The Bourne Supremacy by Robert Ludlum

‘Who? asked David.

‘Me,’ replied McAllister, his eyes locked with Webb’s.

‘Which means me,’ said David. ‘I’m that man, that obsessed man.’

‘Your name would not be used,’ continued the undersecretary, calmly, coldly. ‘We could invent an American expatriate who several years ago was hunted by the authorities throughout the Far East for crimes ranging from multiple murders to running narcotics. We’ll say I cooperated with the police in Hong Kong, Macao, Singapore, Japan, Malaysia, Sumatra and the Philippines. Through my efforts his operations were effectively shut down and he lost millions. He learns I’ve returned and am posted here on Victoria Peak. He conies after me, the man who ruined him.’ McAllister paused, turning to David. ‘Since I spent a number of years here in Hong Kong, I can’t imagine that Peking overlooked me. I’m sure there’s an extensive dossier on an analyst who made a number of enemies during his tour of duty here. I did make enemies, Mr Webb. It was my job. We were trying to increase our influence in this part of the world and wherever Americans were involved in criminal activities, I did my level best to help the authorities apprehend them or, at the least, force them out of Asia. It was the best way to show our good intentions, going after our own. It was also the reason State recalled me to Washington. And by using my name we lend a certain authenticity for Sheng Chou Yang. You see, we knew each other. He’ll speculate on a dozen possibilities; I hope the right one, but none remotely connected to a British commando.’

The right speculation,’ interrupted Conklin, quietly, ‘being the fact that no one over here has heard from the first Jason Bourne in a couple of years.’

‘Exactly.’

‘So I’m the corpse that’s in custody,’ said Webb, ‘beyond scrutiny.’

‘You could be, yes,’ said McAllister. ‘You see, we don’t know what Sheng knows, how deep his penetration went. The only thing we want to establish is that the dead man is not his assassin.’

‘Leaving the way open for another impostor to go back up and draw Sheng out for the kill,’ added Conklin respectfully. ‘You’re something, Mr Analyst. A son of a bitch, but something.’

‘You’d be exposing yourself, Edward,’ said Havilland, his gaze levelled at the undersecretary. ‘I never asked that of you. You do have enemies.’

‘I want to do it this way, Mr Ambassador. You employ me to render the best judgements that I can, and in my judgement this is the most productive course. There’s got to be a convincing smokescreen. My name can provide it – for Sheng. The rest can be couched in ambiguous language, language that everyone we want to reach will understand.’

‘So be it,’ said Webb, suddenly closing his eyes, hearing the words Jason Bourne had spoken so often.

‘David-‘ Marie touched his face.

‘Sorry.’ Webb fingered the file folder in front of him, then opened it. On the first page was a photograph with a name printed underneath. It was identified as the face of Sheng Chou Yang, but it was far more than that. It was the face. It was the face of the butcher] The madman who hacked women and men to death with his jewelled ceremonial sword, who forced brothers to fight with razor sharp knives until one killed the other, who took a brave, tortured Echo’s life with a slash to the head. Bourne stopped breathing, enraged by the unimaginable cruelty, as bloody images overcame him. As he stared at the photograph, the sight of Echo, throwing his life away to save Delta, brought him back to that clearing in the forest. Delta knew that it was Echo’s death that had made the assassin’s capture possible. Echo had died defiantly, accepting his unbearably painful execution so that a fellow Medusan could make good not only his escape, but with a final gesture telling him that the madman with the sword must be killed!

“This? whispered Jason Bourne, ‘is the son of your unknown taipan?

‘Yes,’ said Havilland.

‘Your revered philosopher-prince? The Chinese saint no one can expose?”

‘Again, yes.’ (

‘You were wrong! He showed himself! Christ did he show himself!’

Stunned, the ambassador shot forward. ‘You’re certain?’

There’s no way I couldn’t be certain.’

The circumstances must have been extraordinary,’ said the astonished McAllister. ‘And it certainly confirms that the impostor never would have got out of there alive. Still, the circumstances must have been earth-shaking for him!’

‘Considering the fact that no one outside China ever learned about them, they were. Mao’s tomb became a shooting gallery. It was part of the trap and they lost. Echo lost.’

‘Who?’ asked Marie, still gripping his hand.

‘A friend.’

‘Mao’s tomb?’ repeated Havilland. ‘Extraordinary!’

‘Not at all,’ said Bourne. ‘How bright. The last place in China a target would expect an attack. He goes in thinking he’s the pursuer following his quarry, expecting to pick him up outside, on the other side. The lights are dim, his guard down. And all the while he’s the quarry, hunted, isolated, set up for the kill. Very bright.’

‘Very dangerous for the hunters,’ said the ambassador. ‘For Sheng’s people. One mis-step and they could have been taken. Insanity’!’

‘No mis-steps were possible. They would have killed their own if I hadn’t killed them. I understand that now. When everything went off the wire, they simply disappeared. With Echo.’

‘Back to Sheng, please, Mr Webb.’ Havilland was himself obsessed, his eyes pleading. Tell us what you saw, what you know.’

‘He’s a monster,’ said Jason quietly, his eyes glazed, staring at the photograph. ‘He comes from hell, a Savonarola who tortures and kills – men, women, kids – with a smile on his face. He gives sermons like a prophet talking to children, but underneath he’s a maniac who rules his gang of misfits by sheer terror. Those shock troops you mentioned aren’t troops, they’re goons, sadistic thugs who’ve learned their craft from a master. He’s Auschwitz, Dachau and Bergen Belsen all rolled into one. God help us all if he runs anything over here.’ ‘He can, Mr Webb,’ said Havilland quietly, his terrified gaze fixed on Jason Bourne. ‘He will. You’ve just described a Sheng Chou Yang the world has never seen, and at this moment he is the most powerful man in China. As Adolf Hitler marched victoriously into the Reichstag, so Sheng will march into the Central Committee, making it his puppet. What you’ve told us is far more catastrophic than anything we’ve conceived of – China against China… Armageddon to follow. Oh, my God!

‘He’s a brute animal,’ whispered Jason, hoarsely. ‘He has to kill like a predator, but his only hunger is killing – not for food but for the kill.’

‘You’re talking in generalities.’ McAllister’s interruption was cold but intense. ‘We have to know more – I have to know more!’

‘He called a conference.’ Bourne spoke dreamily, his head swaying, his eyes again riveted on the photograph. ‘It was the start of – the nights of the great blade, he said. There was a traitor, he said. The conference was something only a madman could create, torches everywhere, held in the countryside, an hour out of Peking, in a bird sanctuary – can you believe it? A bird sanctuary – and he really did what I say he did. He killed a man suspended by ropes, hacking his sword into the screaming body. Then a woman who tried to argue her innocence, cutting her head off- her head! In front of everyone! And then two brothers-‘

‘A traitor! whispered McAllister, ever the analyst. ‘Did he find one? Did anyone confess? Is there any kind of counter insurgency?’

‘Stop it!’ cried Marie.

Wo, Mrs Webb! He’s going back. He’s reliving it. Look at him. Can’t you see? He’s there.’

‘I’m afraid our irritating colleague is right, Marie,’ said Panov softly, watching Webb. ‘He’s in and out, trying to find his own reality. It’s okay. Let him ride it. It could save us all a lot of time.’

‘Bullshit!’

‘For ever accurate, my dear, and for ever debatable. Shut up.

‘… There was no traitor, no one who spoke, only the woman with doubts. He killed her and there was silence, an awful silence. He was warning everyone, telling everyone that they were everywhere and at the same time they were invisible. In the ministries, in the Security Police, everywhere … And then he killed Echo, but Echo knew he had to die. He wanted to die quickly because he couldn’t live much longer anyway. After they tortured him he was in awful shape. Still, if he could give me time-‘

‘Who is Echo, David? asked Morris Panov. Tell us, please.’

‘Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo … Foxtrot-‘

‘Medusa,’ said the psychiatrist. ‘It’s Medusa, isn’t it? Echo was in Medusa.’

‘He was in Paris. The Louvre. He tried to save my life but I saved his. That was okay, it was right. He saved mine before, years ago. “Rest is a weapon”, he said. He put the others around me and made me sleep. And then we got out of the jungle.’