'You didn't believe what I told you? That you've got nothing to be afraid of?'
That is not it, sir. I think I must believe you for I saw what you did, and I saw Wu Song's face when you spoke with him. I think it is you I am frightened of, but I also think this may be wrong for you did protect me. It was in Wu Song's eyes. I cannot explain. '
'Don't bother,' said David, reaching into his pocket for money. 'Are you married, Pak-fei? Or have a girlfriend, or a boyfriend? It doesn't matter. '
'Married, sir. I have two grown children who have not-bad jobs. They contribute; my joss is good. '
'Now it'll be better. Go home and pick up your wife – and children, if you like – and drive, Pak-fei. Drive up into the New Territories for many miles. Stop and have a fine meal in Tuen Mun or Yuen Long and then drive some more. Let them enjoy this fine automobile. '
'Sir?
'A xiao xin,' went on Webb, the money in his hand. 'What we call in English a little white lie that doesn't hurt anybody.
You see, I want the mileage on this car to approximate where you've driven me today – and tonight . '
'Where is that?
'You drove Mr Cruett first up to Lo Wu and then across the base of the mountain range to Lok Ma Chau. '
'Those are checkpoints into the People's Republic . '
'Yes, they are,' agreed David, removing two $100 bills, and then a third. 'Do you think you can remember that and make the mileage right?
'Most certainly, sir. '
'And do you think,' added Webb, his finger on a fourth $100 bill, 'that you could say I left the car at Lok Ma Chau and wandered up in the hills for an hour or so.'
'Ten hours, if you like, sir. I need no sleep.'
'One hour is fine. ' David held out the $400 in front of the driver's startled eyes. 'And I'll know if you don't live up to our agreement.'
'You have no concerns, sir!' cried Pak-fei, one hand on the wheel, the other grasping the bills. 'I shall pick up my wife, my children, her parents, and my own as well. This animal I drive is big enough for twelve. I thank you, sir! I thank you!'
'Drop me off around ten streets from Salisbury Road and get out of the area. I don't want this car seen in Kowloon. '
'No, sir, it is not possible. We will be in Lo Wu, in Lok Ma Chau!'
'As far as tomorrow morning goes, say whatever you like. I won't be here, I'm leaving tonight. You won't see me again. '
'Yes, sir. '
'Our contract's concluded, Pak-fei,' said Jason Bourne, his thoughts returning to a strategy that became clearer with each move he made. And each move brought him closer to Marie. All was colder now. There was a certain freedom in being what he was not.
Play the scenario as it was given to you... Be everywhere at once. Make them sweat.
At 5: 02 an obviously disturbed Liang walked rapidly out of the glass doors of the Regent. He looked anxiously around at the arriving and departing guests, then turned to his left and hurried down the pavement towards the ramp leading to the street. David watched him through the spraying fountains on the opposite side of the courtyard. Using the fountains as his cover Webb ran across the busy area, dodging cars and taxis; he reached the ramp and followed Liang down towards Salisbury Road.
He stopped midway to the street and turned, angling his body and his face to the left. The assistant manager had come to an abrupt halt, his body lurching forwards, as an anxious person in a hurry will do when he has suddenly remembered something or changes his mind. It had to be the latter, thought David, as he cautiously shifted his head and saw Liang rushing across the entrance drive towards the crowded pavement of the New World Shopping Centre. Webb knew he would lose him in the crowds if he did not hurry, so he held up both hands, stopping the traffic, and raced diagonally down the ramp as horns bellowed and angry shrieks came from drivers. He reached the pavement, sweating, anxious. He could not see Liang! Where was he? The sea of Oriental faces became a blur, so much the same, yet not the same. Where was he? David rushed ahead, muttering excuses as he collided with bodies and startled faces; he saw him! He was sure it was Liang – but not sure, not really. He had seen a dark-suited figure turn into the entrance of the harbour walkway, a long stretch of concrete above the water where people fished and strolled and performed their tai chi exercises in the early mornings. Yet he had seen only the back of a man; if it was not, Liang would leave the street and lose him completely. Instinct. Not yours but Bourne's – the eyes of Jason Bourne.
Webb broke into a run, heading for the arched entrance of the walkway. The skyline of Hong Kong sparkled in the sunlit distance, the traffic in the harbour bobbing furiously, winding up the day's labours on the water. He slowed down as he passed under the arch; there was no way back to Salisbury Road but through the entrance. The walkway was a dead-end intrusion on the waterfront, and that raised a question, as well as supplying an answer to another. Why had Liang – if it was Liang – boxed himself into a dead end? What drew him to it? A contact, a drop, a relay? Whatever it was, it meant that the Chinese had not considered the possibility that he was being followed; that was the immediate answer David needed. It told him what he had to know. His prey was in panic; the unexpected could only propel him into further panic.
Jason's Bourne's eyes had not lied. It was Liang, but the first question remained unanswered, even compounded by what Webb saw. Of the thousands upon thousands of public telephones in Kowloon – tucked away in crowded arcades and in recessed corners of darkened lobbies – Liang had chosen to use a pay phone on the inner wall of the walkway. It was exposed, in the open, in the centre of a wide thoroughfare that was in itself a dead end. It made no sense; even the rankest amateur had basic protective instincts. When in panic he sought cover.
Liang reached into his pocket for change, and suddenly, as if commanded by an inner voice, David knew that he could not permit that call to be made. When it was made, he had to make it. It was part of his strategy, a part that would bring him closer to Marie! The control had to be in his hands, not others!
He began running, heading straight towards the white plastic shell of the pay phone, wanting to shout but knowing he had to get closer to be heard over the sounds of the windblown waterfront. The assistant manager was dialling; his hand dropped to his side – he had finished. Somewhere a telephone was ringing.
'Liang!' roared Webb . 'Get off that phone! If you want to live, hang up and get out of there!'
The Chinese spun around, his face a rigid mask of terror. ' You!' he shouted hysterically, pressing his body back into the shell of white plastic . 'No... no! Not now! Not here!'
Gunfire suddenly filled the winds off the water, staccato bursts that joined the myriad sounds of the harbour. Pandemonium swept over the walkway as people screamed and shrieked, dropping to the ground or racing in all directions away from the terror of instant death.
10
'Aiya!' roared Liang, diving to the side of the telephone shell as bullets ripped into the wall of the walkway and cracked in the air overhead. Webb lunged towards the Chinese, crawling beside the hotel man, his hunting knife out of its scabbard. 'Do not! What are you doing? Liang screamed as David, lying sideways, gripped him by the front of his shirt and shoved the blade up into the manager's chin, breaking the skin, drawing blood. 'Ahhee!' The hysterical cry was lost in the pandemonium of the walkway.
'Give me the number! Now?
'Don't do this to me! I swear to you I did not know it was a trap!'
'It's not a trap for me, Liang,' said Webb breathlessly, the sweat rolling down his face. 'It's for you!'
'Me? You're mad! Why me?
'Because they know I'm here now, and you've seen me, you've talked to me. You made your phone call and they can't afford you any longer. '
'But why?
'You were given a telephone number. You did your job and they can't allow any traces. '
That explains nothing!'
'Maybe my name will. It's Jason Bourne. '
'Oh, my God... !' w
hispered Liang, his face pale as he stared at David, his eyes opaque glass, his lips parted.
'You're a trace,' said Webb. 'You're dead. '
'No, no!' The Chinese shook his head. 'It can't be! I don't know anyone, only the number! It is a deserted office in the New World Centre, a temporary telephone installed. Please! The number is three-four, four, zero, one! Do not kill me, Mr Bourne! For the love of our Christian God, do not do it!'
'If I thought the trap was for me, there'd be blood all over your throat, not your chin... Three-four, four, zero, one?'
'Yes, exactly!'
The gunfire stopped as suddenly and as startlingly as it had begun.
The New World Centre's right above us, isn't it? One of those windows up there. '
'Exactly!' Liang shuddered, unable to take his eyes off David's face. Then he shut them tight, tears dripping beneath his lids as he shook his head violently. 'I have never seen you! I swear on the cross of holy Jesus!'
'Sometimes I wonder if I'm in Hong Kong or the Vatican. ' Webb raised his head and looked around. All along the walkway terrified people were hesitantly beginning to rise. Mothers clutched children; men held women, and men, women and children got to their knees, then their feet and suddenly formed a mass stampede towards the Salisbury arch. 'You were told to make your call from here, weren't you?" said David rapidly, turning to the frightened hotel man.
'Yes, sir. '
' Why? Did they give you a reason?"
'Yes, sir. '
'For Christ's sake, open your eyes?
'Yes, sir. ' Liang did so, looking away as he spoke. They said they did not trust the guest who asked for Suite Six-nine-zero. He was a man who might force another to convey lies. Therefore they wanted to observe me when I spoke to them... Mr Bourne – no, I did not say that! Mr Cruett – I tried all day to reach you, Mr Cruett! I wanted you to know I was being pressed repeatedly, Mr Cruett. They kept phoning me, wanting to know when I would place my call to them -from here. I kept saying you had not arrived! What else could
I do? By trying to reach you so constantly, you can see I was trying to warn you, sir! It is obvious, is it not?
'What's obvious is that you're a damn fool. '
'I am not equipped for this work. '
'Why did you do it?
'Money, sir! I was with Chiang, with the Kuomintang. I have a wife and five children – two sons and three daughters. I have to get out! They search backgrounds; they give us incontestable labels with no appeals. I am a learned man, sir! Fudan University, second in my class – I owned my own hotel in Shanghai. But all that is meaningless now. When Beijing takes over, I am dead, my family is dead. And now you say I am dead as of this moment. What am I to do?'
'Peking – Beijing – won't touch the colony; they won't change anything,' said David, remembering the words Marie had said to him that terrible evening after McAllister had left their house. 'Unless the crazies take over. '
They are all crazy, sir. Believe nothing else. You don't know them!'
'Maybe not. But I know a few of you. And, frankly, I'd rather not . '
'"Let who is without sin among you cast the first stone, " sir. '
'Stones, but not bags of silver from Chiang's corruption, right?'
'Sir?
'What are your three daughters' names? Quickly?
They are... they are... Wang... Wang Sho-'
'Forget it!' yelled David, glancing down at the Salisbury arch. 'Ni bushi ren! You're not a man, you're a pig! Stay well, Liang-of-the-Kuomintang. Stay well as long as they let you. Frankly, I couldn't care less. '
Webb got to his feet, prepared to throw himself down again at the first irregular flash of light from a window above on his left. The eyes of Jason Bourne were accurate: there was nothing. David joined the stampede at the arch and slithered his way through the crowds to Salisbury Road.
He placed the call from a phone in a congested, noisy arcade off Nathan Road. He put his index finger in his right ear to hear more clearly.
' Wet?' said a male voice.
'It's Bourne, and I'll speak English. Where is my wife?'
'Wade tian ah! It is said you speak our language in numerous dialects. '
'It's been a long time and I want everything clearly understood. I asked you about my wife!'
'Liang gave you this number?'
'He didn't have a choice. '
'He is also dead. '
'I don't care what you do, but if I were you, I'd have second thoughts about killing him. '
'Why? He is lower than a worm. '
'Because you picked a damn fool, worse, an hysterical one. He talked to too many people. A switchboard operator told me he was calling me every few minutes-'
'Calling you?'
'I flew in this morning. Where is my wife-'
'Liang the liar!'
'You didn't expect me to stay in that suite, did you? I had him switch me to another room. We were seen talking together – arguing – with half a dozen clerks watching us. You kill him, there'll be more rumours than any of us want. The police will be looking for a rich American who disappeared. '
'His trousers are soiled,' said the Chinese. 'Perhaps it is enough. '
'It's enough. Now what about my wife}'
'I heard you. I am not privileged with such information. '
'Then put on someone who is. Now!'
'You will meet with others more knowledgeable. '
'When?'
'We will get back to you. What room are you in?
'I'll call you. You've got fifteen minutes. '
'You are giving me orders?'
'I know where you are, which window, which office -you're sloppy with your rifle. You should have corked the
barrel; sunlight reflects off metal, that's basic. In thirty seconds I'll be a hundred feet from your door, but you won't know where I am and you can't leave that phone. '
'I don't believe you!'
Try me. You're not watching me now, I'm watching you. You've got fifteen minutes, and when I call you back I want to talk to my wife. '
'She's not here!'
'If I thought she were you'd be dead, your head knifed from the rest of you and thrown out the window to join the other garbage in the harbour. If you think I'm exaggerating, check around. Ask people who've dealt with me. Ask your taipan, the Yao Ming who doesn't exist . '
'I cannot make your wife appear, Jason Bourne!' shouted the frightened minion.
'Get me a number where I can reach her. Either I hear her voice – talking to me – or there's nothing. Except for your headless corpse and a black bandanna across your bleeding neck. Fifteen minutes?
David hung up the phone and wiped the sweat from his face. He had done it. The mind and the words were Jason Bourne's – he had gone back in only vaguely remembered time and instinctively knew what to do, what to say, what to threaten. There was a lesson somewhere. Appearance far outdistanced reality. Or was there a reality within him crying to come out, wanting control, telling David Webb to trust the man inside him?
He left the oppressively crowded arcade and turned right on the equally congested pavement. The Golden Mile of the Tsim Sha Tsui was preparing for its nightly games, and so would he. He could return to the hotel now; the assistant manager would be miles away, conceivably booking a flight to Taiwan, if there was any truth at all in his hysterical statements. Webb would use the freight elevator to reach his room in case others were awaiting him in the lobby, although he doubted it. The shooting gallery that was a deserted office in the New World Centre was not a command post, and the marksman was not a commander but a relay, now frightened for his life.
With each step David took down Nathan Road, the shorter his breath became, the louder his chest pounded. Twelve minutes from now he would hear Marie's voice. Oh God, he wanted to hear it so! He had to! It was all that would keep him sane, all that mattered.
'Your fifteen minutes are over,' said Webb, sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to control his heartbea
t, wondering if the rapid echo could be heard as he heard it, hoping it caused no tremor in his voice.
'Call five-two, six, five, three. '
'Five?' David recognized the exchange. 'She's over in Hong Kong, not Kowloon.'
'She will be moved immediately. '
'I'll call you back after I've spoken to her. '
'There is no need, Jason Bourne. Knowledgeable men are there and they will speak with you. My business is finished and you have never seen me. '
'I don't have to. A photograph will be taken when you leave that office, but you won't know from where or by whom. You'll probably see a number of people – in the hallway, or in an elevator or the lobby – but you won't know which one has a camera with a lens that looks like a button on his jacket, or an emblem on her purse. Stay well, minion. Think nice thoughts. '
Webb depressed the telephone bar, disconnecting the line; he waited three seconds, released it, heard the dial tone, and touched the buttons. He could hear the ring. Christ, he couldn't stand it!
'Wei?'
'This is Bourne. Put my wife on the line. '
'As you wish. '
'David?'
'Are you all right"!? shouted Webb on the edge of hysteria.
'Yes, just tired, that's all, my darling. Are you all right-'
'Have they hurt you – have they touched you?
'No, David, they've been quite kind, actually. But you know how tired I get sometimes. Remember that week in
Zurich when you wanted to see the Fraumunster and the museums and go out sailing on the Limmat, and I said I just wasn't up to it?
There'd been no week in Zurich. Only the nightmare of a single night when both of them nearly lost their lives. He running the gauntlet of his would-be executioners in the Steppdeckstrasse, she nearly raped, sentenced to death on a deserted riverfront in the Guisan Quai. What was she trying to tell him?
'Yes, I remember. '
'So you mustn't worry about me, darling. Thank God you're here! We'll be together soon, they've promised me that. It'll be like Paris, David. Remember Paris, when I thought I'd lost you? But you came to me and we both knew where to go. That lovely street with the dark green trees and the-'
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