He opened the heavy door, briefly wondering why every gymnasium entrance was designed with the weight of a portcullis. He went inside and walked across the stone floor through an archway and down a white-walled corridor until he reached the door of the faculty locker room. He was thankful that the room was empty; he was in no frame of mind to respond to small talk, and if required to do so, he would undoubtedly appear sullen, if not strange. He could also do without the stares he would probably provoke. He was too close to the edge; 'he had to pull back gradually, slowly, first within himself, then with Marie. Christ, when would it all stop"! How much could he ask of her? But then he never had to ask – she gave without being asked.
Webb reached the row of lockers. His own was towards the end. He was walking between the long wooden bench and the connecting metal cabinets when his eyes were suddenly riveted on an object up ahead. He rushed forward; a folded note had been taped to his locker. He ripped it off and opened it: Your wife phoned. She wants you to call her as soon as you can. Says it's urgent. Ralph.
The gym custodian might have had the brains to go outside and shout to him! thought David angrily as he spun the combination and opened the locker. After rummaging through his limp trousers for change, he ran to a pay telephone on the wall, inserted a coin, disturbed that his hand trembled. Then he knew why. Marie never used the word 'urgent'. She avoided such words.
'Hello?'
'What is it?
'I thought you might be there,' said his wife. 'Mo's panacea, the one he guarantees will cure you if it doesn't give you cardiac arrest . '
'What is it?
'David, come home. There's someone here you must see. Quickly, darling. '
Undersecretary of State Edward McAllister kept his own introduction to a minimum, but by including certain facts let Webb know he was not from the lower ranks of the Department. On the other hand, he did not embellish his importance; he was the secure bureaucrat, confident that whatever expertise he possessed could weather changes in administrations.
'If you'd like, Mr. Webb, our business can wait until you get into something more comfortable. '
David was still in his sweat-stained shorts and T-shirt, having grabbed his clothes from the locker and raced to his car from the gym. 'I don't think so,' he said. 'I don't think your business can wait – not where you come from, Mr. McAllister. '
'Sit down, David. ' Marie St Jacques Webb walked into the living room, two towels in her hands. 'You, too, Mr. McAllister. ' She handed Webb a towel as both men sat down facing each other in front of an unlit fireplace, then moved behind her husband and began blotting his neck and shoulders with the second towel, the light of a table lamp heightening the reddish tint of her auburn hair, her lovely features in shadows, her eyes on the man from the State Department . 'Please, go ahead,' she continued. 'As we've agreed, I'm cleared by the Government for anything you might say. '
'Was there a question? asked David, glancing up at her and then at the visitor, making no attempt to disguise his hostility.
'None whatsoever,' replied McAllister, smiling wanly yet sincerely. 'No one who's read of your wife's contribution would dare exclude her. Where others failed she succeeded. '
'That says it,' agreed Webb . 'Without saying anything, of course. '
'Hey, come on, David, loosen up. '
'Sorry. She's right. ' Webb tried to smile; the attempt was not successful. 'I'm prejudging and I shouldn't do that, should I?'
'I'd say you have every right to,' said the undersecretary. 'I know I would, if I were you. In spite of the fact that our backgrounds are very much alike – I was posted in the Far East for a number of years – no one would have considered me for the assignment you undertook. What you went through is light years beyond me. '
'Beyond me, too. Obviously. '
'Not from where I stand. The failure wasn't yours, God knows. '
'Now you're being kind. No offence, but too much kindness – from where you stand – makes me nervous. '
Then let's get to the business at hand, all right?
'Please. '
'And I hope you haven't prejudged me too harshly. I'm not your enemy, Mr. Webb. I want to be your friend. I can press buttons that can help you, protect you. '
'From what?
'From something nobody ever expected. '
'Let's hear it.'
'As of thirty minutes from now your security will be doubled,' said McAllister, his eyes locked with David's. 'That's my decision, and I'll quadruple it if I think it's necessary. Every arrival on this campus will be scrutinized, the grounds checked hourly. The rotating guards will no longer be part of the scenery, keeping you merely in sight, but in effect will be very much in sight themselves. Very obvious, and I hope threatening.'
'Jesus!' Webb sprang forward in the chair. 'It's Carlos?
'We don't think so,' said the man from State, shaking his head. 'We can't rule Carlos out, but it's too remote, too unlikely. '
'Oh?' David nodded. 'It must be. If it was the Jackal, your men would be all over the place and out of sight. You'd let him come after me and take him, and if I'm killed the cost is acceptable.'
'Not to me. You don't have to believe that, but I mean it.'
Thank you, but then what are we talking about?5
'Your file was broken – that is, the Treadstone file was invaded. '
'Invaded? Unauthorized disclosure?'
'Not at first. There was authorization, all right, because there was a crisis – and in a sense we had no choice. Then everything went off the wire and now we're concerned. For you. '
'Back up, please. Who got the file?'
'A man on the inside, high inside. His credentials were the best, no one could question them. '
'Who was he?'
'A British MI6 operating out of Hong Kong, a man the CIA has relied on for years. He flew into Washington and went directly to his primary liaison at the Agency, asking to be given everything there was on Jason Bourne. He claimed there was a crisis in the territory that was a direct result of the Treadstone project. He also made it clear that if sensitive information was to be exchanged between British and American intelligence – continue to be exchanged – he thought it best that his request be granted forthwith. '
'He had to give a damn good reason. '
'He did. ' McAllister paused nervously, blinking his eyes and rubbing his forehead with extended fingers.
'Well?
'Jason Bourne is back,' said McAllister quietly. 'He's killed again. In Kowloon.'
Marie gasped; she clutched her husband's right shoulder, her large brown eyes angry, frightened. She stared in silence at the man from State. Webb did not move. Instead he studied McAllister, as a man might watch a cobra.
'What the hell are you talking about? he whispered, then raised his voice. 'Jason Bourne – that Jason Bourne – doesn't exist anymore. He never did!'
'You know that and we know that, but in Asia his legend is very much alive. You created it, Mr. Webb – brilliantly, in my judgement . '
'I'm not interested in your judgement, Mr. McAllister,' said David, removing his wife's hand and getting out of the chair. 'What's this MI6 agent working on? How old is he? What's his stability factor, his record? You must have run an up-to-date trace on him. '
'Of course we did and there was nothing irregular. London confirmed his outstanding service record, his current status, as well as the information he brought us. As chief of post for MI6, he was called in by the Kowloon-Hong Kong police because of the potentially explosive nature of events. The Foreign Office itself stood behind him. '
'Wrong!' shouted Webb, shaking his head, then lowered his voice. 'He was turned, Mr. McAllister! Someone offered him a small fortune to get that file. He used the only lie that would work and all of you swallowed it!'
'I'm afraid it's not a lie – not as he knew it. He believed the evidence, and London believes it. A Jason Bourne is back in Asia . '
'And what if I told you it wouldn't be t
he first time central control was fed a lie so an overworked, over risked, underpaid man can turn! All the years, all the dangers, and nothing to show for it. He decides on one opportunity that gives him an annuity for life. In this case that file!'
'If that is the case, it won't do him much good. He's dead. '
'He's what... ?
'He was shot to death two nights ago in Kowloon, in his office, an hour after he'd flown into Hong Kong. '
'Goddamn it, it doesn't happen!' cried David, bewildered. 'A man who turns backs himself up. He builds a case against his benefactor before the act, letting him know it'll get to the right people if anything ugly happens. It's his insurance, his only insurance. '
'He was clean,' insisted the, State Department man.
'Or stupid,' rejoined Webb.
'No one thinks that . '
'What do they think?
'That he was pursuing an extraordinary development, one that could erupt into widespread violence throughout the underworlds of Hong Kong and Macao. Organized crime becomes suddenly very disorganized, not unlike the tong wars of the twenties and thirties. The killings pile up. Rival gangs instigate riots; waterfronts become battlegrounds; warehouses, even cargo ships are blown up for revenge, or to wipe out competitors. Sometimes all it takes is several powerful warring factions – and a Jason Bourne in the background. '
'But since there is no Jason Bourne, it's police work! Not MI6 . '
'Mr. McAllister just said the man was called in by the Hong Kong police,' broke in Marie looking hard at the undersecretary of state. 'MI6 obviously agreed with the decision. Why was that?
'It's the wrong ballpark!' David was adamant, his breath short.
'Jason Bourne wasn't the creation of the police authorities,' said Marie, going to her husband's side. 'He was created by US Intelligence by way of the State Department. But I suspect MI6 inserted itself for a far more pressing reason than to find a killer posing as Jason Bourne. Am I right, Mr. McAllister?
'You're right, Mrs.. Webb. Far more. In our discussions these last two days, several members of our section thought you'd understand more clearly than we did. Let's call it an economic problem that could lead to serious political turmoil, not only in Hong Kong but throughout the world. You were a highly regarded economist for the Canadian Government. You advised Canadian ambassadors and delegations all over the world. '
'Would you both mind explaining to the man who balances the chequebook around here?
'These aren't the times to permit disruptions in Hong Kong's marketplace, Mr. Webb, even – perhaps especially its illegal marketplace. Disruptions accompanied by violence give the impression of government instability, if not far deeper instability. This isn't the time to give the expansionists in Red China any more ammunition than they have already.'
'Come again, please?"
'The treaty of 1997,' answered Marie quietly. 'The lease runs out in barely a decade, which is why the new accords were negotiated with Peking. Still, everybody's nervous, everything's shaky and no one had better rock the boat. Calm stability is the name of the game. '
David looked at her, then back at McAllister. He nodded his head. 'I see. I've read the papers and the magazines... but it's just not a subject that I know a hell of a lot about . '
'My husband's interests lie elsewhere,' explained Marie to McAllister. 'In the study of people, their civilizations. '
'All right,' Webb agreed. 'So?'
' Mine are with money and the constant exchange of money – the expansion of it, the markets and their fluctuations – the stability, or lack of it. And if Hong Kong is nothing else, it's money. That's more or less its only commodity; it has little other reason for being. Its industries would die without it; without priming, the pump runs dry. '
'And if you take away the stability you have chaos,' added McAllister. 'It's the excuse for the old warlords in China. The People's Republic marches in to contain the chaos, suppress the agitators, and suddenly there's nothing left but an awkward giant fumbling with the entire colony as well as the New Territories. The cooler heads in Beijing are ignored in favour of more aggressive elements who want to save face through military control. Banks collapse, Far East trade is stymied. Chaos. '
'The PRC would do that?'
'Hong Kong, Kowloon, Macao and all the territories are part of their so-called "great nation under heaven", even the China Accords make that clear. It's one entity, and the Oriental won't tolerate a disobedient child, you know that . '
'Are you telling me that one man pretending to be Jason Bourne can do this – can bring about this kind of crisis? I don't believe you!'
'It's an extreme scenario, but yes, it could happen. You see, the myth rides with him, that's the hypnotic factor. Multiple killings are ascribed to him, if Only to distance the real killers from the scenes – conspirators from the politically fanatic right and left using Bourne's lethal image as their own. When you think about it, it's precisely the way the myth itself was created. Whenever anyone of importance anywhere in the South China area was assassinated, you, as Jason Bourne, made sure the kill was credited to you. At the end of two years you were notorious, yet in fact you killed only one man, a drunken informer in Macao who tried to garrotte you. '
'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.
The Bourne Supremacy jb-2 Page 5