Remaining stooped, Bourne bowed rapidly twice and backed his way out of the crowd, dropping the snake entrails in the kerb far enough away from a street light so as not to be noticed. Holding the dripping cone of foul-smelling fish, he repeatedly mimed reaching for mouthfuls as he slowly made his way to the steps and descended into the steaming bowels of the Walled City. He looked at his watch, spilling fish as he did so. It was 9: 15; the taipan's patrols would be moving into place.
He had to know the extent of the banker's security. He wanted the lie that he had told a marksman in a deserted office above the harbour walkway to be the truth. Instead of being watched, he wanted to be the one watching. He would memorize each face, each role in the command structure, the rapidity with which each guard made a decision under pressure, the communications equipment, and above all discover where the weaknesses were in the taipan's security. David understood that Jason Bourne was taking over; there was a point in what he was doing. The banker's note had started with the words: A wife for a wife... Only one word had to be changed. A taipan for a wife.
Bourne turned into the alleyway on his left and walked several hundred feet past sights he scrupulously ignored; a resident of the Walled City would do no less. On a darkened staircase a woman on her knees performed the act for which she was being paid, the man above her holding money in his hand over her head; a young couple, two obvious addicts in near frenzy, were pleading with a man in an expensive black leather jacket; a small boy, smoking a marijuana cigarette, urinated against the stone wall; a beggar without legs clattered on his wheeled board over the cobblestones
chanting 'bong ngo. bong ngo!' a plea for alms; and on another dimly-lit staircase a well-dressed pimp was threatening one of his whores with facial disfigurement if she did not produce more money. David Webb mused that he was not in Disneyland. Jason Bourne studied the alley as if it were a combat zone behind enemy lines. 9: 24. The soldiers would be" going to their posts. The outer and the inner man turned around and started back.
The banker's whore was walking into position, her bright red blouse unbuttoned, barely covering her small breasts; the traditional slit in her black skirt reached her thigh. She was a caricature. The 'white man' was not to make a mistake. Point one: Accentuate the obvious. Something to remember; subtlety was not a strong suit. Several yards behind her a man spoke into a hand-held radio; he caught up with the woman, shook his head and rushed forward towards the end of the alley and the steps. Bourne stopped, his posture sagging, and turned into the wall. The footsteps were behind him, hurrying, emphatic, the pace quickening. A second Chinese approached and passed him, a small middle-aged man in a dark business suit, tie and shoes polished to a high gloss. He was no citizen of the Walled City; his expression was a mixture of apprehension and disgust. Ignoring the whore, he glanced at his watch and raced ahead. He had the look and demeanour of an executive ordered to assume duties he found distasteful. A company man, precise, orderly, the bottom line his motive, for the figures did not lie. A banker?
Jason studied the irregular row of staircases; the man must have come from one of them. The sound of the footsteps had been abrupt and recent, and judging by the pace, they had begun no more than 60 or 70 feet away. On the third staircase on the left or the fourth on the right. In one of the flats above either staircase a taipan was waiting for his visitor. Bourne had to find out which and on what level. The taipan must be surprised, even shocked. He had to understand whom he was dealing with and what his actions would cost him.
Jason started up again, now assuming a drunken walk; the words of an old Mandarin folk tune came to him. 'Me li hua cherng zhang liu yue,' he sang softly, bouncing gently off the
wall as he approached the whore. 'I have money,' he said pleasantly, his words in Chinese imprecise. 'And you, beautiful woman, have what I need. Where do we go?
'Nowhere, fancy drunk. Get away from here. '
'Bong ngo! Cheng bong ngo!' screeched the legless beggar clattering down the alley, careening into the wall as he screamed. 'Cheng bong ngo!'
'Jour yelled the woman. 'Get out of here before I kick your useless body off your board, Loo Mi! I've told you not to interfere with business!'
This cheap drunk is business! I'll get you something better!'
'He's not my business, darling. He's an annoyance. I'm waiting for someone. '
'Then I'll chop his feet!' shouted the grotesque figure, pulling a cleaver from his board.
'What the hell are you doing?' roared Bourne in English, shoving his foot into the beggar's chest, sending the half-man and his board into the opposite wall.
'There are laws? shrieked the beggar. 'You attacked a cripple! You are robbing a cripple!'
'Sue me,' said Jason, turning to the woman as the beggar clattered away down the alley.
'You talk... English.' The whore stared at him.
'So do you,' said Bourne.
'You speak Chinese, but you are not Chinese. '
'In spirit, perhaps. I've been looking for you. '
'You are the man?'
'I am. '
'I will take you to the taipan. '
'No. Just tell me which staircase, which level. '
Those are not my instructions. '
They're new instructions, given by the taipan. Do you question his new instructions?'
They must be delivered by his head-head man. '
The small Zhongguo ren in a dark suit?'
'He tells us everything. He pays us for the taipan. '
'Whom does he pay?
'Ask him yourself. '
The taipan wants to know.' Bourne reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of folded bills. 'He told me to give you extra money if you co-operated with me. He thinks his head man may be cheating him. '
The woman backed into the wall looking alternately at the money and at Bourne's face. 'If you are lying-'
'Why would I lie? The taipan wants to see me, you know that. You're to bring me to him. He told me to dress like this, to behave this way, to find you and watch his men. How would I know about you if he hadn't told me?
'Up in the market. You are to see someone. '
'I haven't been there. I came directly down here.' Jason removed several bills. 'We're both working for the taipan. Here, he wants you to take this and leave, but you're not to go up in the street.' He held out the money.
The taipan is generous,' said the whore, reaching for the bills.
'Which staircase?' asked Bourne, pulling the money back. 'Which level? The taipan didn't know. '
'Over there,' replied the woman, pointing to the far wall. The third steps, the second level. The money. '
'Who's on the head man's payroll? Quickly. '
'In the market there is the snake bitch, and the old thief selling bad gold chains from the north, and the wok man with his dirty fish and meat. '
That's all?
'We talk. That is all. '
The taipan's right, he's being cheated. He'll thank you.' Bourne unfolded another bill. 'But I want to be fair. Besides the one with the radio, how many others work for the head man?
'Three others, also with radios,' said the whore, her eyes fixed on the money, her hand inching forward.
'Here, take it and leave. Head that way and don't go up on the street. '
The woman grabbed the bills and ran down the alley, her high heels clicking, her figure disappearing in the dim light. Bourne watched until she was out of sight, then turned and walked rapidly out of the filthy passageway to the steps. He
again assumed his stooped appearance and climbed up into the street. Three guards and a head-head man. He knew what he had to do, and it had to be done quickly. It was 9: 36. A taipan for a wife.
He found the first guard talking to the fishmonger, talking anxiously with sharp, stabbing gestures. The noise of the crowd was an impediment. The vendor kept shaking his head. Bourne chose a heavy-set man near the guard; he rushed forward shoving the unsuspecting onlooker into the guard and sidestepped
as the taipan's man recoiled. In the brief melee that erupted, Jason pulled the bewildered guard aside, hammered his knuckles into the base of the man's throat, twisted him as he began to fall and slashed his rigid hand across the back of the guard's neck at the top of the spine. He dragged the unconscious man across the pavement, apologizing to the crowd in Chinese for his drunken friend. He dropped the guard in the remains of a storefront, took the radio and smashed it.
The taipan's second man required no such tactics. He was off to the side of the crowd by himself, shouting into his radio. Bourne approached, his sorry figure presenting no threat, and he held out his hand, as if he were a beggar. The guard waved him away; it was the last gesture he would remember, for Bourne gripped his wrist, twisted it, and broke the man's arm. Fourteen seconds later the taipan's second guard lay in the shadows of a mound of garbage, his radio thrown into the debris.
The third guard was in conference with the 'snake bitch'. To Bourne's satisfaction, she, too, kept shaking her head as the fishmonger had done; there was a certain loyalty in the Walled City where bribes were concerned. The man pulled out his radio, but had no chance to use it. Jason ran up to him, grabbed the ancient, toothless cobra and thrust its flat head into the man's face. His wide-eyed gasp, accompanied by a scream, was all the reaction Jason Bourne needed. The nerves in the throat are a magnificent network of immobilizing, cordlike fibres connecting the body organs to the central nervous system. Bourne played upon them swiftly, and once again dragged his victim through the crowd, apologizing
profusely as he left the unconscious guard on a dark patch of concrete. He held the radio up to his ear; there was nothing on the receiver. It was 9: 40. One head-head man remained.
The small, middle-aged Chinese in the expensive suit and polished shoes all but held his nose as he raced from one point to another trying to spot his men, reluctant to make the slightest physical contact with the hordes gathered around the vendors' stalls and tables. His lack of height made it hard for him to see. Bourne watched where he was heading, ran ahead of him, then quickly turned around and sent his fist crashing into the executive's lower abdomen. As the Chinese buckled over, Jason reached around the man's waist with his left arm, picked him up and carried the limp figure to a section of the kerb where two men sat, weaving, passing a bottle back and forth. He placed a Wushu chop across the banker's neck and dropped him between his new companions. Through their haze the drunken men would make sure their new associate stayed unconscious for a considerable length of time. There were pockets to ransack, clothes and a pair of shoes to be removed. All would bring a price, whatever cash there was a bonus for their labours. 9: 43.
Bourne no longer stooped, gone was the chameleon. He rushed across the street overflowing with humanity and raced down the steps and into the alley. He had done it! He had removed the Praetorian Guard. A taipan for a wife! He reached the staircase - the third staircase in the right wall -and yanked out the remarkable weapon he had purchased from an arms merchant in the Mongkok. As quietly as he could manage, testing each step with a foot, he climbed to the second level. He braced himself outside the door, balanced his weight, lifted his left leg and smashed it into the thin wood.
The door crashed open. He sprang through and crouched, the weapon extended.
Three men faced him, forming a semicircle, each with a gun aimed at his head. Behind them, dressed in a white silk suit, a huge Chinese sat in a chair. The man nodded to his guards.
He had lost. Bourne had miscalculated and David Webb would die. Far more excruciating, he knew Marie's death
would soon follow. Let them fire, thought David. Pull the triggers that would mercifully put him out of it! He had killed the only thing that mattered in his life. 'Shoot, goddamn you! Shoot?
11
'Welcome, Mr Bourne,' said the large man in the white silk suit, waving his guards aside. 'I assume you see the logic of putting your gun on the floor and pushing it away from you. There's really no alternative, you know. '
Webb looked at the three Chinese; the man in the centre cracked the hammer back on his automatic. David lowered the gun and shoved it forward. 'You expected me, didn't you? he asked quietly, getting to his feet as the guard on his right picked up the weapon.
'We didn't know what to expect - except the unexpected. How did you do it? Are my people dead?5
'No. They're bruised and unconscious, not dead. '
'Remarkable. You thought I was alone here?
'I was told you travelled with your head man and three others, not six. I thought it was logical. Any more it seemed to me would be conspicuous. '
'That's why these men came early to make arrangements and have not left this hole since they arrived. So you thought you could take me, exchange me for your wife. '
'It's obvious that she didn't have a damn thing to do with it. Let her go; she can't hurt you. Kill me but let her go.
'Pi ge!' said the banker, ordering two of the guards out of the flat; they bowed and left quickly. 'This man will remain,' he continued, turning back to Webb. 'Apart from the immense loyalty he has for me he doesn't speak or understand a word of English. '
'I see you trust your people. '
'I trust no one.' The financier gestured at a dilapidated wooden chair across the shabby room, revealing as he did so a gold Rolex on his wrist, diamonds encrusted around its dial matching his bejewelled gold cufflinks. 'Sit down,' he ordered. 'I've gone to great lengths and spent much money to bring about this conference. '
'Your head man - I assume it was your head man,' said Bourne aimlessly, studying every detail of the room as he walked over to the chair, 'told me not to wear an expensive watch down here. I guess you didn't listen to him. '
'I arrived in a soiled, filthy kaftan with sleeves wide enough to conceal it. As I look at your clothes, I'm certain the Chameleon understands. '
'You're Yao Ming.' Webb sat down.
'It is a name I've used, you surely understand that. The Chameleon goes by many shapes and colours. '
'I didn't kill your wife - or the man who happened to be with her. '
'I know that, Mr Webb... '
'You what?' David shot up from the chair, as the guard took a rapid step forward, his gun levelled.
'Sit down,' repeated the banker. 'Don't alarm my devoted friend or we both may regret it, you far more than me. '
'You knew it wasn't me and still you've done this to us!'
'Sit quickly, please. '
'I want an answer? said Webb, sitting down.
'Because you are the true Jason Bourne. That is why you are here, why your wife remains in my custody, and will remain so until you accomplish what I ask of you. '
'I talked to her. '
'I know you did. I permitted it. '
'She didn't sound like herself - even considering the circumstances. She's strong, stronger than I was during those lousy weeks in Switzerland and Paris. Something's wrong with her! Is she drugged?'
'Certainly not. '
'Is she hurt?
'In spirit, perhaps, but not in any other way. However, she
will be hurt and she will die, if you refuse me. Can I be clearer?
'You're dead, taipan. '
'The true Bourne speaks. That's very good. It's what I need. '
'Spell it out. '
'I am being hounded by someone in your name,' began the taipan, his voice hard, his intensity mounting. 'Far more severely - may the spirits forgive me - than the loss of a young wife. From all sides in all areas, the terrorist, this new Jason Bourne, attacks! He kills my people, blows up shipments of valuable merchandise, threatens other taipans with death if they do business with me! His exorbitant fees come from my enemies here in Hong Kong and Macao, and up the Deep Bay water routes north into the provinces themselves!'
'You have a lot of enemies. '
'My interests are extensive. '
'So, I was told, were those of the man I didn't kill in Macao. '
'Oddly enough,' said the bank
er, breathing hard and gripping the arm of his chair in an effort to control himself, 'he and I were not enemies. In certain areas our interests converged. It's how he met my wife. '
'How convenient. Shared assets, as it were. '
'You are offensive. '
They're not my rules,' replied Bourne, his eyes cold, levelled at the Oriental. 'Get to the point. My wife's alive and I want her back without a mark on her or a voice raised against her. If she's harmed in any way whatsoever, you and your Zhongguo ren won't be any match for what I'll mount against you. '
'You are not in a position to make threats, Mr Webb. '
Robert Ludlum - Bourne 2 - Bourne Supremecy Page 19