The Bourne Supremacy (48 page)

Five minutes later, having beached the small boat, the three men walked through the thick shorefront foliage, suddenly replaced by scrubby trees. The 'friend' had constructed a primitive lean-to out of a ship's tarpaulin; a small fire faced the dense woods in front, unseen from the sides and the rear, concealed by the tarp. The warmth was welcome; the winds and the drenching rain had chilled Bourne and d'Anjou. They sat cross-legged around the fire and the Frenchman spoke to the uniformed Chinese.

This was hardly necessary, Gamma-'

'Gamma?' erupted Jason.

'I've implemented certain traditions of our past, Delta. Actually, I could have used Tango or Fox Trot - it wasn't all Greek, you know. The Greek was reserved for the leaders.'

'This is a bullshit conversation. I want to know why we're here. Why you haven't paid him so we can get the hell out?'

'Man ...!' said the Chinese, drawing out the word, using the particular American idiom. This cat's uptight! What's his beef?'

'My beef, man, is that I want to get back to that boat. I really don't have time for tea!'

'How about Scotch?' said the officer of the People's Republic, reaching behind him, pulling his arm forward and displaying a bottle of perfectly acceptable whisky. 'We'll have to share the cork, as it were, but I don't think we're infectious people. We bathe, we brush our teeth, we sleep with clean whores - at least my heavenly government makes sure they're clean.'

'Who the hell are you?' asked Jason Bourne.

'Gamma will do, Echo's convinced me of that. As to what I am, I leave that to your imagination. You might try USC -that's the University of Southern California - with graduate studies in Berkeley - all those protests in the sixties, surely you remember them.'

'You were a part of that crowd?'

'Certainly not! I was a staunch conservative, a member of the John Birch Society who wanted them all shot! Screeching freaks with no regard for their nation's moral commitments.'

'This is a bullshit conversation.'

'My friend Gamma,' interrupted d'Anjou, 'is the perfect intermediary. He is an educated double or triple or conceivably quadruple agent working all sides for the benefit of his own interests. He is the totally amoral man and I respect him for that.'

'You came back to China? To the People's Republic?'

'It's where the money was,' admitted the officer. 'Any repressive society offers vast opportunities for those willing to take minor risks on behalf of the repressed. Ask the commissars in Moscow and the Eastern bloc. Of course, one must have contacts in the West and possess certain talents that can also serve the regimental leaders. Fortunately, I'm an exceptional sailor, courtesy of friends in the Bay Area who owned yachts and small motor craft. I'll return one day. I really do like San Francisco.'

'Don't try to fathom his Swiss accounts,' said d'Anjou. 'Instead, let's concentrate on why Gamma has made us such a pleasant retreat in the rainstorm.' The Frenchman took the bottle and drank.

'It will cost you, Echo,' said the Chinese.

'With you what doesn't? What is it?' D'Anjou passed the bottle to Jason.

'I may speak in front of your companion?'

'Anything.'

'You'll want the information. I guarantee it. The price is one thousand American.'

That's it?'

'It should be enough,' said the Chinese officer taking the bottle of Scotch from Bourne. There are two of you and my patrol boat is half a mile away in the south cove. My crew thinks I'm holding a secret meeting with our undercover people in the colony.'

'I'll want the information, and you'll guarantee it.' For those words I'm to produce a thousand dollars without a struggle when it's entirely possible you have a dozen Zhongguo ren outside in the bush.'

'Some things must be taken on faith.'

'Not my money,' countered the Frenchman. 'You don't get a sou until I have an idea what you're selling.'

'You are Gallic to the core,' said Gamma, shaking his head. 'Very well. It concerns your disciple, the one who no longer follows his master but instead picks up his thirty pieces of silver and a great deal more.'

The assassin!'

'Pay him!' ordered Bourne, rigid, staring at the Chinese officer.

D'Anjou looked at Jason and the man called Gamma, then pulled up his sweater and unbuckled his soaking wet trousers. He reached below his waist and forced up an oilcloth money belt; he unzipped the centre pocket, slipped out the bills one after another with his fingers and held them out for the Chinese officer. 'Three thousand for tonight and one for this new information. The rest is counterfeit. I always carry an extra thousand for contingencies, but only a thousand-' 'The information? broke in Jason Bourne. 'He paid for it,' replied Gamma. 'I shall address him.' 'Address whomever the hell you like, just talk.' 'Our mutual friend in Guangzhou - Canton-' began the officer, speaking to d'Anjou. The radioman at Headquarters

One.'

'We've done business,' said the Frenchman guardedly.

'Knowing I'd be meeting you here at this hour I refuelled at the pumps in Zhuhai Shi shortly after ten-thirty. There was a message for me to reach him - we have a safe relay. He told me a call was rerouted through Beijing with an unidentified Jade Tower priority code. It was for Soo Jiang-'

D'Anjou bolted forward, both hands on the ground. The Pig!'

'Who is he?' asked Bourne quickly.

'Supposedly Chief of Intelligence for Macao operations,' replied the Frenchman, 'but he would sell his mother to a brothel if the price were right. At the moment he is the conduit to my once and former disciple. My Judas!'

'Who's suddenly been summoned to Beijing,' interrupted the man called Gamma.

'You're sure of that?' said Jason.

'Our mutual friend is sure,' answered the Chinese, still looking at d'Anjou. 'An aide to Soo came to Headquarters One and checked all tomorrow's flights from Kai Tak to Beijing. Under his department's authorization he reserved space - a single space - on every one. In several cases it meant that an original passenger was reduced to stand-by status. When an officer at Headquarters One asked for Soo's personal confirmation, the aide said he had left for Macao on urgent business. Who has business in Macao at midnight? Everything's closed.'

'Except the casinos,' volunteered Bourne. Table Five. The Kam Pek. Totally controlled circumstances.'

'Which, in view of the reserved spaces,' said the

Frenchman, 'means that Soo isn't sure when he will reach the assassin.'

'But he is sure he'll reach him. Whatever message he's carrying is nothing short of an order that has to be complied with.' Jason looked at the Chinese officer. 'Get us into Beijing,' he said. The airport, the earliest flight. You'll be rich, I guarantee it.'

'Delta, you're mad? cried d'Anjou. 'Peking is out of the question!'

'Why? No one's looking for us and there are French, English, Italians, Americans - God knows who else - all over the city. We've both got passports that'll get us through.'

'Be reasonable!' pleaded Echo. 'We'll be in their nets. Knowing what we know, if we're spotted in the vaguest questionable circumstances we'll be killed on the spot! He'll show up again down here, most likely in a matter of days.'

'I don't have days,' said Bourne coldly. 'I've lost your creation twice. I'm not going to lose him a third time.'

'You think you can possibly take him in China?

'Where else would he least expect a trap?'

'Madness! You are mad!'

'Make the arrangements,' Jason ordered the Chinese officer. The first flight out of Kai Tak. When I've got the tickets I'll hand over fifty thousand dollars American to whomever gives them to me. Send someone you can trust.'

'Fifty thousand...?' The man called Gamma stared at Bourne.

The skies over Peking were hazy, the dust travelling on the winds from the North China Plains creating pockets of vapid yellows and dull browns in the sunlight. The airport, like all internationals, was immense, the runways a criss-crossing patchwork of black avenues, several over two miles in length. If there was a difference between Peking airport and its Western counterparts, it was in the huge dome-shaped terminal with its adjacent hotel and various freeways leading into the complex. Although contemporary in design there was an underlying sense of function and an absence of eye-pleasing touches. It was an airport to be used and admired for its efficiency, not for its beauty.

Bourne and d'Anjou went through customs with a minimum of effort, the way eased for them by their fluent Chinese. The guards were actually pleasant, barely glancing at their minimal luggage, more curious about their linguistic ability than their possessions. The chief official accepted without question the story of two Oriental scholars on a holiday from which pleasant tales of travel would no doubt find their way into the lecture halls. They converted a thousand dollars each into renminbi, literally the People's Money, and were given nearly two thousand Yuan apiece in return. And Bourne took off the glasses he had purchased in Washington from his friend Cactus.

'One thing bewilders me,' said the Frenchman as they stood in front of an electronic sign showing the next three hours of arrivals and departures. 'Why would he be flown in on a commercial plane? Certainly, whoever is paying him has government or military aircraft at his disposal.'

'Like ours, those aircraft have to be signed out and accounted for,' answered Jason. 'And whoever it is has to keep his distance from your assassin. He comes in as a tourist or a businessman and then the convoluted process of making contact begins. At least that's what I'm counting on.'

'Madness! Tell me, Delta, if you do take him - and I add that it's a significant "if because he's extraordinarily capable - have you any idea how to get him out?

'I've got money, American money, large bills, more than you can imagine. It's in the lining of my jacket.'

'That's why we stopped at the Peninsula, isn't it? Why you told me not to check you out yesterday. Your money's there.'

'It was. In the hotel safe. I'll get him out.'

'On the wings of, Pegasus?'

'No, probably a Pan Am flight with the two of us helping a very sick friend. Actually, somewhere along the line I think you gave me the idea.'

Then I am a mental case!'

'Stay by the window,' said Bourne. There's another twelve minutes before the next plane is due from Kai Tak, but then that could mean two minutes or twelve hours. I'm going to

buy us both a present.'

'Madness,' mumbled the Frenchman, too tired to do more than shake his head.

When Jason returned he directed d'Anjou into a corner within sight of the immigration doors, which were kept closed except when passengers were emerging from customs. Bourne reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a long, thin brightly covered box with the sort of gaudy wrapping found in souvenir shops the world over. He removed the top; inside on ersatz felt was a narrow brass letter-opener with Chinese characters along the handle. The point was obviously honed and sharp. Take it,' said Jason. 'Put it in your belt.'

'How's the balance?' asked Medusa's Echo as he slid the blade under his trousers.

'Not bad. It's about halfway to the base of the handle and the brass gives it weight. The thrust should be decent.'

'Yes, I recall,' said d'Anjou. 'One of the first rules was never to throw a knife, but one evening at dusk you watched a Gurkha take out a scout ten feet away without firing a shot or risking hand-to-hand combat. His carbine bayonet spun through the air like a whirling missile, right into the scout's chest. The next morning you ordered the Gurkha to teach us - some did better than others.'

'How did you do?'

'Reasonably well. I was older than all of you and felt drawn to whatever defences I could learn that did not take great physical exertion. Also I kept practising. You saw me; you commented on it frequently.'

Jason looked at the Frenchman. 'It's funny, but I don't remember any of that.'

'I just naturally thought ... I'm sorry, Delta.'

'Forget it. I'm learning to trust things I don't understand.'

The vigil continued, reminding Bourne of his wait in Lo Wu as one trainload after another crossed the border, no one revealed until a short, elderly man with a limp became someone else in the distance. The 11:30 plane was over two hours late. Customs would take an additional fifty minutes...

'That one!' cried d'Anjou, pointing to a figure walking out of the immigration doors.

'With a cane?' asked Jason. 'With a limp?'

'His shabby clothes cannot conceal his shoulders!' exclaimed Echo. The grey hair is too new; he hasn't brushed it sufficiently, and the dark glasses too wide. Like us, he is tired. You were right. The summons to Beijing had to be complied with and he is careless.'

'Because "rest is a weapon" and he disregarded it?'

'Yes. Last night Kai Tak must have taken its toll on him, but more important he had to obey. Merde! His fees must be in the hundreds of thousands!'

'He's heading for the hotel,' said Bourne. 'Stay back here, I'll follow him - at a distance. If he spotted you, he'd run and we could lose him.'

'He could spot you'

'Not likely. I invented the game. Also, I'll be behind him. Stay here. I'll come back for you.'

Carrying his canvas bag, his gait showing the weariness of jet lag, Jason fell in line with the disembarked passengers heading into the hotel, his eyes on the grey-haired man ahead. Twice the former British commando stopped and turned around, and twice, with each brief movement of the shoulders, Bourne also turned and bent down, as if brushing an insect from his leg or adjusting the strap of his bag, his body and face out of sight. The crowd at the registration counter grew and Jason was eight people behind the killer in the second line, making himself as inconspicuous as possible, continually stooping to kick his bag ahead. The commando reached the female clerk; he showed his papers, signed the register, and limped with his cane towards a bank of brown elevators on the right. Six minutes later Bourne faced the same clerk. He spoke in Mandarin.