The Bourne Supremacy

'Yes, you are. Because right now you're in one. '

'I beg your pardon?

'I have a very special gun under the table. It's aimed between your legs. ' Within the space of a second, Jason held back the cloth, pulled up the weapon so the barrel could be seen, and immediately shoved the gun back into place. 'It has a silencer that reduces the sound of a forty-five to the pop of a Champagne cork, but not the impact. Liao jie mu?'

'Liao jie... ' said the Oriental, rigid, breathing deeply in fear. 'You are with Special Branch?

'I'm with no one but myself.4

There is no half million dollars, then?

There's whatever you consider your life is worth. '

'Why me?'

'You're on a list,' Bourne had answered truthfully.

'For execution? whispered the Chinese, gasping, his face contorted.

'That depends on you. '

'I must pay you not to kill me?

'In a sense, yes. '

'I don't carry half a million dollars in my pockets! Nor here on the premises!'

'Then pay me something else. '

'What! How much! You confuse me!'

'Information instead of money. '

'What information? asked the Chinese as his fear turned into panic . 'What information would I have? Why come to me?

'Because you've had dealings with a man I want to find. The one for hire who calls himself Jason Bourne. '

'No! Never did it happen!'

The Oriental's hands began to tremble. The veins in his throat throbbed, and his eyes for the first time strayed from Jason's face. The man had lied.

'You're a liar,' said Bourne quietly, pushing his right arm farther underneath the table as he leaned forward. 'You made the connection in Macao. '

'Macao, yes! But no connection. I swear on the graves of my family for generations!'

'You're very close to losing your stomach and your life. You were sent to Macao to reach him!'

'I was sent, but I did not reach him!'

'Prove it to me. How were you to make contact?

The Frenchman. I was to stand on the top steps of the burned-out Basilica of St Paul on the Calcada. I was to wear a black kerchief around my neck and when a man came up to me – a Frenchman – and remarked about the beauty of the ruins, I was to say the following words: "Cain is for Delta." If he replied, "And Carlos is for Cain", I was to accept him as the link to Jason Bourne. But I swear to you, he never-'

Bourne did not hear the remainder of the man's protestations. Staccato explosions erupted in his head; his mind was thrown back. Blinding white light filled his eyes, the crashing sounds unbearable. Cain is for Delta and Carlos is for Cain... Cain is for Delta! Delta One is Cain! Medusa moves; the snake sheds his skin. Cain is in Paris and Carlos will be his! They were the words, the codes, the challenges hurled at the Jackal. I am Cain and I am superior and I am here! Come find me, Jackal! I dare you to find Cain for he kills better than you do. You'd better find me before I find you, Carlos. You're no match for Cain!

Good God! Who halfway across the world would know those words – could know them? They were locked away in the deepest archives of covert operations! They were a direct connection to Medusa!

Bourne had nearly squeezed the trigger of the unseen automatic, so sudden was the shock of this incredible revelation. He removed his index finger, placing it around the trigger housing; he had come close to killing a man for revealing extraordinary information. But how! How could it have happened! Who was the conduit to the new 'Jason Bourne' that knew such things?

He had to come down, he knew that. His silence was betraying him, betraying his astonishment. The Chinese was staring at him; the man was inching his hand beyond the edge of the booth. 'Pull that back, or your balls and your stomach will be blown away. '

The Oriental's shoulder yanked up and his hand appeared on the table. 'What I have told you is true, the man said. The Frenchman never came to me. If he had, I would tell you everything. So would you if you were me. I protect only myself. '

'Who sent you to make the contact? Who gave you the words to use?

That is honestly beyond me, you must believe that. All is done by telephone through second and third parties who know only the information they carry. The proof of integrity is in the arrival of the funds I am paid. '

How do they arrive? Someone has to give them to you. '

'Someone who is a no one, who is hired himself. An unfamiliar host of an expensive dinner party will ask to see the manager. I will accept his compliments and during our conversation an envelope will be slipped to me. I will have ten thousand American dollars for reaching the Frenchman. '

Then what? How do you reach him?

'One goes to Macao, to the Kam Pek casino in the downtown area. It is mostly for the Chinese, for the games of Fan Tan and Dai Sui. One goes to Table Five and leaves the telephone number of a Macao hotel – not a private telephone – and a name – any name – not one's own, naturally. '

'He calls you at that number?

'He may or he may not. You stay twenty-four hours in Macao. If he has not called you by then, you have been turned down because the Frenchman has no time for you. '

Those are the rules?

'Yes. I was turned down twice, and the single time I was accepted he did not appear at the Calcada steps. '

'Why do you think you were turned down? Why do you think he didn't show up?

'I have no idea. Perhaps he has too much business for his master killer. Perhaps I said the wrong things to him on the first two occasions. Perhaps on the third he thought he saw suspicious men on the Calcada, men he believed were with me and meant him no good. There were no such people, naturally, but there is no appeal. '

Table Five. The dealers,' said Bourne.

The croupiers change constantly. His arrangement is with the table. A blanket fee, I imagine. To be divided. And certainly he does not go to the Kam Pek himself – he undoubtedly hires a whore from the streets. He is very cautious, very professional.'

'Do you know anyone else who's tried to reach this Bourne?' asked Bourne. 'I'll know if you're lying. '

'I think you would. You are obsessed – which is not my business – and you trapped me in my first denial. No, I do not, sir. That is the truth, for I do not care to have my intestines blown away with the sound of a champagne cork;'

'You can't get much more basic than that. In the words of another man, I think I believe you. '

'Believe, sir. I am only a courier – an expensive one, perhaps – but a courier, nevertheless. '

'Your waiters are something else, I'm told. '

They have not been noticeably observant. '

'You'll still accompany me to the door,' he had said.

And now there was the third name, a third man, in the downpour at Repulse Bay.

The contact had responded to the code: 'Ecoutez, monsieur. "Cain is for Delta and Carlos is for Cain."'

'We were to meet in Macao!' the man had shrieked over the telephone. 'Where were you?'

'Busy,' said Jason.

'You may be too late. My client has very little time and he is very knowledgeable. He hears that your man moves elsewhere. He is disturbed. You promised him, Frenchman!'

'Where does he think my man is going?

'On another assignment, of course. He's heard the details!'

'He's wrong. The man is available if the price is met. '

'Call me back in several minutes. I will speak to my client and see if matters are to be pursued. '

Bourne had called five minutes later. Consent was given, the rendezvous set. Repulse Bay. One hour. The statue of the war god halfway down the beach on the left towards the pier. The contact would wear a black kerchief around his neck; the code was to remain the same.

Jason looked at his watch; it was twelve minutes past the hour. The contact was late, and the rain was not a problem; on the contrary, it was an advantage, a natural cover. Bourne had scouted every foot of the meeting ground, forty feet in every direction that had a sight line to the statue of the idol, and he had done so after the appointed time, using up minutes as he kept his eyes on the path to the statue. Nothing so far was irregular. There was no trap in the making.