'In what you do, I am, indeed. But not in what I do.'
'Why didn't you tell Havilland about this grand plan of yours?'
'Because he wouldn't have permitted it. He would have placed me under house arrest because he thinks I'm inadequate. He'll always think so. I'm not a performer. I don't have those glib answers that ring with sincerity but are also woefully uninformed. This, however, is different, and the performers see it so clearly because it's all part of their global, macho theatrics. Economics aside, this is a conspiracy to undermine the leadership of a suspicious, authoritarian regime. And who's at the core of this conspiracy that has to fail? Who are these infiltrators whom Peking trusts as its own? China's most deeply committed enemies - their own brothers from the Kuomintang on Taiwan. Again, to use the vernacular, when the shit hits the fan - as it surely will - the performers on all sides will step up to the podiums and scream their screams of treason and righteous "internal revolt" because there's nothing else the performers can do. The embarrassment's total, complete and, on the world stage, massive embarrassment leads to massive violence.'
It was Bourne's turn to stare at the analyst. As he did, Marie's words came to him, from a different context but not irrelevant in the present case. That's not an answer,' he said. 'It's a point of view, but it's not an answer. Why now? I hope it's not to prove your decency. That would be very foolish. Very dangerous.'
'Oddly enough,' said McAllister, frowning, briefly looking at the ground. 'Where you and your wife are concerned, I suppose that's part of it - a minor part.' The undersecretary of state raised his eyes and continued calmly. 'But the basic reason, Mr Bourne, is that I'm rather tired of being Edward Newington McAllister, maybe a brilliant but surely an inconsequential analyst. I'm the mind in the back room that's brought out when things get too complicated and then sent back after he's rendered a judgement. You might say I'd like that chance for a moment in the sun - out of the back room, as it were.'
Jason studied the undersecretary in the shadows. 'A couple of moments ago you said there was the risk of my failing, and I'm experienced. You're not. Have you considered the consequences if you fail?
'I don't think I will.'
'You don't think you will,' repeated Bourne flatly. 'May I ask why?'
'I've thought it out.'
That's nice.'
'No, I mean it,' protested McAllister. The strategy is fundamentally simple: To get Sheng alone with me. I can do that but you can't do it for me. And you certainly can't get him alone with you. All I need is a few seconds and a weapon.'
'If I allowed it I don't know which would frighten me more. Your succeeding or your failing. May I remind you that you're an undersecretary of state for the United States government? Suppose you're caught? It's good-bye, Charlie,
for everyone.' 'I've considered that since the day I arrived back in Hong
Kong.' 'You what?'
'For weeks I've thought that this might be the solution, that / might be the solution. The government's covered. It's all written down in my papers back on Victoria Peak, with a copy for Havilland and another set to be delivered to the Chinese consulate in Hong Kong in seventy-two hours. The ambassador may even have found his set by now. So, you see, there's no turning back.' 'What the hell have you done?
'Described what amounts to a blood feud between Sheng and myself. Given my record and the time I spent over here, as well as Sheng's well-known penchant for secrecy, it's actually quite plausible. Certainly his enemies in the Central Committee will leap at it. If I'm killed or captured, so much attention will be focused on Sheng, so many questions regardless of his denials, he won't dare move - if he survives.' 'Good Christ, save me,' said Bourne, stunned. 'It's not necessary for you to know the particulars, but you'll recognize the main point of your conspirator-for-a-conspirator theory. In essence I accuse him of going back on his word, of cutting me out of his Hong Kong manipulations after I spent years secretly helping him develop the structure. He's cutting me out because he doesn't need me any longer and he knows I can't possibly say anything because I'd be ruined. I wrote that I was even frightened for my life.' 'Forget it!' shouted Jason. 'Forget the whole goddamned thing! It's crazy! 'You're assuming I'll fail. Or be captured. I'm assuming neither - with your help, of course.'
Bourne took a deep breath and lowered his voice. 'I admire your courage, even your latent sense of decency, but there's a better way and you can provide it. You'll have your moment in the sun, Mr Analyst, but not this way.'
'What way, then?' asked the undersecretary of state, now bewildered. 'I've seen you operate and Conklin was right. You may be a son of a bitch but you're something. You reach into the Foreign Office in London and know who can change the rules. You spent six years over here digging around the dirty-tricks business, tracking killers and thieves and the pimps of the Far East in the name of neighbourly government policy. You know which button to press and where the bodies are buried. You even remembered a squirrelly doctor here in Macao who owed you a favour and you made him pay.'
That's all second nature. One doesn't easily forget such people.'
'Find me others. Find me killers for a price. Between you and Havilland the two of you can do it. You're going to get on the phone to him and tell him these are my demands. He's to transfer a million - five million if he has to - over here to Macao in the morning, and by mid-afternoon I want a killer unit here ready to go up into China. I'll make the arrangements. I know a rendezvous that's been used before in the hills of Guangdong; there are fields that can easily be reached by helicopter, where Sheng or his lieutenants used to meet with the commando. Once he gets my message he'll make the trip, take my word for it. You just do your part. Dig around that head of yours and come up with three or four experienced scumbags. Tell them the risk is minimal and the price high. That's your moment in the sun, Mr Analyst. It should be irresistible. You'll have something on Havilland for the rest of his life. He'll make you his chief aide, probably Secretary of State, if you want it. He can't afford not to.'
'Impossible,' said McAllister quietly, his eyes locked with Jason's.
'Well, maybe Secretary of State's a bit much-'
'What you have just suggested is impossible,' broke in the undersecretary.
'Are you telling me there aren't such men, because if you are you're lying again.'
'I'm sure there are. I might even know of several and I'm sure others are on that list of names Wenzu gave you when he was playing the role of the white-suited taipan in the Walled City. But I wouldn't touch them. Even if Havilland ordered me to I'd refuse.'
Then you don't want Sheng! Everything you said was just another lie. Liar!'
'You're wrong, I do want Sheng. But to use your words, not this way.'
'Why not?'
'Because I won't put my government, my country, in that kind of compromised position. Actually, I think Havilland would agree with me. Hiring killers is too traceable, the transferring of money too traceable. Someone gets angry or boastful or drunk; he talks and an assassination is laid at Washington's feet. I couldn't be a part of that. I refer you to the Kennedys' attempts on Castro's life using the Mafia. Insanity... No, Mr Bourne, I'm afraid you're stuck with me.'
'I'm not stuck with anyone! I can reach Sheng; you can't?
'Complicated issues can usually be reduced to simple equations if certain facts are remembered.'
'What does that mean?'
'It means I insist we do things my way.'
'Why?'
'Because Havilland has your wife.'
'She's with Conklin! With Mo Panov! He wouldn't dare-'
'You don't know him,' McAllister interrupted. 'You insult him but you don't know him. He's like Sheng Chou Yang. He'll stop at nothing. If I'm right - and I'm sure I am - Mrs Webb, Mr Conklin and Dr Panov are guests at the house in Victoria Peak for the duration.'
'Guests?'
That house arrest I mentioned a few minutes ago.'
'Son of a bitch' whispered Jason, the muscles
in his face pulsating.
'Now, how do we reach Peking?
With his eyes closed, Bourne answered. 'A man at the Guangdong garrison named Soo Jiang. I speak to him in French and he leaves a message for us here in Macao. At a table in a casino.'
'Move!' said McAllister.
36
The telephone rang, startling the naked woman who quickly sat up in the bed. The man lying next to her was suddenly wide awake; he was wary of any intrusion, especially one in the middle of the night, or, more accurately, the early hours of the morning. The expression on his soft, round Oriental face, however, showed that such intrusions were not infrequent, only unnerving. He reached for the phone on the bedside table.
'Wei?' he said softly.
'Macao lai dianhua' replied the switchboard operator at Headquarters, Guangdong garrison.
'Connect me on scrambler and remove all recording devices.'
'It is done, Colonel Soo.'
'I will conduct my own study of that,' said Soo Jiang, sitting up and reaching for a small, flat, rectangular object with a raised circle at one end.
'It's not necessary, sir.'
'I would hope not for your sake.' Soo placed the circle over the mouthpiece and pressed a button. Had there been an intercept on the line, the piercing whistle that suddenly erupted for one second would have continued pulsating until the listening device was removed or a listener's eardrum was punctured. There was only silence, magnified by the moonlight streaming through the window. 'Go ahead, Macao,' said the colonel.
'Bonsoir, man ami,' said the voice from Macao. The French instantly accepted as being spoken by the impostor. ''Comment fa va?'
'Vous?' gasped Jiang, stunned, swinging his short fat legs from under the sheet and planting them on the floor. 'Attendez? The colonel turned to the woman. 'You. Out. Get out of here,' he ordered in Cantonese. Take your clothes and put them on in the front room. Keep the door open so I can see you leave.'
'You owe me money!' whispered the woman stridently. 'For two times you owe me money, and double for what I did for you below!'
'Your payment is in the fact that I may not have your husband fired. Now get out! You have thirty seconds or you have a penniless husband.'
'They call you the Pig,' said the woman, grabbing her clothes and rushing to the bedroom door, where she turned, glaring at Soo. 'Pig? 'Out:
Seconds later Soo returned to the phone, continuing in French. 'What happened?. The reports from Beijing are incredible! No less so the news from the airfield in Shenzhen. He took you prisoner!' 'He's dead,' said the voice from Macao.
'Dead?'
'Shot by his own people, at least fifty bullets in his body.'
'And you?
'They accepted my story. I was an innocent hostage picked up in the streets and used as a shield as well as a decoy. They treated me well and, in fact, kept me from the press at my insistence. Of course, they're trying to minimize everything but they won't have much success. The newspaper and television people were all over the place, so you'll read about it in the morning papers.'
'My God, where did it happen?
'An estate on Victoria Peak. It's part of the consulate and damned secret. That's why I have to reach your leader-one. I learned things that he should know about.'
Tell me.
The 'assassin' laughed derisively. 'I sell this kind of information. I don't give it away - especially not to pigs.'
'You'll be well taken care of,' insisted Soo.
Too well in my book.'
'What do you mean by "leader-one'? asked Colonel Soo Jiang, dismissing the remark.
'Your head man, the chief, the big rooster - whatever you want to call him. He was the man in that forest preserve who did all the talking, wasn't he? The one who used his sword with such efficiency, the wild-eyed corkscrew with the short hair, the one I tried to warn about the Frenchman's delaying tactics-'
'You dare...? You did that?'
'Ask him. I told him something was wrong, that the Frenchman was stalling him. Christ, I paid for his not listening to me! He should have hacked that French bastard when I told him to! Now you tell him I want to talk to him!'
'Even I do not talk to him,' said the colonel. 'I reach only subordinates by their code names. I don't know their real ones-'
'You mean the men who fly down to the hills in Guangdong to meet me and deliver the assignments?' interrupted Bourne.
'Yes.'
'I won't talk to any of them!' exploded Jason, now posing as his own impostor. 'I want to talk to the man. And he'd better want to talk to me.'
'You will speak with others first, but still, even for them, there must be very strong reasons. They do the summoning, others do not. You should know that by now.'
'All right, you can be the courier. I was with the Americans for almost three hours, mounting the best cover I ever mounted in my life. They questioned me at length and I answered them openly - I don't have to tell you that I have back-ups all over the territory, men and women who'll swear I'm a business associate, or that I was with them at a specific time, no matter who calls-'
'You don't have to tell me that,' Soo broke in. 'Please, just give me the message I'm to convey. You talked with the Americans. Then what?
'I listened, too. The colonials have a stupid habit of talking too freely among themselves in the presence of strangers.'
'I hear a British voice now. The voice of superiority. We've all heard it before.'
'You're damned right. The wogs don't do that, and God knows you slants don't either.'
'Please, sir, continue.'
'The one who took me prisoner, the man who was killed by the Americans, was an American himself.'
'So?
'I leave a signature with my kills. The name has a long history. It's Jason Bourne.'
'We know that. And?
'He was the original! He was an American and they've been hunting him for nearly two years.'
'And?
They think Beijing found him and hired him. Someone in Beijing who needed the most important kill of his life, who needed to kill a man in that house. Bourne's for sale to anybody, an equal-opportunity employee, as the Americans might say.'
'Your language is elusive. Please be clearer!'
There were several others in that room with the Americans. Chinese from Taiwan who said outright that they oppose most of the leaders of the secret societies in the Kuomintang. They were angry. Frightened too, I think.' Bourne stopped. Silence.
'Yes? pressed the colonel apprehensively.
They said a number of other things. They also kept mentioning the name of someone called Sheng.'
'Aiya?
That's the message you'll convey and I'll expect a response at the casino within three hours. I'll send someone to pick it up and don't try anything foolish. I have people there who can start a riot as easily as they can roll a seven. Any interference and your men are dead.'
'We remember the Tsim Sha Tsui a few weeks ago,' said
Soo Jiang. 'Five of our enemies killed in a back room while a cabaret erupts in violence. There'll be no interference; we're not fools where you are concerned. We often wondered if the original Jason Bourne was as proficient as his successor.'
'He wasn't.' Bring up the possibility of a riot at the casino in case Sheng's people try to trap you. Say their men will be killed. You don't have to elaborate. They'll understand... The analyst knew whereof he spoke. 'A question,' said Jason, genuinely interested. 'When did you and the others decide I wasn't the original?
'At first sight,' replied the colonel. The years leave their marks, don't they? The body may remain agile, even improve with care, but the face reflects time; it is inescapable. Your face could not possibly be the face of the man from Medusa, that was over fifteen years ago and you are, at best, a man in your early thirties. The Medusa did not recruit children. You were the Frenchman's reincarnation.'
The code word is "crisis" and you have three hours, said Bourne, hanging up the pho
ne.
'This is crazy!' Jason stepped out of the open glass booth in the all-night telephone complex and looked angrily at McAllister.
'You did it very well,' said the analyst, writing on a small notepad. 'I'll pay the bill.' The undersecretary started towards the raised platform where the operators accepted payments for international calls.
'You're missing the point,' continued Bourne at McAllister's side, his voice low, harsh. 'It can't work. It's too unorthodox, too obvious for anyone to buy it.'
'If you were demanding a meeting I'd agree with you, but you're not. You're only asking for a telephone conversation.'
Robert Ludlum - Bourne 2 - Bourne Supremecy Page 71
