The prisoner shook his head, throated moans accompanying the wild movement.
‘Liar!’ shrieked a voice from the crowd. ‘He was in the Tian
an men this afternoon!’
Again the prisoner shook his head spastically in panic. ‘He spoke against the true China!’ shouted another. ‘I heard him in the Hua gong Park among the young people!’ ‘And in the coffee house on the Xidan bei!’ The prisoner moved convulsively, his wide, stunned eyes fixed in shock on the crowd. Bourne began to understand. The man was hearing lies and-he did not know why, but Jason knew. A Star Chamber inquisition was in session; a troublemaker, or a man with doubts, was being eliminated in the name of a greater crime, in the remote possibility that he might have committed it. The nights of the great blade begin -night after night\ It was a reign of terror inside a small, bloody kingdom within a vast land where centuries of bloodstained warlords had prevailed.
‘He did these things?’ shouted the gaunt-faced orator. ‘He said these things?’
A frenzied chorus of affirmatives filled the glen.
‘In the Tian an men…!’
‘He talked to the Occidental…!’
‘He betrayed us all…!’
‘He caused the trouble at the hated Mao’s tomb…!’
‘He would see us dead, our cause lost…!’
‘He speaks against our leaders and wants them killed…!’
‘To oppose our leaders,’ said the orator, his voice calm but rising, ‘is to vilify them, and, by so doing, to remove the care one must accord the precious gift called life. When these things occur, the gift must be taken away.’
The suspended man writhed more furiously, his cries growing louder and matching the moans of the other prisoners who were forced to kneel in front of the speaker in full view of the imminent execution. Only one kept refusing, continuously trying to rise in disobedience and disrespect, and continuously beaten down by the guard nearest him. It was Philippe d’Anjou. Echo was sending another message to Delta, but Jason Bourne could not understand it.
‘…this diseased, ungrateful hypocrite, this teacher of the young who was welcomed like a brother into our dedicated ranks because we believed the words he spoke – so courageously, we thought – in opposition to our motherland’s tormentors, is no more than a traitor. His words are hollow. He is a sworn companion of the treacherous winds and they would take him to our enemies, the tormentors of Mother China! In his death may he find purification!’ The now shrill-voiced orator pulled the sword out of the ground. He raised it above his head.
And so that his seed may not be spread, recited the scholar David Webb to himself, recalling the words of the ancient incantation and wanting to close his eyes, but unable to, ordeted by his other self not to. We destroy the well from which the seed springs, praying to the spirits to destroy all it has entered here on earth.
The sword arced vertically down, hacking into the groin and genitalia of the screaming, twisting body.
And so that his thoughts may not be spread, diseasing the innocent and the weak, we pray to the spirits to destroy them wherever they may be, as we here destroy the well from which they spring.
The writhing body fell to the ground under a shower of blood from the severed head, which the slender man with the eyes of fire continued to abuse with the blade until there was no remnant of a human face.
The rest of the terrified prisoners filled the glen with wails of horror as they grovelled on the ground, soiling themselves, begging for mercy. Except one. D’Anjou rose to his feet and stared in silence at the messianic man with the sword. The guard approached. Hearing him, the Frenchman turned and spat in his face. The guard, mesmerized, perhaps sickened by what he had seen, backed away. What was Echo doing! What was his message!
Bourne looked back to the executioner, the man with the gaunt face and close-cropped grey hair. He was wiping the long blade of the sword with a white silk scarf as aides removed the body and what was left of the prisoner’s skull. He pointed to a striking, attractive woman who was being dragged by the two guards over to the rope. Her posture was erect, defiant. Delta studied his face. Beneath the maniacal eyes, the man’s thin mouth was stretched into a slit. He was smiling.
He was dead. Some time. Somewhere. Perhaps tonight. A butcher, a bloodstained, blind fanatic who would plunge the Far East into an unthinkable war – China against China, the rest of the world to follow.
Tonight!
27
This woman is a courier, one of those to whom we gave our trust,’ the orator went on, gradually raising his voice like a fundamentalist minister, preaching the gospel of love while his eye is on the work of the devil. The trust was not earned but given in faith, for she is the wife of one of our own, a brave soldier, a first son of an illustrious family of the true China. A man who as I speak now risks his life by infiltrating our enemies in the south. He, too, gave her his trust… and she betrayed that trust, she betrayed that gallant husband, she betrayed us all! She is no more than a whore who sleeps with the enemy! And while her lust is satiated how many secrets has she revealed, how much deeper is her betrayal? Is she the Occidental’s contact here in Beijing? Is she the one who informs on us, who tells our enemies what to look for, what to expect? How else could this terrible day have happened? Our most experienced, dedicated men set a trap for our enemies that would have cut them down, ridding ourselves of Western criminals who see only riches to be won by grovelling in front of China’s tormentors. It is related that she was at the airport this morning. The airport] Where the trap was in progress] Did she give her wanton body to a dedicated man, drugging him, perhaps? Did her lover tell her what to do, what to say to our enemies! What has this harlot done?
The scene was set, thought Bourne. A case so flagrantly leap-frogging over facts and ‘related’ facts that even a court in Moscow would send a puppet prosecutor back to the drawing board. The reign of terror within the warlord tribe continued. Weed out the misfits among the misfits. Find the traitor. Kill anyone who might be he or she.
A subdued but angry chorus of whore!’ and ‘traitor!’ came from the audience as the bound woman struggled with the two guards. The orator held up his hands for silence. It was immediate.
‘Her lover was a despicable journalist for the Xinhua News Agency, that lying, discredited organ of the despicable regime. I say “was”, for since an hour ago the loathsome creature is dead, shot through the head, his throat cut for all to know that he, too, was a traitor! I have spoken myself to this whore’s husband for I accord him honour. He instructed me to do as our ancestral spirits demand. He wants nothing further to do with her-‘
‘Aiyaaa!’ With extraordinary strength and fury, the woman ripped the tightly bound cloth from her mouth. ‘Liar/’ she screamed. ‘Killer of killers! You killed a decent man and I have betrayed no one\ It is / who have been betrayed! I was not at the airport, and you know it! I have never seen this Occidental and you know that, too! I knew nothing of this trap for Western criminals and you can see the truth in my face! How could it
‘By whoring with a dedicated servant of the cause and corrupting him, drugging him! By offering him your breasts and misused tunnel-of-corruption, withholding, withdrawing, until the herbs make him mad!’
‘ You’re mad! You say these things, these lies, because you sent my husband south and came to me for many days, first with promises and then with threats. I was to service you. It was my duty, you said! You lay with me and I learned things-‘
‘Woman, you are contemptible] I came to you pleading with you to keep honour to your husband, with the cause! To abandon your lover and seek forgiveness.’
‘A lie! Men came to you, taipans from the south sent by my husband, men who could not be seen near your high offices. They came secretly to the shops below my flat, the flat of a so called honourable widow – another lie you left for me and my child!’
‘ Whore!’ shrieked the wild-eyed man with the sword.
‘Liar to the depths of the northern lakes!’ shouted the woman in reply. ‘Like you, my husband has many women and cares nothing for me! He beats me and you tell me it is his right, for he is a great son of the true China! I carry messages from one city to another, which if found on me would bring me torture and death, and I receive only scorn, never paid for my rail fares, or the yuan withheld from my place of work, for you tell me it is my duty! How is any girl child to eat? The child your great son of China barely recognizes, for he wanted only sons!’