!'

Out on the hospital grounds, Marie ran into the parking lot, into the darkest area, and sat breathless in the shadows between two cars. She had to think; she had to appraise the situation. She could not make any mistakes. She dropped the towels and her clothes and began going through the guard's pockets, looking for a wallet or a billfold. She found it, opened it, and counted the money in the dim light. There was slightly more than $600 Hong Kong, which was slightly less than $100 American. It was barely enough for a hotel room; then she saw a credit card issued by a Kowloon bank. Don't leave home without it. If she had to, she would present the card - if she had to, and if she could find a hotel room. She removed the money and the plastic card, put the wallet back into the pocket, and began the awkward process of changing clothes while studying the streets beyond the hospital grounds. To her relief they were crowded, and those crowds were her immediate security.

A car suddenly raced into the parking lot, its tyres screeching as it careened in front of the Emergency door. Marie rose and looked through the automobile windows. The heavy-set Chinese major and the cold, precise doctor leaped out of the car and raced towards the entrance. As they disappeared through the doors, Marie ran out of the parking lot and into the street.

108

She walked for hours, stopping to gorge herself at a fast food restaurant until she could not stand the sight of another hamburger. She went to the ladies' room and looked at herself in the mirror. She had lost weight and there were dark circles under her eyes, yet withal, she was herself. But the damned hair! They would be scouring Hong Kong for her, and the first items of any description would be her height and her hair. She could do little about the former, but she could drastically modify the latter. She stopped at a pharmacy and bought bobby pins and several clasps. Then remembering what Jason had asked her' to do in Paris when her photograph appeared in the newspapers, she pulled her hair back, securing it into a bun, and pinned both sides close to her head. The result was a much harsher face, heightened by the loss of weight and no makeup. It was the effect Jason - David - had wanted in Paris... No, she reflected, it was not David in Paris. It was Jason Bourne. And it was night, as it had been in Paris.

'Why you do that, miss?' asked a clerk standing near the mirror at the cosmetics counter. 'You have such pretty hair, very beautiful. '

'Oh? I'm tired of brushing it, that's all. '

Marie left the pharmacy, bought flat sandals from a vendor on the street, and an imitation Gucci bag from another - the G's were upside down. She had $45 American left and no idea where she would spend the night. It was both too late and too soon to go to the consulate. A Canadian arriving after midnight asking for a roster of personnel would send out alarms; also she had not had time to figure out how to make the request. Where could she got She needed sleep. Don't make your moves when you're tired or exhausted. The margin for error is too great. Rest is a weapon. Don't forget it.

She passed an arcade that was closing up. A young American couple in blue jeans were bargaining with the owner of a T-shirt stand.

'Hey, come on, man,' said the youthful male. 'You want to make just one more sale tonight, don't you? I mean, so you

cut your profit a bit, but it's still a few dineros in your pocket, right?

'No dineros,' cried the merchant, smiling. 'Only dollars, and you offer too few! I have children. You take the precious food from their mouths!'

'He probably owns a restaurant,' said the girl.

'You want restaurant? Authentic-real Chinese food?"

'Jesus, you're right, Lacy!'

'My third cousin on my father's side has an exquisite stand two streets from here. Very near, very cheap, very good. '

'Forget it,' said the boy. 'Four bucks, US, for the six T's. Take it or leave it. '

'I take. Only because you are too strong for me.' The merchant grabbed the proffered bills and shoved the T-shirts into a paper bag.

'You're a wonder, Buzz.' The girl kissed him on the cheek and laughed. 'He's still working on a four hundred per cent markup. '

That's the trouble with you business majors! You don't consider the aesthetics. The smell of the hunt, the pleasure of the verbal conflict!'

'If we ever get married, I'll be supporting you for the rest of my miserable life, you great negotiator. '

Opportunities will present themselves. Recognize them, act on them. Marie approached the two students.

'Excuse me,' she said, speaking primarily to the girl. 'I overheard you talking-'

'Wasn't I terrific?' broke in the young man.

'Very agile,' replied Marie. 'But I suspect your friend has a point. Those T-shirts undoubtedly cost him less than twenty-five cents apiece.

'Four hundred per cent,' said the girl, nodding.' Keystone should be so lucky.'

'Key who?'

'A jeweller's term,' explained Marie.' It's one hundred per cent. '

'I'm surrounded by philistines!' cried the young man. 'I'm an Art History major. Someday I'll run the Metropolitan!'

'Just don't try to buy it,' said the girl, turning to Marie. 'I'm

sorry, we're not flakes, we're just having fun. We interrupted you. '

'It's most embarrassing, really, but my plane was a day late and I missed my tour into China. The hotel is full and I wondered-'

'You need a place to crash? interrupted the Art History student.

'Yes, I do. Frankly my funds are adequate but limited. I'm a schoolteacher from Maine - economics, I'm afraid. '

'Don't be,' said the girl, smiling.

'I'm joining my tour tomorrow, but I'm afraid that's tomorrow, not tonight. '

'We can help you, can't we, Lacy?

'I'm sure we can. Our college has an arrangement with the Chinese University of Hong Kong. '

'It's not much on room service but the price is right,' said the young man. 'Three bucks, US, a night. But, holy roller, are they antediluvian!'

'He means there's a certain puritan code over here. The sexes are separated. '

'"Boys and girls together-'" sang the Art History major. 'Like hell they are!' he added.

Marie sat on the campbed in the huge room under a 50-foot ceiling; she assumed it was a gymnasium. All around her young women were asleep and not asleep. Most were silent, but a few snored, others lighted cigarettes, and there were sporadic lurchings towards the bathroom, where the fluorescent lights remained on. She was among children, and she wished she were a child now, free of the terrors that were everywhere. David, I need you! You think I'm so strong, but, darling, I can't cope! What do I do? How do I do it!

Study everything, you'll find something you can use. Jason Bourne.

13

The rain was torrential, pitting the sand, snapping into the floodlights that lit up the grotesque statuary of Repulse Bay -reproductions of enormous Chinese gods, angry myths of the Orient in furious poses, some rising as high as 30 feet. The dark beach was deserted, but there were crowds in the old hotel up by the road and the anachronistic hamburger shop across the way. They were strollers and drop-ins, tourists and islanders alike who had come down to the bay for a late-night drink or something to eat and to look out at the forbidding statues repelling whatever malign spirits might at any moment emerge from the sea. The sudden downpour had forced the strollers inside; others waited for the storm to let up before heading home.

Drenched, Bourne crouched in the foliage 20 feet from the base of a fierce-looking idol halfway down the beach. He wiped the rain from his face as he stared at the concrete steps that led to the entrance of the old Colonial Hotel. He was waiting for the third name on the taipan's list.

The first man had tried to trap him on the Star Ferry, the agreed-upon meeting ground, but Jason, wearing the same clothes he had worn at the Walled City, had spotted the man's two stalking patrols. It was not as easy as looking for men with radios but it had not been difficult either. By the third trip across the harbour, Bourne not having appeared at the

appointed window on the starboard side, the same two men had passed by his contact twice, each speaking briefly and each going to opposite positions, their eyes fixed on their superior. Jason had waited until the ferry approached the pier and the passengers started en masse towards the exit ramp in the bow. He had taken out the Chinese on the right with a blow to the kidneys as he passed him in the crowd, then struck the back of the man's head with the heavy brass paperweight; the passengers rushed by in the dim light. Bourne then walked through the emptying benches to the other side; he faced the second man, jammed his gun into the patrol's stomach and marched him to the stern. He arched the man above the railing and shoved him overboard as the ship's whistle blew in the night and the ferry pulled into the Kowloon pier. He then returned to his contact by the deserted window at midship.