Above all, there was David, fighting his way out of his personal tunnels, as he called them, trying so hard not to show the pain, so grateful when there was light and memory. God, how he attacked the books, overjoyed when whole stretches of history came back to him, balanced by the anguish of realizing it was only segments of his own life that eluded him. And so often at night she would feel the mattress ripple and know he was getting out of bed to be by himself with his half thoughts and haunting images. She would wait a few minutes, and then go out into the hallway and sit on the steps, listening. And once in a great while it happened: the quiet sobbing of a strong, proud man in agony. She would go to him and he would turn away; the embarrassment and the hurt were too much. She would say, 'You're not fighting this yourself, darling. We're fighting it together. Just as we fought before. ' He would talk then, reluctantly at first, then expanding, the words coming faster and faster until the floodgates burst and he would find things, discover things.
Trees, David! My favourite tree, the maple tree. The maple leaf, David! The consulate, my darling! She had work to do. She reached for the cord and pressed the button for the nurse.
Two minutes later the door opened and a Chinese woman in her mid-forties entered, her nurse's uniform starched and immaculate. 'What can I do for you, my dear?' she said pleasantly, in pleasantly accented English.
'I'm dreadfully tired but I'm having a terrible time getting to sleep. May I have a pill that might help me?'
'I'll check with your doctor; he's still here. I'm sure it will be all right. ' The nurse left and Marie got out of bed. She went to the door, the ill-fitting hospital gown slipping down over her left shoulder, and with the air conditioning, the slit in the back bringing a chill. She opened the door, startling the muscular young guard who sat in a chair on the right.
'Yes, Mrs.... ?' The guard jumped up.
'Shhh!' ordered Marie, her index finger at her lips. 'Come in here! Quickly!'
Bewildered, the young Chinese followed her into the room. She walked rapidly to the bed and climbed on it but did not pull up the covers. She sloped her right shoulder; the gown slipped off, held barely in place by the swell of her breast.
'Come here!' she whispered. 'I don't want anyone to hear me. '
'What is it, lady?' asked the guard, his gaze avoiding Marie's exposed flesh, instead focused on her face and her long auburn hair. He took several steps forward, but still kept his distance. 'The door is closed. No one can hear you. '
'I want you to-' Her whisper fell below an audible level.
'Even I can't hear you, Mrs.. ' The man moved closer.
'You're the nicest of my guards. You've been very kind to me. '
There was no reason to be otherwise, lady. '
'Do you know why I'm being held?
'For your own safety,' the guard lied, his expression noncommittal.
'I see. ' Marie heard the footsteps outside drawing nearer. She shifted her body; the gown travelled down, baring her legs. The door opened and the nurse entered.
'Oh?' The Chinese woman was startled. It was obvious that her eyes appraised a distasteful scene. She looked at the embarrassed guard as Marie covered herself. 'I wondered why you were not outside. '
The lady asked to speak with me,' replied the man, stepping back.
The nurse glanced quickly at Marie. 'Yes?'
'If that's what he says. '
This is foolish,' said the muscular guard, going to the door and opening it. The lady's not well,' he added. 'Her mind strays. She says foolish thing's. ' He went out the door and closed it firmly behind him.
Again the nurse looked at Marie, her eyes now questioning. 'Do you feel all right? she asked.
'My mind does not stray, and I'm not the one who says foolish things. But I do as I'm told. ' Marie paused, then continued. 'When that giant of a major leaves the hospital, please come and see me. I have something to tell you. '
'I'm sorry, I cannot do that. You must rest. Here, I have a sedative for you. I see you have water. '
'You're a woman,' said Marie, staring hard at the nurse.
'Yes,' agreed the Oriental flatly. She placed a tiny paper cup with a pill in it on Marie's bedside table and returned to the door. She took a last, questioning look at her patient and left.
Marie got off the bed and walked silently to the door. She put her ear to the metal panel; outside in the corridor she heard the muffled sounds of a rapid exchange, obviously in Chinese. Whatever was said and however the brief, excited conversation was resolved, she had planted the seed. Work on the visual, Jason Bourne had emphasized and re-emphasized during the hell they had gone through in Europe. It's more effective than anything else. People will draw the conclusions you want on the basis of what they see far more than from the most convincing lies you can tell them.
She went to the clothes closet and opened it. They had left the few things they had bought for her in Hong Kong at the apartment but the slacks, blouse and shoes she had worn the day they brought her to the hospital were hanging up; it had not occurred to anyone to remove them. Why should they have? They could see for themselves that she was a very sick woman. The trembling and spasms had convinced them; they saw it all. Jason Bourne would understand. She glanced at the small white telephone on the bedside table. It was a flat, self-contained unit, the panel of touch buttons built into the instrument. She wondered, although there was no one she could think of calling. She went to the table and picked it up. It was dead, as she expected it would be. There was the signal for the nurse; it was all she needed and all she was permitted.
She walked to the window and raised the white shade, only to greet the night. The dazzling, coloured lights of Hong Kong lit up the sky, and she was closer to the sky than to the ground. As David would say – or rather, Jason: So be it. The door. The corridor.
So be it.
She crossed to the washbasin. The hospital-supplied toothbrush and toothpaste were still encased in plastic; the soap was also virginal, wrapped in the manufacturer's jacket, the words guaranteeing purity beyond the breath of angels.
Next there was the bathroom; nothing much different except a dispenser of sanitary napkins and a small sign in four languages explaining what not to do with them. She walked back into the room. What was she looking for? Whatever it was she had not found it.
Study everything. You'll find something you can use. Jason's words, not David's. Then she saw it.
On certain hospital beds – and this was one of them – there is a handle beneath the baseboard that when turned one way or the other raises or lowers the bed. This handle can be removed – and often is – when a patient is being fed intravenously, or if a physician wants him to remain in a given position, for example, in traction. A nurse can unlock and remove this handle by pressing in, turning to the left, and yanking it out as the cog-lock is released. This is frequently done during visiting hours, when visitors might succumb to a patient's wishes to change position against the doctor's wishes. Marie knew this bed and she knew this handle. When
David was recovering from the wounds he received at Treadstone 71, he was kept alive by intravenous feedings; she had watched the nurses. Her soon-to-be husband's pain was more than she could bear, and the nurses were obviously aware that in her desire to make things easier for him, she might disrupt the medical treatment. She knew how to remove the handle, and once removed, it was nothing less than a wieldy angle iron.
She removed it and climbed back into the bed, the handle beneath the covers. She waited, thinking how different her two men were – in one man. Her lover, Jason, could be so cold and patient, waiting for the moment to spring, to shock, to rely for survival upon violence. And her husband, David, so giving, so willing to listen – the scholar – avoiding violence at all costs because he had been there and he hated the pain and the anxiety – above all, the necessity to eliminate feelings to become a mere animal. And now he was called upon to be the man he detested. David, my David! Hold on to your sanity I I love you
so.
Noises in the corridor. Marie looked at the clock on the bedside table. Sixteen minutes had passed. She placed both her hands above the covers as the nurse entered, lowering her eyelids as though she were drowsy.
'All right, my dear,' said the woman, taking several steps from the door. 'You have touched me, I will not deny that. But I have my orders – very specific instructions about you. The major and your doctor have left. Now, what is it you wanted to tell me?'
'Not... now,' whispered Marie, her head sinking into her chin, her face more asleep than awake. 'I'm so tired. I took... the pill. '
'Is it the guard outside?"
'He's sick... He never touches me – I don't care. He gets me things... I'm so tired. '
'What do you mean, "sick'?'
'He... likes to look at women... He doesn't... bother me when I'm... asleep. ' Marie's eyes closed, the lids full.
'Zang? said the nurse under her breath. 'Dirty, dirty!' She
spun on her heels, walked out the door, closed it, and addressed the guard. The woman is asleep! Do you understand me!'
That is most heavenly fortunate. '
'She says you never touch her!'
'I never even thought about it . '
'Don't think about it now!'
'I do not need lectures from you, hag nurse. I have a job to do. '
'See that you do it! I will speak to Major Lin in the morning!' The woman glared at the man and walked down the corridor, her pace and her posture aggressive.
'You!' The harsh whisper came from Marie's door which was slightly ajar. She opened it an inch farther and spoke. That nurse! Who is she?'
'I thought you were asleep, Mrs.,' said the bewildered guard.
'She told me she was going to tell you that . '
'What?'
'She's coming back for me! She says there are connecting doors to the other rooms. Who is she?'
'She what?
'Don't talk! Don't look at me! She'll see you!'
'She went down the hallway to the right . '
'You never can tell. Better a devil you know than one you don't! You know what I mean?'
'I do not know what anybody means!' pleaded the guard, talking softly, emphatically, to the opposite wall. 'I do not know what she means and I do not know what you mean, lady!'
'Come inside. Quickly! I think she's a communist! From Peking!'
'Beijing?'
'I won't go with her!' Marie pulled back the door, then spun behind it.
The guard rushed in as the door slammed shut. The room was dark; only the light in the bathroom was on, its glow diminished by the bathroom door, which was nearly closed. The man could be seen, but he could not see. 'Where are you,
Mrs.? Be calm. She will not take you anywhere–'
The guard was not capable of saying anything further. Marie had crashed the iron handle across the base of his skull with the strength of an Ontario ranch girl quite used to the bullwhip in a cattle drive. The guard collapsed; she knelt down and worked quickly.
The Chinese was muscular but not large, not tall. Marie was not large, but she was tall for a woman. With a hitch here, and a tuck there, the guard's clothes and shoes fitted reasonably well for a fast exit, but her hair was the problem. She looked around the room. Study everything. You'll find something you can use. She found it. Hanging from a chrome bar on the bedside table was a hand towel. She pulled it off, piled her hair on top of her head and wrapped the towel around it, tucking the cloth within itself. It undoubtedly looked foolish and could hardly bear close scrutiny, but it was a turban of sorts.
Stripped to his underpants and socks, the guard moaned and began to raise himself, then collapsed back into unconsciousness. Marie ran to the closet, grabbed her own clothes and went to the door, opening it cautiously no more than an inch. Two nurses – one Oriental, the other European – were talking quietly in the hallway. The Chinese was not the woman who had returned to hear her complaint about the guard. Another nurse appeared, nodded to the two, and went directly to a door across the hall. It was a linen supply closet. A telephone rang at the floor desk fifty feet down the hallway; before the circular desk was a bisecting corridor. An Exit sign hung from the ceiling, the arrow pointing to the right. The two conversing nurses turned and started towards the desk; the third left the linen closet carrying a handful of sheets. The cleanest escape is one done in stages, using whatever confusion there is.
Marie slipped out of the room and ran across the hall to the linen closet. She went inside and closed the door. Suddenly, a woman's roar of protest filled the hallway, petrifying her. She could hear heavy racing footsteps, coming closer; then more footsteps.
The guard!' yelled the Chinese nurse in English. 'Where is that dirty guard?'
Marie opened the closet door less than an inch. Three
excited nurses were in front of her hospital room; they burst inside.
'You! You took off your clothes! Zang sile dirty man! Look in the bathroom!'
'You!' yelled the guard unsteadily. 'You let her getaway! I will hold you for my superiors. '
'Let me go, filthy man! You lie!'
'You are a Communist! From Beijing?
Marie slipped out of the linen closet, a stack of towels over her shoulder, and ran to the bisecting corridor and the Exit sign.
'Call Major Lin! I've caught a Communist infiltrator?
'Call the police! He is a pervert!'
Out on the hospital grounds, Marie ran into the parking lot, into the darkest area, and sat breathless in the shadows between two cars. She had to think; she had to appraise the situation. She could not make any mistakes. She dropped the towels and her clothes and began going through the guard's pockets, looking for a wallet or a billfold. She found it, opened it, and counted the money in the dim light. There was slightly more than $600 Hong Kong, which was slightly less than $100 American. It was barely enough for a hotel room; then she saw a credit card issued by a Kowloon bank. Don't leave home without it. If she had to, she would present the card – if she had to, and if she could find a hotel room. She removed the money and the plastic card, put the wallet back into the pocket, and began the awkward process of changing clothes while studying the streets beyond the hospital grounds. To her relief they were crowded, and those crowds were her immediate security.
A car suddenly raced into the parking lot, its tyres screeching as it careened in front of the Emergency door. Marie rose and looked through the automobile windows. The heavy-set Chinese major and the cold, precise doctor leaped out of the car and raced towards the entrance. As they disappeared through the doors, Marie ran out of the parking lot and into the street.
She walked for hours, stopping to gorge herself at a fast food restaurant until she could not stand the sight of another hamburger. She went to the ladies' room and looked at herself in the mirror. She had lost weight and there were dark circles under her eyes, yet withal, she was herself. But the damned hair! They would be scouring Hong Kong for her, and the first items of any description would be her height and her hair. She could do little about the former, but she could drastically modify the latter. She stopped at a pharmacy and bought bobby pins and several clasps. Then remembering what Jason had asked her' to do in Paris when her photograph appeared in the newspapers, she pulled her hair back, securing it into a bun, and pinned both sides close to her head. The result was a much harsher face, heightened by the loss of weight and no makeup. It was the effect Jason – David – had wanted in Paris... No, she reflected, it was not David in Paris. It was Jason Bourne. And it was night, as it had been in Paris.
'Why you do that, miss?' asked a clerk standing near the mirror at the cosmetics counter. 'You have such pretty hair, very beautiful. '
'Oh? I'm tired of brushing it, that's all. '
Marie left the pharmacy, bought flat sandals from a vendor on the street, and an imitation Gucci bag from another – the G's were upside down. She had $45 American left and no idea where she would spend the night. It
was both too late and too soon to go to the consulate. A Canadian arriving after midnight asking for a roster of personnel would send out alarms; also she had not had time to figure out how to make the request. Where could she got She needed sleep. Don't make your moves when you're tired or exhausted. The margin for error is too great. Rest is a weapon. Don't forget it.
She passed an arcade that was closing up. A young American couple in blue jeans were bargaining with the owner of a T-shirt stand.
'Hey, come on, man,' said the youthful male. 'You want to make just one more sale tonight, don't you? I mean, so you cut your profit a bit, but it's still a few dineros in your pocket, right?
'No dineros,' cried the merchant, smiling. 'Only dollars, and you offer too few! I have children. You take the precious food from their mouths!'
'He probably owns a restaurant,' said the girl.
'You want restaurant? Authentic-real Chinese food?"
'Jesus, you're right, Lacy!'
'My third cousin on my father's side has an exquisite stand two streets from here. Very near, very cheap, very good.'
'Forget it,' said the boy. 'Four bucks, US, for the six T's. Take it or leave it . '
'I take. Only because you are too strong for me. ' The merchant grabbed the proffered bills and shoved the T-shirts into a paper bag.
'You're a wonder, Buzz. ' The girl kissed him on the cheek and laughed. 'He's still working on a four hundred per cent markup. '
That's the trouble with you business majors! You don't consider the aesthetics. The smell of the hunt, the pleasure of the verbal conflict!'
'If we ever get married, I'll be supporting you for the rest of my miserable life, you great negotiator. '
Opportunities will present themselves. Recognize them, act on them. Marie approached the two students.
'Excuse me,' she said, speaking primarily to the girl. 'I overheard you talking-'
The Bourne Supremacy jb-2 Page 20