The Bourne Supremacy

'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 perso

'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. '