| ?I?m not sure I can or will answer you, but try me
?The gunshots, the spray paint on the wall?my ?cousin? here says the red paint and the words
were by his instructions??
?They were, mon amiThe loud firing of the guns as well
?Why??
?Everything must be as it is expected to beThe gunshots were an additional element to draw
attention to the event that was to take place
?Why??
Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
132
?A lesson we learned in the R?sistance?not that I was ever a ?Jean Pierre Fontaine,? but I did
my small partIt was called an accentuation, a positive statement making clear that the
underground was responsible for the actionEveryone in the vicinity knew it
?Why here??
?The Jackal?s nurse is deadThere is no one to tell him that his instructions have been carried
out
?French common sense
?Why??
?Carlos will be here by noon tomorrow
?Oh, dear God!?
The telephone rang inside the chanel inspired handbags villaJacques lurched out of his chair only to be blocked
by his sister, who threw her arm in front of his face and then raced through the doors into the living
roomShe picked up the phone
?David??
?It?s Alex,? said the breathless voice on the line?Christ, I?ve had this goddamned thing on
redial for three hours! Are you all right??
?We?re alive but we weren?t supposed to be
?The old men! The old men of Paris! Did Johnny??
?Johnny did, but they?re on our side!?
?Who??
?The old men??
?You?re not making one damn bit of sense!?
?Yes, I am! We?re in control hereWhat about David??
?I don?t know! The telephone lines were cutEverything?s a mess! I?ve got the police heading
out there??
?Screw the police, Alex!? screamed Marie?Get the army, the marines, the lousy CIA! We?re
owed!?
?Jason won?t allow thatI can?t turn on him now
?Well, try this for sizeThe Jackal will be here tomorrow!?
?Oh, Jesus! I have to get see by chloe bag him a jet somewhere
?You have to do something!?
?You don?t understand, MarieThe old Medusa surfaced??
?You tell that husband of mine that Medusa?s history! The Jackal isn?t, and he?s flying in here
tomorrow!?
?David?ll be there, you know thatBecause he?s Jason Bourne now
?Br?er Rabbit, this ain?t thirteen years ago, and you just happen to be thirteen years older
You?re not only gonna be useless, you?re gonna be a positive liability unless you get some rest,
preferably sleepTurn off the lights and grab some sack time in that big fancy couch in the living
roomI?ll man the phones, which ain?t gonna ring ?cause nobody?s callin? at four o?clock in the
morning
Cactus?s voice had faded as Jason wandered into the dark living room, his legs heavy, his lids
falling over his eyes like lead weightsHe dropped to the couch, swinging his legs slowly, with
Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
133
effort, one at fendi clutches a time, up on the cushions; he stared at the ceilingRest is a weapon, battles won and
lost His inner screen went black and sleep came
A screaming, pulsating siren erupted, deafening, incessant, echoing throughout the cavernous
house like a sonic tornadoBourne spastically whipped his body around and sprang off the couch,
at first disoriented, unsure of where he was and for a terrible moment
?Cactus!? he roared, racing out of the ornate living room into the hallway?Cactus!? he shouted
again, hearing his voice lost in the rapid, rhythmic crescendos of the siren-alarm?Where are you??
NothingHe ran to the door of the study, gripping the knobIt was locked! He stepped back and
crashed his shoulder against it, once, twice, a third time with all the speed and strength he could
summonThe door splintered, then gave way and Jason hammered his foot against the central panel
until it collapsed; he went inside and replica tiffany what he found caused the killing machine that was the product
of Medusa and beyond to stare in ice-cold furyCactus was sprawled over the desk, under the light
of the single lamp, in the same chair that had held the murdered general, his blood forming a pool
of red on the blotter?a corpseNo, not a corpse! The right hand moved, Cactus was alive!
Bourne ran to the desk and gently raised the old man?s head, the shrill, deafening, allencompassing
alarm making communication?if communication were possible?impossible
Cactus opened his dark eyes, his trembling right hand moving down the blotter, his forefinger
curved and tapping the top of the desk
?What is it?? yelled JasonThe hand kept moving back toward the edge of the blotter, the
tapping more rapid?Below? Underneath?? With minuscule?nearly imperceptible?motions of his
head, Cactus nodded in the affirmative?Under the desk!? shouted Bourne, beginning gucci bag sale to
understan |
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