@@@@@“One of those three people is the man
@@@@@“One of those three people is the man I
want, and I want him for myself! So hold your fire because I’ll know him when I see himI don’t
give a damn about the others; they can be flushed out of that cove later
There was a sudden burst of gunfire from the tropical forest accompanied by screams from the
once floodlit corridor beyond the ruins of the chapelThen one after another the figures raced out of
the tangled brush into the pathThe first to be caught was the blond-haired police officer from
Montserrat, the waist-high invisible fishing line tripping him as he fell into the dirt, breaking the
thin, taut stringThe second man, slender, tall, dark-featured, with only a fringe of hair on his bald
head, was hard upon the first, pulling him to his feet, sight or instinct making the second killer
wield his automatic weapon in slashing arcs, cutting the impeding lines across the path to the ledge
that led down to the beachThe third figure appearedIt was a man, in the
robes of a monkThe Jackal!
Bourne rose to his feet and stumbled out of the brush into the path, the Uzi in his hands; the
victory was his, his freedom his, his family his! As the robed figure reached the top of the primitive
rock-hewn staircase, Jason pressed his trigger finger, holding it in place, the fusillade of bullets
exploding out of the automatic weapon
The monk arched in silhouette, then fell, his body tumbling, rolling, sprawling down the steps
carved out of volcanic rock, finally lurching over the edge and plummeting to the sand below
Bourne raced down the awkward, irregular stone staircase, the two commandos behind himHe
reached the beach, raced over to the corpse, and pulled the drenched hood away from the faceIn
horror, he looked at the black features of Samuel, the brother priest of Tranquility Isle, the Judas
who had sold his soul to the Jackal for thirty pieces of silver
Suddenly, in the distance, there was the roar of powerful dual engines as a huge speedboat
lurched out of a shadowed section of the cove and sped for a break in the reefsThe beam of a
searchlight shot out, firing the barriers of rock protruding above the choppy black water, its wash
illuminating the fluttering ensign of the government’s drug fleetThe Jackal was no
chameleon, but he had changed! He had aged, grown thinner and bald—he was not the sharp,
broad, full-headed muscular image of Jason’s memoryOnly the indistinct dark Latin features
remained, the face and the unfamiliar expanse of bare skin above burned by the sunHe was gone!
The boat’s motors screamed in unison as the craft breached a precarious opening in the reef and
burst out into open waterThen the words in heavily accented English, metallically spewing from
the distant loudspeaker, echoed within the tropical cove
“Paris, Jason Bourne! Paris, if you dare! Or shall it be a certain minor university in Maine, Dr
Webb?”
Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
173
Bourne, his neck wound ripped open, collapsed in the lapping waves, his blood trickling into the
sea
Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
174
18
Steven DeSole, keeper of the deepest secrets for the Central Intelligence Agency, forced his
overweight frame out of the driver’s seatHe stood in the deserted parking lot of the small shopping
center in Annapolis, Maryland, where the only source of light was the storefront neons of a closed
gas station, with a large German shepherd sleeping in the windowDeSole adjusted his steelrimmed
glasses and squinted at his watch, barely able to see the radium handsAs near as he could
determine, it was between 3:15 and 3:20 in the morning, which meant he was early and that was
g