‘Just like that?
‘You’ll have help. Several names and descriptions, men I am convinced are involved with this new killer who uses an old name. ‘
‘Over in Macao?
‘Never! It must not be Macao! There’s to be no mention, no reference whatsoever to the incident at the Lisboa Hotel. It is closed, finished; you know nothing about it. In no way can my person be associated with what you are doing. You have nothing to do with me! If you surface, you are hunting a man who has assumed your mantle. You are protecting yourself, defending yourself. A perfectly natural thing to do under the circumstances. ‘
‘I thought you wanted proof-‘
‘It will come when you bring me the impostor? shouted the taipan.
‘If not Macao, where then?
‘Here in Kowloon. In the Tsim Sha Tsui. Five men were slain in the back room of a cabaret, among them a banker -like myself, a taipan,. my associate from time to time and no less influential – as well as three others whose identities were concealed; apparently it was a government decision. I’ve never found out who they were. ‘
‘But you know who the fifth man was,’ said Bourne.
‘He worked for me. He took my place at that meeting. Had I been there myself, your namesake would have killed me. This is where you will start, here in Kowloon, in the Tsim Sha Tsui. I will give you the names of the two known dead and the identities of many men who were the enemies of both, now my enemies. Move quickly. Find the man who kills in your name and bring him to me. And a last warning, Mr Bourne. Should you try to find out who I am the order will be swift, the execution swifter. Your wife will die. ‘
‘Then so will you. Give me the names. ‘
‘They’re on this paper,’ said the man who used the name’ Yao Ming, reaching into the pocket of his white silk vest. ‘They were typed by a public stenographer at The Mandarin. There would be no point in trying to trace a specific typewriter. ‘
‘A waste of time,’ said Bourne, taking the sheet of paper. There must be twenty million typewriters in Hong Kong. ‘
‘But not so many taipans of my size and girth, eh?
That I’ll remember. ‘
‘I’m sure you will. ‘
‘How do I reach you?’
‘You don’t. Ever. This meeting never took place. ‘
Then why did it? Why did everything that’s happened take place? Say I manage to find and take this cretin who calls himself Bourne – and it’s a damn big if – what do I do with him? Leave him on the steps outside here in the Walled City?’
‘It could be a splendid idea. Drugged, no one would pay the slightest attention beyond rifling his pockets. ‘
‘I’d pay a lot of attention. A prize for a prize, taipan. I want an ironclad guarantee. I want my wife back. ‘
‘What would you consider such a guarantee?’
‘First her voice on the phone convincing me she’s unharmed, and then I want to see her – say, walking up and down a street under her own power with no one near her. ‘
‘Jason Bourne speaks?
‘He speaks. ‘
‘Very well. We’ve developed a high technology industry here in Hong Kong, ask anyone in the electronics business in
your country. On the bottom of that page is a telephone number. When and if – and only when and if – the impostor is in your hands call that number and repeat the words “snake lady” several times-‘
‘Medusa] whispered Jason, interrupting. ‘Airborne. ‘
The taipan arched his brows, his expression noncommittal. ‘Naturally, I was referring to the woman in the bazaar. ‘
‘Like hell you were. Go on. ‘
‘As I say, repeat the words several times until you hear clicks-‘
‘Triggering another number, or numbers,’ broke in Bourne again.
‘Something to do with the sounds of the phrase, I believe,’ agreed the taipan. ‘The sibilant s, followed by a flat vowel and hard consonants. Ingenious, wouldn’t you say?’
‘It’s called aurally receptive programming, instruments activated by a voice print. ‘
‘Since you’re not impressed, do let me emphasize the condition under which the call may be made. For your wife’s sake, I hope it impresses you. The call is to be placed only when you are prepared to deliver the impostor within a matter of minutes. Should you or anyone else use the number and the code words without that guarantee, I’ll know a trace is being put out over the lines. In that event, your wife will be killed, and a dead, disfigured white woman without identification dropped into the waters of the out islands. Do I make myself clear?5
Swallowing, suppressing his fury despite the sickening fear, Bourne spoke icily. ‘The condition is understood. Now you understand mine. When and if I make that call, I’ll want to speak to my wife – not within minutes but within seconds. If I don’t, whoever’s on the line will hear the gunshot and you’ll know that your assassin, the prize you say you’ve got to have, has just had his head blown away. You’ll have thirty seconds. ‘
‘Your condition is understood and will be met. I’d say the conference is over, Jason Bourne. ‘
‘I want my weapon. One of the guards who left has it. ‘
‘It will be given to you on your way out.’ ‘He’ll take my word for it?’
‘He doesn’t have to. If you walked out of here, he was to give it to you. A corpse has no need of a gun. ‘
What remain of the stately homes from Hong Kong’s extravagant colonial era are high in the hills above the city in an area known as Victoria Peak, named for the island’s mountain summit, the crown of all the territory. Here graceful gardens complement rose-bordered paths that lead to gazebos and verandas from which the wealthy observe the splendours of the harbour below and the out islands in the distance. The residences that spring up from the most enviable views are subdued versions of the great houses of Jamaica. They are high-ceilinged and intricate; rooms flow into one another at odd angles to take advantage of summer breezes during that long and oppressive season, and everywhere there is polished carved wood surrounding and reinforcing windows made to withstand the winds and the rains of the mountain winter. Strength and comfort are joined in these minor mansions, the designs dictated by climate.
One such house in the Peak district, however, differed from the others. Not in size or strength or elegance, nor in the beauty of its gardens, which were rather more extensive than many of its neighbours’, nor in the impressiveness of its front gate and the height of the stone wall bordering the grounds. Part of what made it seem different was the sense of isolation that surrounded it, especially at night when only a few lights burned in the numerous rooms and no sounds came from the windows or the gardens. It was as if the house were barely inhabited; certainly there was no sign of frivolity. But what dramatically set it apart were the men at the gate and others like them who could be seen from the road patrolling the grounds beyond the wall. They were armed and in fatigue uniforms. They were American marines.
The property was leased by the United States Consulate at the direction of the National Security Council. To any inquiries, the consulate was to comment only that during the
next month numerous representatives of the American government and American industry would be flying into the colony at various undetermined times, and security as well as the efficacy of accommodations warranted the lease. It was all the consulate knew. However, selected personnel in British MI6, Special Branch, were given somewhat more information, as their co-operation was deemed necessary and had been authorized by London. However, again, it was limited to an immediate-need-to-know basis, also firmly agreed to by London. Those on the highest levels of both governments, including the closest advisers to the President and the Prime Minister, came to the same conclusion: Any disclosures regarding the true nature of the property in Victoria Peak could have catastrophic consequences for the Far East and the world. It was a sterile house, the headquarters of a covert operation so sensitive that even the President and the Prime Minister knew few of the details, only the objectives.
A small sedan drove up to the gate. Instantly, powerful floodlights were tripped, blinding the driver, who brought his arm up to shield his eyes. Two marine guards approached on either side of the vehicle, their weapons drawn.
‘You should know the car by now, lads,’ said the large Oriental in the white silk suit squinting through the open window.
‘We know the car, Major Lin,’ replied the lance corporal on the left. ‘We just have to make sure of the driver. ‘