The Bourne Supremacy (46 page)

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Authors: Robert Ludlum

Tags: #Suspense, #Thriller, #Mystery, #Adventure

BOOK: The Bourne Supremacy
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'Now you're the one being honest. I appreciate it.'

'I'm glad. I want the air cleared between us because I want your help.'

'Marie?'

'And beyond,' said Havilland. 'What specifics disturb you? What can I clarify?'

This clearing house, this commission of bankers and taipans Sheng will propose to oversee the colony's financial policies-'

'Let me anticipate,' interrupted the diplomat. 'On the surface they will be disparate in character and position and eminently acceptable. As I said to McAllister when we first met, if we thought the whole insane scheme had a prayer, we'd look the other way and wish them great success, but it doesn't have a chance. All powerful men have enemies; there'll be skeptics here in Hong Kong and in Peking -jealous factions who've been excluded - and they'll dig deeper than Sheng expects. I think you know what they'll find.'

That all roads, above and below ground, lead to Rome. Rome here being this taipan, Sheng's father, whose name your highly selective documents never mention. He's the spider whose webs reach out to every member of that clearing house. He controls them. For God's sake, who the hell is he?'

'I wish we knew,' said Havilland, his voice flat.

'You really don't?' asked Catherine Staples, astonished.

'If we did, life would be far simpler and I would have told you. I'm not playing games with you; we've never learned who he is. How many taipans are there in Hong Kong? How many zealots wanting to strike back at Peking in any way they can in the cause of the Kuomintang? By their lights China was stolen from them. Their Motherland, the graves of their ancestors, their possessions - everything. Many were decent people, Mrs Staples, but many others were not. The political leaders, the warlords, the landlords, the immensely rich - they were a privileged society that gorged themselves on the sweat and suppression of millions. And if that sounds like a crock of today's Communist propaganda, it was a classic case of yesterday's provocation that gave rise to such bilge. We're dealing with a handful of obsessed expatriats who want their own back. They forget the corruption that led to their own collapse.'

'Have you thought of confronting Sheng himself? Privately!

'Of course, and his reaction is all too predictable. He would feign outrage and tell us bluntly that if we pursue such despicable fantasies in an attempt to discredit him, he'll void the China Accords, claiming duplicity, and move Hong Kong into Peking's economic orbit immediately. He'd claim that many of the old line Marxists in the Central Committee would applaud such a move, and he'd be right. Then he would look at us and probably say, "Gentlemen, you have your choice. Good day."'

'And if you made Sheng's conspiracy public the same thing would happen and he knows you know it,' said Staples, frowning. 'Peking would pull out of the Accords, blaming Taiwan and the West for messing around. The West's face is beet red with internal capitalistic corruption, so the territory marches to a Marxist drum - actually they wouldn't have a choice. And what follows is economic collapse.'

That's the way we read it,' agreed Havilland.

'The solution?'

There's only one. Sheng.'

Staples nodded her head. 'Hardball,' she said.

The most extreme act, if that's what you mean.'

That's obviously what I mean,' said Catherine. 'And Marie's husband, this Webb, is intrinsic to the solution?'

'Jason Bourne is intrinsic to it, yes.'

'Because this impostor, this assassin who calls himself Bourne, can be trapped by the extraordinary man he emulates - as McAllister put it, but not in that context. He takes his place and pulls out Sheng where he can implement the solution, the extreme solution... Hell, he kills him.'

'Yes. Somewhere in China, of course.'

'In China ... of course?'

'Yes, making it appear internal fratricide with no external connections. Peking can't blame anyone but unknown enemies of Sheng within its own hierarchy. In any case, at that juncture, if it happens, it's probably going to be irrelevant. The world won't officially hear of Sheng's death for weeks, and when the announcement is made, his "sudden demise" will undoubtedly be attributed to a massive coronary or a cerebral haemorrhage, certainly not to murder. The giant does not parade its aberrations, its conceals them.'

'Which is precisely what you want.'

'Naturally. The world goes on, the taipans are cut off from their source, Sheng's clearing-house collapses like a house of cards, and reasonable men go forward honoring the Accords to everyone's benefit... But we're a long way from there, Mrs Staples. To begin with, there's today, tonight. Kai Tak. It could be the beginning of the end, for we have no immediate countermeasures to put in place. If I appear calm it's an illusion born of years of concealing tension. My two consolations at this moment are that the colony's security forces are among the best on earth, and second - the tragedy of death notwithstanding - is that Peking has been alerted to the situation. Hong Kong's concealing nothing, nor does it care to. So, in a sense, it becomes both a joint risk and a joint venture to protect the Governor.'

'How does that help if the worst happens?'

'For what it's worth, psychologically. It may avert the appearance if not the fact of instability, for the emergency has been labeled beforehand as an isolated act of premeditated violence, not symptomatic of the colony's unrest. Above all, it's been shared. Both delegations have their own military escorts; they'll be put to use.'

'So by such subtle points of protocol a crisis can be contained?'

'From what I've been told, you don't need any lessons in containing crises, or precipitating them either. Besides, everything can go off the wire with one development that throws subtleties on to the garbage heap. Despite everything I've said, I'm frightened to death. There's so much room for error and miscalculation - they're our enemies, Mrs Staples. All we can do is wait, and waiting is the hardest part, the most draining.'

'I have other questions,' said Catherine.

'By all means, as many as you like. Make me think, make me sweat, if you can. It may help us both to take our minds off the waiting.'

'You just referred to my questionable abilities in containing crises. But you added - I think more confidently - that I could also precipitate them.'

'I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. It's a bad habit.'

'I assume you meant the attache, John Nelson.'

'Who? ... Oh, yes, the young man from the consulate. What he lacks in judgement he makes up in courage.'

'You're wrong.'

'About the judgement?' asked Havilland, his thick eyebrows arched in mild astonishment. 'Really?'

'I'm not excusing his weaknesses, but he's one of the finest people you've got. His professional judgement is superior to that of most of your more experienced personnel. Ask anyone in the consulates who's been in conferences with him. He's also one of the few who speak a damn good Cantonese.'

'He also compromised what he knew was a highly classified operation,' said the diplomat curtly.

'If he hadn't, you wouldn't have found me. You wouldn't have come within arm's reach of Marie St Jacques, which is where you are now. An arm's reach.'

'An "arm's reach"...?' Havilland leaned forward, his eyes angry, questioning. 'Surely, you won't continue to hide her.'

'Probably not. I haven't decided.'

'My God, woman, after everything you've been told! She's got to be here! Without her we've lost, we've all lost! If Webb found out she wasn't with us, that she'd disappeared, he'd go mad! You've got to deliver her!'

'That's the point. I can deliver her any time. It doesn't have to be when you say.'

'No!" thundered the ambassador. 'When and if OUT Jason Bourne completes his assignment, a series of telephone calls will be placed putting him in direct contact with his wife!'

'I won't give you a telephone number,' said Staples matter-of-factly. 'I might as well give you an address.'

'You don't know what you're doing! What do I have to say to convince you?'

'Simple. Reprimand John Nelson verbally. Suggest counseling, if you wish, but keep everything off the record and keep him here in Hong Kong, where his chances for recognition are the best.'

'Jesus Christ!' exploded Havilland. 'He's a drug addict!'

'That's ludicrous, but typical of the primitive reaction of an American "moralist" given a few key words.'

'Please, Mrs Staples-'

'He was drugged; he doesn't take drugs. His limit is three vodka martinis, and he likes girls. Of course, a few of your male attaches prefer boys, and their limit is nearer six martinis, but who's counting? Frankly, I personally don't give a damn what adults do within the four walls of a bedroom - I don't really believe that whatever it is affects what they do outside the bedroom - but Washington has this peculiar preoccupation with-'

'All right, Mrs Staples! Nelson is reprimanded - by me -and the Consul General will not be informed and nothing goes into his record. Are you satisfied?

'We're getting there. Call him this afternoon and tell him that. Also tell him to get his extracurricular act together for his own benefit.'

That will be a pleasure. Is there anything else?

'Yes, and I'm afraid I don't know how to put it without insulting you.'

'That hasn't fazed you.'

'It fazes me now because I know far more than I did three hours ago.'

'Then insult me, dear lady.'

Catherine paused, and when she spoke her voice was a cry for understanding. It was hollow yet vibrant and filled the room.' Why! Why did you do it? Wasn't there another way?'

'I presume you mean Mrs Webb.'

'Of course I mean Mrs Webb, and no less her husband! I asked you before, have you any idea what you've done to them? It's barbaric and I mean that in the full ugliness of the word. You've put both of them on some kind of medieval rack, literally pulling their minds and their bodies apart, making them live with the knowledge that they may never see each other again, each believing that with a wrong decision one can cause the other's death. An American lawyer once asked a question in a senate hearing, and I'm afraid I must ask it of you... Have you no sense of decency, Mr Ambassador?'

Havilland looked wearily at Staples. 'I have a sense of duty,' he said, his voice tired, his face drawn. 'I had to develop a situation rapidly that would provoke an immediate response, a total commitment to act instantly. It was based on an incident in Webb's past, a terrible thing that turned a civilized young scholar into - the phrase used to describe him was the "supreme guerrilla". I needed that man, that hunter, for all the reasons you've heard. He's here, he's hunting, and I assume his wife is unharmed and we obviously never intended anything else for her.'

The incident in Webb's past. That was his first wife? In Cambodia?

'You know, then?

'Marie told me. His wife and two children were killed by a lone jet fighter sweeping down along a river, strafing the water where they were playing.'

'He became another man,' said Havilland, nodding. 'His mind snapped and it became his war despite the fact that he had little or no regard for Saigon. He was venting his outrage in the only way he knew how, fighting an enemy who had stolen his life from him. He would usually take on only the most complex and dangerous assignments where the objectives were major, the targets within the framework of command personnel. One doctor said that in his mental warp Webb was killing the killers who sent out other mindless killers. I suppose it makes sense.'

'And by taking his second wife in Maine you raised the spectre of his first loss. The incident that turned him first into this "supreme guerrilla', then later as Jason Bourne, the hunter of Carlos the Jackal.'

'Yes, Mrs Staples, hunter,' interjected the diplomat quietly. 'I wanted that hunter on the scene immediately. I couldn't waste any time - not a minute - and I didn't know any other way to get immediate results.'

'He's an Oriental scholar? cried Catherine. 'He understands the dynamics of the Orient a hell of a lot better than any of us, the so-called experts. Couldn't you have appealed to him, appealed to his sense of history, pointing out the consequences of what could happen?

'He may be a scholar but he's first a man who believes -with certain justification - that he was betrayed by his government. He asked for help and a trap was set to kill him. No appeals of mine would have broken through that barrier.'

'You could have tried'

'And risk delay when every hour counted? In a way, I'm sorry you've never been put in my position. Then, perhaps, you might really understand me.'

'Question,' said Catherine, holding up her hand defiantly. 'What makes you think that David Webb will go into China after Sheng if he does find and take the impostor? As I understand it, the agreement is for him to deliver the man who calls himself Jason Bourne and Marie is returned to him.'

'At that point, if it occurs, it doesn't really matter. That's when we'll tell him why we did what we did. That's when we'll appeal to his Far East expertise and the global consequences of Sheng's and the taipans' machinations. If he walks away, we have several experienced field agents who can take his place. They're not men who you'd care to bring home to meet your mother but they're available and they can do it.'

'How?

'Codes, Mrs Staples. The original Jason Bourne's methods always included codes between himself and his clients. That was the structured myth and the impostor has studied every aspect of the original. Once this new Bourne is in our hands we'll get the information we need one way or another -confirmed by chemicals, of course. We'll know how to reach Sheng, and that's all we have to know. One meeting in the countryside outside Jade Tower Mountain. One kill and the world goes on. I'm not capable of coming up with any other solution. Are you?'

'No,' said Catherine softly, slowly shaking her head. 'It's hardball.'

'Give us Mrs Webb.'

'Yes, of course, but not tonight. She can't go anywhere, and you've got enough to worry about with Kai Tak. I took her to a flat in Tuen Mun in the New Territories. It belongs to a friend of mine. I also took her to a doctor who bandaged her feet - she bruised them badly running from Lin - and he gave her a sedative. My God, she's a wreck; she hasn't slept in days, and the pills didn't do much for her last night; she was too tense, still too frightened. I stayed with her and she talked until dawn. Let her rest. I'll pick her up in the morning.'

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