Robert Ludlum: The Bourne Supremacy

'Oh, they are, they are,' agreed the colonel.

'Surely they have to be for such an illustrious officer as yourself to make sure of their requirements. I made the telephone call to the man in Guangzhou, as you requested, and he thanked me, but he did not get my name-'

'I will make sure he has it,' Soo broke in, wearily.

'And I will keep only my best people on the gates to greet them when they return later tonight to Macao. '

Soo looked at the woman. 'That won't be necessary. They will be taken to Beijing for strictly confidential, highest-level conferences. My orders are to remove all records of their having crossed the Guangdong border. '

'That confidential?

'Ever so, Madame Comrade. These are secret affairs of state and must be kept as such even from your most intimate associates. Your office, please. '

'At once,' said the broad shouldered woman, turning with military precision. 'I have tea or coffee, and even the British whisky from Hong Kong. '

'Ah, yes, the British whisky. May I escort you, Comrade? My work is finished.'

The two somewhat grotesquely Wagnerian figures marched in waddling lockstep towards the streaked glass door of the prefect's office.

'Cigarettes!' whispered Bourne, gripping McAllister's shoulder.

'Where?'

'Up ahead, off the road on the left. In the woods!'

'I didn't see them. '

'You weren't looking for them. They're being cupped but they're there. The bark of the trees gets a touch of light one moment, then it's dark the next. No rhythm, just erratic. Men smoking. Sometimes I think the Far East likes cigarettes more than sex. '

'What do we do?'

'Exactly what we're doing, only louder. '

What?

'Keep walking and say whatever comes to mind. They won't understand. I'm sure you know Hiawatha or Horatio on the Bridge, or some chant from your wild college days. Don't sing, just say the words; it'll keep your mind off things. '

'But why?

'Because this is what you predicted. Sheng is making sure that we don't link up with anyone who could be a threat to him. Let's give him that reassurance, okay?

'Oh, my God! Suppose one of them speaks English?

'It's highly unlikely, but if you'd rather we'll just improvise a conversation. ' 'No, I'm not good at that. I hate parties and dinners, I never know what to say. '

That's why I suggested the doggerel. I'll interrupt whenever you pause. Go ahead now, speak casually but rapidly. This is no place for Chinese scholars who speak fast English... The cigarettes are out. They've spotted us! Goon!'

'Oh, Lord... very well. Ah, ah... "Sitting on O'Reilly's porch, telling tales of blood and slaughter-"'

That's very appropriate? said Jason, glaring at his pupil.

'"Suddenly it came to me, why not shag O'Reilly's daughter"-'

'Why, Edward, you constantly surprise me. ' 'It's an old fraternity song,' whispered the analyst . 'What! I can't hear you, Edward. Speak up. ' '"Fiddilly-eye-eee, fiddilly-eye-oWj, Fiddilly-eye-eee to the one ball Reilly"-' That's terrific!' interrupted Bourne, as they passed the section of the woods where only seconds ago concealed men had been smoking. 'I think your friend will appreciate your point of view. Any further thoughts?

'I forgot the words. '

'Your thoughts, you mean. I'm sure they'll come to you. '

'Something about "old man Reilly" ... Oh, yes, I remember. First there was "Shag, shag and shag some more, shag until the fun was over", and then came old Reilly... "Two horse pistols by his side, looking for the dog who shagged his daughter". I did remember. '

'You belong in a museum, if there's one in your home town... But look at it this way, you can research the entire project back in Macao. '

'What project?... There was another that was always great fun. "A hundred bottles of beer on the wall, a hundred bottles of beer; one fell down-" Oh, Lord, it's been so long. It was repetitious reduction– "ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall"-'

'Forget it, they're out of earshot. '

'Oh? Earshot? Thank God?

'You sounded fine. If any of those clowns understood a word of English, they're even more confused than I am. Well done, analyst. Come on, let's walk faster. '

McAllister looked at Jason. 'You did that on purpose, didn't you? You prodded me into remembering something -anything – knowing I'd concentrate and not panic. '

Bourne did not answer; he simply made a statement . 'Another hundred feet and you keep going by yourself. '

'What! You're leaving me?

'For about ten, maybe fifteen, minutes. Here, keep walking and angle your arm up so I can put my briefcase on it and open the damn thing. '

'Where are you going? asked the undersecretary as the attaché case rested awkwardly on his left arm. Jason opened it, took out a long-bladed knife, and closed the case. 'You can't leave me alone!'

'You'll be all right, nobody wants to stop you – us. If they did, it would have been done. '

'You mean that could have been an ambush?'

'I was counting on your analytical mind that it wasn't. Take the case. '

'But what are you-'

'I have to see what's back there. Keep walking. ' The man from Medusa spun off to his left and entered the woods at a turn in the road. Running rapidly, silently, instinctively avoiding the tangled underbrush at the first touch of resistance, he moved to his right in a wide semicircle. Minutes later he saw the glow of cigarettes, and moving like a forest cat, crept closer and closer until he was within ten feet of the group of men. The intermittent moonlight, filtered through the massive trees, provided enough illumination for him to count the number. There were six, each armed with a lightweight machine gun strapped over his shoulders... And there was something else, something that was strikingly inconsistent. Each of the men wore the four-buttoned, tailored uniforms of high officers in the army of the People's Republic. And from the snatches of conversation that he could hear, they spoke Mandarin, not Cantonese, which was the normal dialect for soldiers, even officers, of the Guangdong garrison. These men were not from Guangdong. Sheng had flown in his own elite guard.

Suddenly, one of the officers snapped his lighter and looked at his watch. Bourne studied the face above the flame. He knew it, and seeing it confirmed his judgement. It was the face of the man who had tried to trap Echo by posing as a prisoner on the truck that terrible night, the officer Sheng treated with a degree of deference. A thinking killer with a soft voice.

'Xian zai,' said the man, stating that the moment had come. He picked up a hand-held radio and spoke. 'Da li shi, da li shir he barked, raising his party by the code name marble. 'They are alone, there is no one else. We will proceed as instructed. Prepare for the signal. '

The six officers rose together, adjusted their weapons and extinguished their cigarettes by grinding them under their boots. They started rapidly for the back country road.

Bourne scrambled round on his hands and knees, got to his feet and raced through the woods. He had to reach McAllister before Sheng's contingent closed in on him and saw through the sporadic moonlight that he was alone. Should the guards become alarmed they might send a different 'signal' – conference aborted. He reached the turn in the road and ran faster, jumping over fallen branches other men would not see, slithering through vines and linked foliage others would not anticipate. In less than two minutes he sprang silently out of the woods at McAllister's side.

'Good God!' gasped the undersecretary of state.

'Be quiet!'

'You're a maniac!'

Tell me about it. '

'It would take hours. ' With trembling hands, McAllister handed Jason his attaché case. 'At least this didn't explode. '

'I should have told you not to drop it or jar it too much. '