The Bourne Supremacy

'And where half a dozen of your goons crack my skull and throw me into a room where a doctor fills me with juice and you get it all for nothing? Bourne's anger was only partly feigned; Sheng's troops were the ones behaving like amateurs. 'I'll tell you about another piece of sophisticated equipment. It's called a telephone and I didn't think there'd be communications from Macao to the Guangdong garrison if you didn't have scramblers. Of course, you bought them in Tokyo because if you made them yourselves they probably wouldn't work! Use one. I'm calling you just once more, lady. Have a number for me. The man's number. ' Jason hung up.

'That's interesting,' said McAllister several feet away from the pay phone, glancing briefly at the Chinese conduit who had returned to the table. 'You used the stick when I would have used the carrot. '

'Used the what?'

'I would have emphasized what extraordinary information I had to reveal. Instead you threatened, as if you were dismissing whoever it was. '

'Spare me,' answered Bourne, lighting a cigarette, grateful that his hand was not shaking. 'For your edification I did both. The threat emphasizes the revelation and the dismissal reinforces both. '

'Your input is showing,' said the undersecretary of state, a hint of a smile on his face. Thank you. '

The man from Medusa looked hard at the man from Washington. 'If this damn thing works, can you do it, analyst? Can you whip out the gun and pull the trigger? Because if you can't, we're both dead. '

'I can do it,' said McAllister calmly. 'For the Far East. For the world. '

'And for your day in the sun. ' Jason started towards the table. 'Let's get out of here. I don't want to use this phone again. '

The serenity of Jade Tower Mountain was belied by the frantic activity inside the villa of Sheng Chou Yang. The turmoil was not caused by the number of people for there were only five, but by the intensity of the players. The minister listened as his aides came and went from the garden bringing news of the latest developments and timidly offered advice, which was withdrawn instantly at the first sign of displeasure.

'Our people have confirmed the story, sir!' cried a uniformed middle-aged man rushing from the house. They've talked to the journalists. Everything was as the assassin described and a photograph of the dead man was distributed to the newspapers. '

'Get it,' ordered Sheng. 'Have it wired here at once. This is incredible. '

'It's being done,' said the soldier. The consulate sent an attache to the South China News. It should be arriving within minutes. '

'Incredible,' repeated Sheng softly, his eyes straying to the lily pads in the nearest of the four man-made ponds. The symmetry is too perfect, the timing too perfect, and that means something is imperfect. Someone has imposed order. '

The assassin?' asked another aide.

'For what purpose? He has no idea that he would have been a corpse before the night was over in the sanctuary. He thought he was privileged, but we were only using him to trap his predecessor, unearthed by our man in Special Branch. '

'Then who?' questioned another.

That's the dilemma. Who! Everything is at once tempting yet clumsy. It's all too apparent, fraught with unprofessional ego. The assassin, if he's telling the truth, must believe he has nothing to fear from me, but still he threatens, conceivably throwing over a most profitable client. Professionals don't do that and that's what bothers me. '

'You are suggesting a third party, Minister?' asked the third aide.

'If so,' said Sheng, his eyes now riveted on a single lily pad, 'someone with no experience or with the intelligence of an ox. It's a dilemma. '

'It's here, sir!' shouted a young man, racing into the garden, holding a teletyped photograph.

'Give it to me. Quickly!' Sheng grabbed the paper and angled it into the glare of a floodlight . 'It is he I'll never forget that face as long as I breathe! Clear everything! Tell the woman in Macao to give our assassin the number and electronically sweep all conceivable interceptions. Failure is death. '

'Instantly, Minister!' The operator ran back to the house.

'My wife and my children,' said Sheng Chou Yang, reflectively. They may be upset by all this disturbance. Will one of you please go inside and explain that affairs of state keep me from their beloved presence?'

'It is my honour, sir,' said an aide.

They suffer so from the demands of my work. They are all angels. One day they will be rewarded. '

Bourne touched the conduit's shoulder, then pointed to the lighted marquee of a hotel on the right side of the street . 'We'll check in here then head for a phone booth on the other side of the city. Okay?

'It's wise,' said the Chinese. They are all over the telephone company. '

'And we've got to get some sleep. The Frenchman never stopped telling me that rest was also a weapon. Christ, why do I keep repeating myself?'

'Because you're obsessed,' said McAllister from the back seat.

Tell me about it. No, don't. '

Jason dialled the number in Macao that tripped a relay in China into a swept telephone in Jade Tower Mountain. As he did so he looked at the analyst . 'Does Sheng speak French? he asked quickly.

'Of course,' said the undersecretary. 'He deals with the Quai d'Orsay and speaks the language of everyone he negotiates with. It's one of his strengths. But why not use Mandarin? You know it. '

The commando didn't, and if I speak English he might wonder where the British accent went. French'll cover it, as it did with Soo Jiang, and I'll also know whether or not it's Sheng. ' Bourne stretched a handkerchief across the mouthpiece as he heard a second, echoing ring fifteen hundred miles away. The scramblers were in place.

'Wei?'

'Comme le colonel, je prefere parler francais. '

'Shemma?' cried the voice, bewildered.

'Fawen,' said Jason, the Mandarin for French.

'Fawen? Wo buhui!' replied the man excitedly, stating that he did not speak French. The call was expected. Another voice intruded; it was in the background and too low to be heard. And then it was there on the line.

''Mats pourquoi parlez-vous francaisT It was Sheng! No matter the language, Bourne would never forget the orator's singsong delivery. It was the zealous minister of an unmerciful God seducing an audience before assaulting it with fire and brimstone.

'Let's say I feel more comfortable. '

'Very well. What is this incredible story you bring? This madness during which a name was mentioned?'

'I was also told you speak French,' interrupted Jason.

There was a pause in which only Sheng's steady breathing could be heard. 'You know who I am?'

'I know a name that doesn't mean anything to me. It does to someone else, though. Someone you knew years ago. He wants to talk to you. '

'What?' screamed Sheng. 'Betrayal!'

'Nothing of the sort, and if I were you I'd listen to him. He saw right through everything I told them. The others didn't, but he did. ' Bourne glanced at McAllister beside him; the analyst nodded his head as if to say that Jason was convincingly using the words the undersecretary had given him. 'He took one look at me and put the figures together. But then the Frenchman's original boy was pretty well shot up; his head was a bloody cauliflower. '

'What have you done?

'Probably the biggest favour you ever received, and I expect to be paid for it. Here's your friend. He'll use English. ' Bourne handed the phone to the analyst, who spoke instantly.

'It's Edward McAllister, Sheng. '

'Edward...?' The stu

This conversation is off the record, with no official sanction. My whereabouts are unlogged and unknown. I'm speaking solely for my own benefit – and yours. '