'Webb isn't,' agreed the once most hunted man in Asia and Europe. 'Bourne is. '
The Oriental looked hard at Jason, nodding twice as his eyes dropped below Webb's gaze. 'Your audacity matches your arrogance. To the point. It's very simple, very clear cut.' The taipan suddenly clenched his right hand into a fist, then raised it and crashed it down on the fragile arm of the decrepit
chair. 'I want proof against my enemies!' he shouted, his angry eyes peering out behind two partially closed walls of swollen flesh. The only way I'll get it is for you to bring me this all too credible impostor who takes your place! I want him facing me, watching me as he feels his life leaving him in agony until he tells me everything I must know. Bring him to me, Jason Bourne!' The banker breathed deeply, then added quietly. 'Then, and only then, will you be reunited with your wife. '
Webb stared at the taipan in silence. 'What makes you think I can do it? he said finally.
'Who better to trap a pretender than the original. '
'Words,' said Webb. 'Meaningless. '
'He's studied you! He's analysed your methods, your techniques. He could not pass himself off as you if he had not. Find him! Trap him with the tactics you yourself created. '
'Just like that?
'You'll have help. Several names and descriptions, men I am convinced are involved with this new killer who uses an old name. '
'Over in Macao?
'Never! It must not be Macao! There's to be no mention, no reference whatsoever to the incident at the Lisboa Hotel. It is closed, finished; you know nothing about it. In no way can my person be associated with what you are doing. You have nothing to do with me! If you surface, you are hunting a man who has assumed your mantle. You are protecting yourself, defending yourself. A perfectly natural thing to do under the circumstances. '
'I thought you wanted proof-'
'It will come when you bring me the impostor? shouted the taipan.
'If not Macao, where then?
'Here in Kowloon. In the Tsim Sha Tsui. Five men were slain in the back room of a cabaret, among them a banker -like myself, a taipan,. my associate from time to time and no less influential - as well as three others whose identities were concealed; apparently it was a government decision. I've never found out who they were. '
'But you know who the fifth man was,' said Bourne.
'He worked for me. He took my place at that meeting. Had I been there myself, your namesake would have killed me. This is where you will start, here in Kowloon, in the Tsim Sha Tsui. I will give you the names of the two known dead and the identities of many men who were the enemies of both, now my enemies. Move quickly. Find the man who kills in your name and bring him to me. And a last warning, Mr Bourne. Should you try to find out who I am the order will be swift, the execution swifter. Your wife will die. '
'Then so will you. Give me the names. '
'They're on this paper,' said the man who used the name' Yao Ming, reaching into the pocket of his white silk vest. 'They were typed by a public stenographer at The Mandarin. There would be no point in trying to trace a specific typewriter. '
'A waste of time,' said Bourne, taking the sheet of paper. There must be twenty million typewriters in Hong Kong. '
'But not so many taipans of my size and girth, eh?
That I'll remember. '
'I'm sure you will. '
'How do I reach you?'
'You don't. Ever. This meeting never took place. '
Then why did it? Why did everything that's happened take place? Say I manage to find and take this cretin who calls himself Bourne - and it's a damn big if - what do I do with him? Leave him on the steps outside here in the Walled City?'
'It could be a splendid idea. Drugged, no one would pay the slightest attention beyond rifling his pockets. '
'I'd pay a lot of attention. A prize for a prize, taipan. I want an ironclad guarantee. I want my wife back. '
'What would you consider such a guarantee?'
'First her voice on the phone convincing me she's unharmed, and then I want to see her - say, walking up and down a street under her own power with no one near her. '
'Jason Bourne speaks?
'He speaks. '
'Very well. We've developed a high technology industry here in Hong Kong, ask anyone in the electronics business in
your country. On the bottom of that page is a telephone number. When and if - and only when and if - the impostor is in your hands call that number and repeat the words "snake lady" several times-'
'Medusa] whispered Jason, interrupting. 'Airborne. '
The taipan arched his brows, his expression noncommittal. 'Naturally, I was referring to the woman in the bazaar. '
'Like hell you were. Go on. '
'As I say, repeat the words several times until you hear clicks-'
'Triggering another number, or numbers,' broke in Bourne again.
'Something to do with the sounds of the phrase, I believe,' agreed the taipan. 'The sibilant s, followed by a flat vowel and hard consonants. Ingenious, wouldn't you say?'
'It's called aurally receptive programming, instruments activated by a voice print. '
'Since you're not impressed, do let me emphasize the condition under which the call may be made. For your wife's sake, I hope it impresses you. The call is to be placed only when you are prepared to deliver the impostor within a matter of minutes. Should you or anyone else use the number and the code words without that guarantee, I'll know a trace is being put out over the lines. In that event, your wife will be killed, and a dead, disfigured white woman without identification dropped into the waters of the out islands. Do I make myself clear?5
Swallowing, suppressing his fury despite the sickening fear, Bourne spoke icily. 'The condition is understood. Now you understand mine. When and if I make that call, I'll want to speak to my wife - not within minutes but within seconds. If I don't, whoever's on the line will hear the gunshot and you'll know that your assassin, the prize you say you've got to have, has just had his head blown away. You'll have thirty seconds. '
'Your condition is understood and will be met. I'd say the conference is over, Jason Bourne. '
'I want my weapon. One of the guards who left has it. '
'It will be given to you on your way out.' 'He'll take my word for it?'
'He doesn't have to. If you walked out of here, he was to give it to you. A corpse has no need of a gun. '
What remain of the stately homes from Hong Kong's extravagant colonial era are high in the hills above the city in an area known as Victoria Peak, named for the island's mountain summit, the crown of all the territory. Here graceful gardens complement rose-bordered paths that lead to gazebos and verandas from which the wealthy observe the splendours of the harbour below and the out islands in the distance. The residences that spring up from the most enviable views are subdued versions of the great houses of Jamaica. They are high-ceilinged and intricate; rooms flow into one another at odd angles to take advantage of summer breezes during that long and oppressive season, and everywhere there is polished carved wood surrounding and reinforcing windows made to withstand the winds and the rains of the mountain winter. Strength and comfort are joined in these minor mansions, the designs dictated by climate.
One such house in the Peak district, however, differed from the others. Not in size or strength or elegance, nor in the beauty of its gardens, which were rather more extensive than many of its neighbours', nor in the impressiveness of its front gate and the height of the stone wall bordering the grounds. Part of what made it seem different was the sense of isolation that surrounded it, especially at night when only a few lights burned in the numerous rooms and no sounds came from the windows or the gardens. It was as if the house were barely inhabited; certainly there was no sign of frivolity. But what dramatically set it apart were the men at the gate and others like them who could be seen from the road patrolling the grounds beyond the wall. They were armed and in fatigue uniforms. They were American mar
ines.
The property was leased by the United States Consulate at the direction of the National Security Council. To any inquiries, the consulate was to comment only that during the
next month numerous representatives of the American government and American industry would be flying into the colony at various undetermined times, and security as well as the efficacy of accommodations warranted the lease. It was all the consulate knew. However, selected personnel in British MI6, Special Branch, were given somewhat more information, as their co-operation was deemed necessary and had been authorized by London. However, again, it was limited to an immediate-need-to-know basis, also firmly agreed to by London. Those on the highest levels of both governments, including the closest advisers to the President and the Prime Minister, came to the same conclusion: Any disclosures regarding the true nature of the property in Victoria Peak could have catastrophic consequences for the Far East and the world. It was a sterile house, the headquarters of a covert operation so sensitive that even the President and the Prime Minister knew few of the details, only the objectives.
A small sedan drove up to the gate. Instantly, powerful floodlights were tripped, blinding the driver, who brought his arm up to shield his eyes. Two marine guards approached on either side of the vehicle, their weapons drawn.
'You should know the car by now, lads,' said the large Oriental in the white silk suit squinting through the open window.
'We know the car, Major Lin,' replied the lance corporal on the left. 'We just have to make sure of the driver. '
'Who could impersonate me?' joked the huge major.
'Man Mountain Dean, sir,' answered the marine on the right.
'Oh, yes, I recall. An American wrestler. '
'My granddad used to talk about him. '
Thank you, son. You might have at least said your father. May I proceed or am I impounded?'
'We'll turn off the lights and open the gate, sir,' said the first marine. 'By the way. Major, thanks for the name of that restaurant in the Wanchai. It's a class act and doesn't bust the bankroll. '
'But, alas, you found no Suzie Wing. '
'Who, sir?'
'Never mind. The gate, if you please, lads. '
Inside the house, in the library which had been converted into an office, Undersecretary of State Edward Newington McAllister sat behind a desk, studying the pages of a dossier under the glare of a lamp, making checkmarks in the margins beside certain paragraphs and certain lines. His attention was riveted. The intercom buzzed and he had to force his eyes and his hand to the telephone. 'Yes?' He listened and replied. 'Send him in, of course.' McAllister hung up and returned to the dossier in front of him, the pencil in his hand. On the top of the page he was reading were the words repeated in the same position on each page: Ultra Maximum Classified. PRC. Internal. Sheng Chou Yang.
The door opened and the immense Major Lin Wenzu of British Intelligence, MI6, Special Branch, Hong Kong, walked in, closed the door, and smiled at the absorbed figure of McAllister.
'It's still the same, isn't it, Edward? Buried in the words there's a pattern, a line to follow. '
'I wish I could find it,' answered the undersecretary of state, reading feverishly.
'You will, my friend. Whatever it is. '
'I'll be with you in a moment. '
''Take your time,' said the major, removing the gold Rolex wristwatch and the cufflinks. He placed them on the desk and spoke quietly. 'Such a pity to give these back. They add a certain presence to my presence. You will, however, pay for the suit, Edward. It's not basic to my wardrobe, but as ever in Hong Kong, it was reasonable, even for one of my size. '
'Yes, of course,' agreed the undersecretary, preoccupied.
Major Lin sat down in the black leather chair in front of the desk, remaining silent for the better part of a minute. It was obvious that he could remain silent no longer. 'Is that anything I might help you with, Edward? Or more to the point, is it anything that pertains to the job at hand? Something you can tell me about?'
'I'm afraid it isn't, Lin. On all counts. '
'You will have to tell us sooner or later. Our superiors in
London will have to tell us. "Do what he asks, " they say. "Keep records of all conversations and directives, but follow his orders and advise him. " Advise him? There is no advice but tactics. A man in an unoccupied office firing four bullets into the wall of the harbour walk, six into the water and the rest blanks - thank God there were no cardiac arrests - and we've created the situation you want. Now, that we can understand-'
'I gather everything went very well. '
'There was a riot, if that's what you mean by "very well". '
'It's what I mean.' McAllister leaned back in his chair, the slender fingers of his right hand massaging his temples.
'Score one, my friend. The authentic Jason Bourne was convinced and he made his moves. Incidentally, you will pay for the hospitalization of one man with a broken arm and two others who claim they are still in shock with extremely painful necks. The fourth is too embarrassed to say anything. '
'Bourne's very good at what he does - what he did. '
'He's lethal, Edward!'
'You handled him, I gather. '
'Thinking every second he'd make another move and blow that filthy room apart! I was petrified. The man's a maniac. Incidentally, why is he to stay out of Macao? It's an odd restriction. '
'There's nothing he can't do from here. The killings took place here. The impostor's clients are obviously here in Hong Kong, not Macao. '
'As usual, that is no answer. '
'Let's put it another way, and this much I can tell you. Actually you already know it since you played the role tonight. The lie about our mythical taipan's young wife and lover having been murdered in Macao. Any thoughts on it?'
'An ingenious device,' said Lin, frowning. 'Few acts of vengeance are as readily understood as an "eye for an eye". In a sense, it's the basis of your strategy - what I know of it. '
'What do you think Webb would do if he found out it was a lie?'
'He couldn't. You made it clear the killings were covered up. '
'You underestimate him. Once in Macao, he'd turn over every piece of garbage to learn who this taipan is. He'd question every bellhop, every maid - probably threaten or bribe a dozen hotel personnel at the Lisboa and most of the police until he learned the truth. '
'But we have his wife, and that is not a lie. He will act accordingly. '
'Yes, but in a different dimension. Whatever he thinks now - and certainly he must have suspicions - he can't know, know for certain. If he digs in Macao, however, and learns the truth, he will have proof that he's been deceived by his government. '
'How specifically?'
'Because the lie was delivered to him by a senior official of the State Department, namely me. And by his lights at best, he. was betrayed before. '
'That much we do know. '
'I want a man at all times at immigration in Macao -around the clock. Hire people you can trust, and give them photographs but no information. Offer a bonus for anyone who spots him and calls you. '
'It can be done, but he wouldn't risk it. He believes the odds are against him. One informer in the hotel or at police headquarters and his wife dies. He wouldn't take the chance. '
'And we can't take that chance, however remote. If he found out that he's being used again - betrayed again - he might come unhinged, do things and say things that would have unthinkable consequences for us all. Frankly, if he heads for Macao, he could become a terrible liability rather than the asset we think we've created. '
'Termination?' asked the major simply.
'I can't use that word. '
'I don't think you'll have to. I was very convincing. I slammed my hand on the chair and raised my voice most effectively. "Your wife will die!" I yelled. He believed me. I should have trained for the opera. '
'You did well. '
'It was a performance worthy of Akim Tam
iroff. '
'Who?'
'Please. I went through this at the gate. '
'I beg your pardon?'
'Forget it. In Cambridge, they said I'd meet people like you. I had a don in Oriental History who said you can't let go, any of you. You insist on keeping secrets because the Zhongguo ren are inferior; they cannot comprehend. Is that the case here, yang guizi?'
'Good Lord, no. '
Then what are we doing! The obvious I understand. We recruit a man who's in the unique position of hunting a killer because the killer is impersonating him - impersonating the man he was. But to go to such lengths - kidnapping his wife, involving us, these elaborate and, frankly, dangerous games we play. Truthfully, Edward, when you gave me the scenario, I, myself, questioned London. "Follow orders, " they repeated. "Above all, keep silent. " Well, as you said a moment ago, it's not good enough. We should be told more. Without knowledge, how can Special Branch assume responsibility?'
Robert Ludlum - Bourne 2 - Bourne Supremecy Page 20