Robert Ludlum: The Bourne Supremacy

'I don't remember that,' said David.

The man from State nodded sympathetically. 'Yes, I was told. But don't you see, if the killings are perceived as political and powerful figures – let's say the Crown governor, or a PRC negotiator, anyone like that – is assassinated, the whole colony is in an uproar. ' McAllister paused, shaking his head in weary dismissal. 'However, this is our concern, not yours, and I can tell you we have the best men in the intelligence community working on it. Your concern is yourself, Mr. Webb. And right now, as a matter of conscience, it's mine. You have to be protected. '

That file,' said Marie coldly, 'should never have been given to anyone?

'We had no choice. We work closely with the British; we had to prove that Treadstone was over, finished. That your husband was thousands of miles away from Hong Kong. '

'You told them where he was?' shouted Webb's wife. 'How dare you?"

'We had no choice,' repeated McAllister, again rubbing his forehead. 'We have to co-operate when certain crises arise.

Surely you can understand that . '

'What I can't understand is why there ever was a file on my husband!' said Marie, furious. 'It was deep, deep, cover?

'Congressional funding of intelligence operations demanded it. It's the law. '

'Get off it!' said David angrily. 'Since you're so up on me, you know where I come from. Tell me, where are all those records on Medusa?

'I can't answer that,' replied McAllister.

'You just did,' said Webb.

'Dr Panov pleaded with you people to destroy all the Treadstone records,' insisted Marie. 'Or at the very least to use false names, but you wouldn't even do that. What kind of men are you?

'I would have agreed to both? said McAllister with sudden, surprising force. 'I'm sorry, Mrs.. Webb. Forgive me. It was before my time... Like you, I'm offended. You may be right, perhaps there never should have been a file. There are ways-'

'Bullshit,' broke in David, his voice hollow. 'It's part of another strategy, another trap. You want Carlos, and you don't care how you get him. '

'I care, Mr. Webb, and you don't have to believe that, either. What's the Jackal to me – or the Far East Section? He's a European problem. '

'Are you telling me I spent three years of my life hunting a man who didn't mean a goddamned thing?5

'No, of course not. Times change, perspectives change. It's all so futile sometimes. '

'Jesus Christ!'

'Loosen up, David,' said Marie, her attention briefly on the man from State, who sat pale in his chair, his hands gripping the arms. 'Let's all loosen up. ' Then she held her husband's eyes with her own. 'Something happened this afternoon, didn't it?

'I'll tell you later,'

'Of course. ' Marie looked at McAllister as David sank back in his chair, his face lined and tired, older than it had been only minutes ago. 'Everything you've told us is leading up to something, isn't it?' she said to the man from State. There's something else you want us to know. '

'Yes, and it's not easy for me. Please bear in mind that I've only recently been assigned, with full clearance, to Mr. Webb's classified dossier. '

'Including his wife and children in Cambodia?'

'Yes. '

'Then say what you have to say, please. '

McAllister once again extended his thin fingers and nervously massaged his forehead. 'From what we've learned -what London confirmed five hours ago – it's possible that your husband is a target. A man wants him killed.'

'But not Carlos, not the Jackal,' said Webb, sitting forward.

'No. At least we can't see a connection. 'What do you see?' asked Marie, sitting on the arm of David's chair. 'What have you learned?'

The MI6 officer in Kowloon had a great many sensitive papers in his office, any number of which would have brought high prices in Hong Kong. However, only the Treadstone file – the file on Jason Bourne – was taken. That was the confirmation London gave us. It's as though a signal was sent: He's the man we want, only Jason Bourne.'

'But why?' cried Marie, her hand gripping David's wrist.

'Because someone was killed,' answered Webb quietly. 'And someone else wants the account settled. '

That's what we've been working on,' agreed McAllister, nodding. 'We've made some progress. '

'Who was killed?' asked the former Jason Bourne.

'Before I answer, you should know that all we've got is what our people in Hong Kong could dig up by themselves. By and large it's speculation; there's no proof.'

'What do you mean "by themselves"? Where the hell were the British? You gave them the Treadstone file!'

'Because they gave us proof that a man has killed in the name of Treadstone's creation, our creation – you. They weren't about to identify MI6's sources any more than we would turn over our contacts to them. Our people have worked around the clock, probing every possibility, trying to find out who the dead Sixer's main sources were on the assumption that one of them was responsible for his death. They ran down a rumour in Macao, only it turned out to be more than a rumour. '

'I repeat,' said Webb . 'Who was killed?'

'A woman,' answered the man from State. The wife of a Hong Kong banker named Yao Ming, a taipan whose bank is only a fraction of his wealth. His holdings are so extensive he's been re-welcomed in Beijing as an investor and consultant. He's influential, powerful, beyond reach. '

'Circumstances?'

'Ugly but not unusual. His wife was a minor actress who appeared in a number of locally made films and quite a bit younger than her husband. She was also about as faithful as a mink in season, if you'll excuse-'

'Please,' said Marie, 'go on. '

'Nevertheless, he looked the other way; she was his young, beautiful trophy. She was also part of the colony's jet set, which has its share of unsavoury characters. One weekend it's gambling for extraordinary stakes in Macao, next the races in Singapore or flying over to the Pescadores for the pistol games in backwater opium houses, betting thousands on who will be killed as men face one another across tables, spinning chambers and aiming at each other. And, of course, there's a widespread use of drugs. Her last lover was a distributor. His suppliers were in Guangzhou – Canton – his routes up the Deep Bay waterways east of the Lok Ma Chau border. '

'According to reports, it's a wide avenue with lots of traffic,' interrupted Webb . 'Why did your people concentrate on him – on his operation?'

'Because his operation, as you so aptly term it, was rapidly becoming the only one in town, or on that avenue. He was systematically cutting out his competitors, bribing the Chinese marine patrols to sink their boats and dispose of the crews. Apparently they were effective; a great many bodies riddled with bullets ended up floating onto the mud flats and into the river banks. The factions were at war and the distributor – the young wife's lover – was marked for execution. '

'Under the circumstances, he had to have been aware of the possibility. He must have surrounded himself with a dozen bodyguards. '

'Right again. And that kind of security calls for the talents of a legend. His enemies hired that legend. '

'Bourne,' whispered David, shaking his head and closing his eyes.

'Yes,' concurred McAllister. Two weeks ago the drug dealer and Yao Ming's wife were shot in their bed at the Lisboa Hotel in Macao. It wasn't a pleasant kill; their bodies were barely recognizable. The weapon was an Uzi machine gun. The incident was covered up, the police and government officials bribed with a great deal of money – a taipan's money. '

'And let me guess,' said Webb in a monotone. 'The Uzi. It was the same weapon used in a previous killing credited to this Bourne. '

'That specific weapon was left outside a conference room in a cabaret in Kowloon's Tsim Sha Tsui. There were five corpses in that room, three of the victims among the colony's wealthier businessmen. The British won't elaborate; they merely showed us several very graphic photographs. '