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〃Get in；〃 said Jason on the far side of the woman dressed in the habit of a nun。 Francois did so； staring at the black clothes； the white pointed hat and the pale face of the religious female between them。 〃Meet one of the Jackal's more talented performers；〃 added Bourne。 〃She could make a fortune in your cinéma…vérité； take my word for it。〃
〃I'm not a particularly religious man； but I trust you have not made a mistake。 。。。 I did…or should I say we did…with that pig of a baker。〃
〃Why？〃
〃He's a baker； that's all he is！ I damn near put a grenade in his ovens； but no one but a French baker could plead the way he did！〃
〃It fits；〃 said Jason。 〃The illogical logic of Carlos…I can't remember who said that； probably me。〃 The taxi made a U…turn and entered the rue du Bac。 〃We're going to the Meurice；〃 added Bourne。
〃I'm sure there's a reason；〃 stated Bernardine； still looking at the enigmatically passive face of Dominique Lavier。 〃I mean； this sweet old lady says nothing。〃
〃I'm not old！〃 cried the woman vehemently。
〃Of course not； my dear；〃 agreed the Deuxième veteran。 〃Only more desirable in your mature years。〃
〃Boy； did you hit it！〃
〃Why the Meurice？〃 asked Bernardine。
〃It's the Jackal's final trap for me；〃 answered Bourne。 〃Courtesy of our persuasive Magdalen Sister of Charity here。 He expects me to be there and I'll be there。〃
〃I'll call in the Deuxième。 Thanks to a frightened bureaucrat； they'll do anything I ask。 Don't endanger yourself； my friend。〃
〃I don't mean to insult you； Francois； but you yourself told me you didn't know all of the people in the Bureau these days。 I can't take the chance of a leak。 One man could send out an alarm。〃
〃Let me help。〃 The low soft…spoken voice of Dominique Lavier broke the hum of the outside traffic like the initial burr of a chain saw。 〃I can help。〃
〃I listened to your help before； lady； and it was leading me to my own execution。 No thanks。〃
〃That was before； not now。 As must be obvious to you； my position now is truly hopeless。〃
〃Didn't I hear those words recently？〃
〃No； you did not。 I just added the word 'now。' 。。。 For God's sake； put yourself in my place。 I can't pretend to understand； but this ancient boulevardier beside me casually mentions that he'll call in the Deuxième…the Deuxième； Monsieur Bourne！ For some that is no less than France's Gestapo！ Even if I survived； I'm marked by that infamous branch of the government。 I'd no doubt be sent to some horrible penal colony halfway across the world…oh； I've heard the stories of the Deuxième！〃
〃Really？〃 said Bernardine。 〃I haven't。 Sounds positively marvelous。 How wonderful。〃
〃Besides；〃 continued Lavier； looking hard at Jason as she yanked the pointed white hat off her head； a gesture that caused the driver； seeing it in the rearview mirror； to raise his eyebrows。 〃Without me； without my presence in decidedly different clothing at the Meurice； Carlos won't e near the rue de Rivoli。〃 Bernardine tapped the woman's shoulder； bringing his index finger to his lips and nodding toward the front seat。 Dominique quickly added； 〃The man you wish to confer with will not be there。〃
〃She's got a point；〃 said Bourne； leaning forward and looking past Lavier at the Deuxième veteran。 〃She's also got an apartment on the Montaigne； where she's supposed to change clothes； and neither of us can go in with her。〃
〃That poses a dilemma； doesn't it？〃 responded Bernardine。 〃There's no way we can monitor the telephone from outside in the street； is there？〃
〃You fools！ 。。。 I have no choice but to cooperate with you； and if you can't see that you should be led around by trained dogs！ This old； old man here will have my name in the Deuxième files the first chance he gets； and as the notorious Jason Bourne knows if he has even a nodding acquaintance with the Deuxième； several profound questions are raised…once raised by my sister； Jacqueline； incidentally。 Who is this Bourne？ Is he real or unreal？ Is he the assassin of Asia or is he a fraud； a plant？ She phoned me herself one night in Nice after too many brandies…a night perhaps you recall； Monsieur le Caméléon…a terribly expensive restaurant outside Paris。 You threatened her 。。。 in the name of powerful； unnamed people you threatened her！ You demanded that she reveal what she knew about a certain acquaintance of hers…who it was at the time I had no idea…but you frightened her。 She said you appeared deranged； that your eyes became glazed and you uttered words in a language she could not understand。〃
〃I remember；〃 interrupted Bourne icily。 〃We had dinner and I threatened her and she was frightened。 She went to the ladies' room； paid someone to make a phone call； and I had to get out of there。〃
〃And now the Deuxième is allied with those powerful unnamed people？〃 Dominique Lavier shook her head repeatedly and lowered her voice。 〃No； messieurs； I am a survivor and I do not fight against such odds。 One knows when to pass the shoe in baccarat。〃
After a short period of silence； Bernardine spoke。 〃What's your address on the avenue Montaigne？ I'll give it to the driver； but before I do； understand me； madame。 If your words prove false； all the true horrors of the Deuxième will be visited upon you。〃
Marie sat at the room…service table in her small suite at the Meurice reading the newspapers。 Her attention constantly strayed； concentration was out of the question。 Her anxiety had kept her awake after she returned to the hotel shortly past midnight； having made the rounds of five cafés she and David had frequented so many years ago in Paris。 Finally by four…something in the morning； exhaustion had short…circuited her tossing and turning； she fell asleep with the bedside lamp switched on； and was awakened by the same light nearly six hours later。 It was the longest she had slept since that first night on Tranquility Isle； itself a distant memory now except for the very real pain of not seeing and hearing the children。 Don't think about them； it hurts too much。 Think about David。 。。。 No； think about Jason Bourne！ Where？ Concentrate！
She put down the Paris Tribune and poured herself a third cup of black coffee； glancing over at the French doors that led to a small balcony overlooking the rue de Rivoli。 It disturbed her that the once bright morning had turned into a dismal gray day。 Soon the rain would e； making her search in the streets even more difficult。 Resigned； she sipped her coffee and replaced the elegant cup in the elegant saucer； annoyed that it was not one of the simple pottery mugs favored by David and her in their rustic country kitchen in Maine。 Oh； God； would they ever be back there again？ Don't think about such things！ Concentrate！ Out of the question。
She picked up the Tribune； aimlessly scanning the pages； seeing only isolated words； no sentences or paragraphs； no continuity of thought or meaning； merely words。 Then one stood out at the bottom of a meaningless column； a single meaningless line bracketed at the bottom of a meaningless page。
The word was Memom； followed by a telephone number； and despite the fact that the Tribune was printed in English； the French in her switchable French…thinking brain absently translated