The Bourne Supremacy (88 page)

'Out for a smoke?' asked the guard.

'Yeah, I couldn't sleep,' said the man, with an American accent that was a product of the South-west.

'Those fuckin' cots weren't made for sleeping. Just sit on one and you know it... Hey, wait a minute! Who the hell are you?'

The marine had no chance to level his rifle. The intruder lunged, thrusting his knife straight into the guard's throat with deadly accuracy, cutting off all sound, all life. The killer quickly dragged the corpse around the corner of the building and left it in the shadows. He wiped the blade off on the dead man's uniform, reinserted it beneath his tunic, and returned to the french doors. He entered the house.

He walked down the long, dimly lit corridor at the end of which stood a third marine in front of a wide, sculptured door. The guard angled his rifle downward and looked at his watch. 'You're early,' he said. 'I'm not due to be relieved for another hour and twenty minutes.'

'I'm not with this unit, buddy.'

'You with the Oahu group?'

'Yeah.'

'I thought they got you jokers out of here pronto and back to Hawaii. That's the scuttlebutt.'

'A few of us were ordered to stay behind. We're down at the consulate now. That guy, what's-his-name, McAllister, has been taking our testimonies all night.'

'I tell you, pal, this whole goddamned thing is weird!'

'You got it, triple weird. By the way, where's that fruitcake's office? He sent me up here to bring him back his special pipe tobacco.'

'It figures. Mix some grass in it.'

'Which office?'

'Earlier I saw him and the doctor go in that first door on the right. Then later, before he left, he went in here.' The guard tilted his head to indicate the door behind him.

'Whose place is that?'

'I don't know his name but he's the top banana. They call him the ambassador.'

The killer's eyes narrowed. 'The ambassador?

'Yeah. The room's fractured. Half of it's blown apart by that fucking maniac, but the safe's intact, which is why I'm here and another guy outside in the tulips. Must be a couple of million in there for extra-curricular activities.'

'Or something else,' said the intruder softly. The first door on the right, huh? he added, turning and reaching under his tunic.

'Hold it,' said the marine. 'Why didn't the gate send word in here? He reached for the hand-held radio strapped to his belt. 'Sorry, but I've got to check you out, buddy. It's standard-'

The killer threw his knife. As it plunged into the guard's chest he hurled himself on the marine, his thumbs centering on the man's throat. Thirty seconds later he opened the door of Havilland's office and dragged the dead man inside.

They crossed the border in full darkness, business suits and regimental ties replacing the rumpled, nondescript clothes they had worn previously. Added to their attire were two proper attache cases strapped with diplomatique tape, indicating government documents beyond the scrutiny of immigration points. In truth, the cases held their weapons, as well as several additional items Bourne had picked up in d'Anjou's flat after McAllister produced the sacrosanct plastic tape that was respected even by the People's Republic - respected as long as China wanted the same courtesy to be extended to its own foreign service personnel. The conduit from Macao whose name was Wong - at least that was the name he offered - was impressed by the diplomatic passports but for safety's sake, as well as for the $20,000 American for which he said he felt a moral obligation, decided to prepare the border crossing his way.

'It's not as difficult as perhaps I led you to believe before, sir,' explained Wong. 'Two of the guards are cousins on my blessed mother's side - may she rest with the holy Jesus - and we help each other. I do more for them than they do for me, but then I am in a better position. Their stomachs are fuller than most in the city of Zhuhai Shi and both have television sets.'

'If they're cousins,' said Jason, 'why did you object to the watch I gave one of them before? You said it was too expensive.'

'Because he'll sell it, sir, and I don't care to see him spoiled. He'll expect too much from me.'

On such considerations, thought Bourne, were the tightest borders in the world patrolled. They were directed by Wong to enter the last gate on the right at precisely 8:55; he would cross separately a few minutes later. Their red-striped passports were studied, sent to an inside office and amid many abrupt smiles on the part of a cousin, the honoured diplomats were rapidly passed through. They were instantly welcomed to China by the prefect of the Zhuhai Shi-Guangdong Province Control who returned their passports. She was a short, broad-shouldered, muscular woman. Her English was obscured by a thick accent but was understandable.

'You have government business in Zhuhai Shi?' she asked, her smile belied by her clouded, vaguely hostile eyes. The Guangdong garrison, perhaps? I can arrange auto transport, please?'

'Bu xiexie,' said the undersecretary of state, declining, and then for courtesy's sake reverting to English to show respect for his host's diligence in learning it. 'It's a minor conference, lasting for only a few hours, and we'll return to Macao later tonight. We'll be contacted here, so we'll have some coffee and wait.'

'In my office, please?'

Thank you, but I think not. Your people will be looking for us in the ... Kafie dian - the cafe.'

'Over on the left-right, sir. On the street. Welcome again to the People's Republic.'

'Your courtesy will not be forgotten,' said McAllister, bowing.

'You are with thanks,' replied the heavy-set woman, nodding and striding away.

'To use your words, analyst,' said Bourne, 'you did that very well. But I should tell you she's not on our side.'

'Of course not,' agreed the undersecretary. 'She's been instructed to call someone either here at the garrison or in Beijing confirming that we've crossed over. That someone will reach Sheng, and he'll know it's me - and you. No one else.'

'He's airborne,' said Jason as they walked slowly towards the dimly lit coffee shop at the end of a dingy concrete walkway that emerged on the street. 'He's on his way here. Incidentally, we'll be followed, you know that, don't you?'

'No, I don't know that,' replied McAllister, looking briefly at Bourne. 'Sheng will be cautious. I've given him enough information to alarm him. If he thought there was only one file - which happens to be the truth - he might take chances, thinking he could buy it from me and kill me. But he thinks, or has to assume, that there's a copy in Washington. That's the one he wants destroyed. He won't do anything to upset me or to make me panic and run. Remember, I'm the amateur and I frighten easily. I know him. He's putting it all together now and is probably carrying more money to me than I've ever dreamed of. Of course, he expects to get it back once the files are destroyed and he does kill me. So, you see, I have a very strong reason not to fail - or not to succeed by failing.'

The man from Medusa again stared at the man from Washington. 'You've really thought this out, haven't you?'

Thoroughly,' answered McAllister, looking straight ahead. 'For weeks. Every detail. Frankly, I didn't think you'd be a part of it because I thought you'd be dead, but I knew I could reach Sheng. Somehow - unofficially, of course. Any other way, including a confidential conference, would entail protocol, and even if I got him alone, without his aides, I couldn't touch him. It would look like a government-sanctioned assassination. I considered reaching him directly, for old time's sake, and using words that would trigger a response - pretty much what I did last night. As you said to Havilland, the simplest ways are usually the best. We tend to complicate things.'

'In your defence, you frequently have to. You can't be caught with a smoking gun.'

That's such a trite expression,' said the analyst with a derisive laugh. 'What does it mean? That you were led or misled into an error? Policy doesn't revolve around a single man's embarrassment, or it shouldn't. I'm constantly appalled by the people's cries for righteousness when they have no idea, no concept, of how we have to deal.'

'Maybe the people every now and then want a straight answer.'

They can't have one,' said McAllister as they approached the door of the coffee shop, 'because they couldn't understand.'

Bourne stood in front of the door without opening it. 'You're blind,' he said, his eyes locked with the undersecretary's. 'I wasn't given a straight answer, either, much less an explanation. You've been in Washington too long. You should try a couple of weeks in Cleveland or Bangor, Maine. It might broaden that perspective of yours.'

'Don't lecture me, Mr Bourne. Less than forty-six per cent of our population care enough to cast a vote - which determines the directions we take. It's all left to us - the performers and the professional bureaucrats. We're all you've got ... May we go inside, please? Your friend, Mr Wong, said we were to spend only a few minutes being seen having coffee and then go out on the street. He said he'd meet us there in exactly twenty-five minutes and twelve have already elapsed.'

Twelve? Not ten or fifteen, but twelve?"

'Precisely.'

'What do we do if he's two minutes late? Shoot him?'

'Very funny,' said the analyst, pushing the door open.

They walked out of the coffee shop and on to the dark, bruised pavement of the run-down square fronting the Guangdong checkpoint. As it was a slow time at the gates, there were no more than a dozen people crossing the thoroughfare and disappearing into the darkness. Of the three streetlights in the immediate vicinity, only one was working, dimly. Visibility was poor. The 25-minute mark passed, and was stretched to 30, then approached 38.

Bourne spoke. 'Something's wrong. He should have made contact by now.'

Two minutes and we shoot him?" said McAllister, instantly disliking his own attempt at humour. 'I mean I gathered that staying calm was everything.'

'For two minutes, not close to fifteen,' replied Jason. 'It's not normal,' he added softly, as if to himself. 'On the other hand, it could be normally abnormal. He wants us to make contact with him.'

'I don't understand-'

'You don't have to. Just walk alongside me, as if we were strolling, passing the time until we're met. If she sees us, the lady wrestler won't be surprised. Chinese officials are notoriously late for conferences; they feel it gives them the advantage.'

'"Let them sweat"?

'Exactly. Only that's not who we're meeting now. Come on, let's go to the left; it's darker, away from the light. Be casual; talk about the weather, anything. Nod your head, shake it, shrug - just keep up steady, low-keyed movements.'

They had walked for about fifty feet when it happened. 'Kam Pek!' The name of the casino in Macao was whispered, shot out of the shadows beyond a deserted news-stand.

'Wong?'

'Stay where you are and make a show of conversation, but listen to me!'

'What's happened?

'You're being followed.'

'Two points for a brilliant bureaucrat,' said Jason. 'Any comment, Mr Undersecretary?'

'It's unexpected but not illogical,' answered McAllister. 'A safeguard, perhaps. False passports abound over here, as we happen to know.'

'Queen Kong checked us out. Strike one.'

Then, perhaps, to make sure we don't link up with the kind of people you suggested last night,' whispered the analyst, his words too low to be heard by the Chinese conduit.

That's possible.' Bourne raised his voice slightly so that the conduit could hear him, his eyes on the border gate's entrance. There was no one. 'Who's following us?

The Pig.'

'Soo?'

'Ever so, sir. It is why I must stay out of sight.'

'Anyone else?'

'No one that I could see, but I don't know who is on the road to the hills.'

'I'll take him out,' said the man from Medusa called Delta.

Wo!' objected McAllister. 'His orders from Sheng may include confirming that we remain alone, that we don't meet others. You just agreed it was possible.'

The only way he could do that is to reach others himself. He can't do that ... if he can't do that. And your old friend wouldn't permit a radio transmission while he's in a plane or a chopper. It could be picked up.'

'Suppose there are specific signals - a flare or a powerful flashlight beamed up, telling the pilot everything's clear?'

Jason looked at the analyst. 'You do think things out.'

There is a way,' said Wong from the shadows, 'and it is a privilege I should like to reserve for myself, no additional charge.'

'What privilege?'

'I will kill the Pig. It will be done in such a way that cannot be compromised.'

'What? Astonished, Bourne started to turn his head.

''Please, sir! Look straight ahead.'

'Sorry. But why?'

'He fornicates indiscriminately, threatening the women he favours with loss of employment for themselves and their husbands, even brothers and cousins. Over the past four years he has brought shame to many families, including mine on my blessed mother's side.'

'Why hasn't he been killed before now?'

'He travels with armed guards, even in Macao. Yet in spite

of this, several attempts have been made by enraged men. They resulted in reprisals.' 'Reprisals? asked McAllister quietly. 'People were chosen, again indiscriminately, and charged with stealing supplies and equipment from the garrison. The punishment for such crimes is death in the fields.'

'Jesus,' muttered Bourne. 'I won't ask questions. You've got reason enough. But how tonight?

'His guards are not with him now. They may be waiting for him on the road to the hills, but they are not with him now. You start out, and if he follows you I will follow him. If he does not follow you, I will know that your journey will not be interrupted and I will catch up with you.' 'Catch up with us? Bourne frowned. 'After I kill the Pig and leave his pig body in its proper and, for him, disgraceful place. The female toilet.' 'And if he does follow us? asked Jason. 'My opportunity will come, even as I serve as your eyes. I will see his guards, but they will not see me. No matter what he does, the moment will be there when he separates himself, if only by a few feet in the darkness. It will be enough, and it will be assumed he has brought shame to one of his own men.' 'We'll get started.' 'You know the way, sir.' 'As if I had a road map.'