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〃I don't think you want to pare the rates of alcoholism in our two countries。〃
〃Not for a wager of money；〃 said Krupkin； grinning。 〃Speaking of money； my dear old enemy； how and where am I to be paid according to our agreement last night on the telephone？〃
〃How and where do you want to be paid？〃 asked Jason。
〃Ah ha； you are my benefactor； sir？〃
〃I'll be paying you； yes。〃
〃Hold it！〃 whispered Conklin； his attention drawn to the restaurant's entrance。 He leaned toward the open side of the booth； his hand on his forehead； then quickly moved back as a couple were shown to a table in the corner to the left of the door。
〃What is it？〃 asked Bourne。
〃I don't know 。。。 I'm not sure。〃
〃Who came in； Aleksei？〃
〃That's just it； I think I should know him but I don't。〃
〃Where is he seated？ In a booth？〃
〃No； a table。 In the corner beyond the bar。 He's with a woman。〃
Krupkin moved to the edge of his seat； took out his billfold and removed from its recess a small mirror the size and thickness of a credit card。 Cupping it in both hands； he cautiously angled the glass in front of him。 〃You must be addicted to the society pages of the Paris tabloids；〃 said the Russian； chuckling as he replaced the mirror and returned the billfold to his jacket pocket。 〃He's with the Italian embassy； that's his wife。 Paolo and Davinia something…or…other； with pretensions to nobility； I believe。 Strictly corpo diplomatico on the protocol level。 They dress up a party quite nicely and they're obviously stinking rich。〃
〃I don't travel in those circles； but I've seen him somewhere before。〃
〃Of course you have。 He looks like every middle…aged Italian screen star or any one of those vineyard owners who extol the virtues of the Chianti Classico on television mercials。〃
〃Maybe you're right。〃
〃I am。〃 Krupkin turned to Bourne。 〃I shall write out the name of a bank and the number of an account in Geneva。〃 The Soviet reached into his pocket for a pen as he pulled a paper napkin in front of him。 He was not able to use either； for a man in his early thirties； dressed in a tight…fitting suit； walked rapidly up to the table。
〃What is it； Sergei？〃 asked Krupkin。
〃Not you； sir；〃 replied the Soviet aide。 〃Him；〃 he added； nodding at Bourne。
〃What is it？〃 repeated Jason。
〃You have been followed。 At first we were not sure； for it is an old man with a urinary problem。 He rapidly left the car twice to relieve himself； but once settled he used the car telephone and squinted through the windscreen to read the name of the restaurant。 That was barely minutes ago。〃
〃How do you know he was following me？〃
〃Because he arrived shortly after you did； and we were here a half hour before that securing the area。〃
〃Securing the area！〃 erupted Conklin； looking at Krupkin。 〃I thought this conference was strictly between us。〃
〃Dear Aleksei； benevolent Aleksei； who would save me from myself。 Can you really believe I'd meet with you without considering my own protection。 Not you personally； old friend； but your aggressors in Washington。 Can you imagine？ A deputy director of the CIA negotiates with me over a man he pretends to think I do not know。 A rank amateur ploy。〃
〃Goddamn you； I never told him！〃
〃Oh； dear me； then the error's mine。 I apologize； Aleksei。〃
〃Don't；〃 interrupted Jason firmly。 〃That old man's from the Jackal…〃
〃Carlos！〃 cried Krupkin； his face flushed； his alert blue eyes now intense； angry。 〃The Jackal's after you； Aleksei？〃
〃No； him；〃 answered Conklin。 〃Your benefactor。〃
〃Good God！ With what we've picked up； it's all falling into place。 So I have the distinct honor to meet the infamous Jason Bourne。 A great pleasure； sir！ We have the same objective where Carlos is concerned； do we not？〃
〃If your men are any good； we may reach that objective before the next hour's up。 e on！ Let's get out of here and use the back way； the kitchen； a window； whatever。 He's found me and you can bet your ass he's ing out here for me。 Only he doesn't know we know that。 Let's go！〃
As the three men rose from the table Krupkin gave instructions to his aide。 〃Have the car brought around to the rear； the service entrance； if there is one； but do it casually； Sergei。 No sense of urgency； you understand me？〃
〃We can drive half a mile down the road and turn into a pasture that will lead to the rear of the building。 We will not be seen by the old man in his car。〃
〃Very good； Sergei。 And have our backup remain in place but be prepared。〃
〃Of course； rade。〃 The aide hurried back to the front entrance。
〃A backup？〃 exploded Alex。 〃You had a backup？〃
〃Please； Aleksei； why quibble？ It's your own fault； after all。 Even last night on the phone you did not tell me about your conspiracy against your own deputy director。〃
〃It wasn't a conspiracy； for Christ's sake！〃
〃It wasn't exactly a pure rapport between the home office and the field； was it？ No； Aleksei Nikolae Konsolikov； you knew you could…shall we say…use me and you did。 Never forget； my fine old adversary； you are Russian。〃
〃Will you two shut up and get out of here？〃
They waited in Krupkin's armor…plated Citro？n on the edge of an overgrown field a hundred feet behind the old man's car； the front of the restaurant in clear sight。 To Bourne's annoyance； Conklin and the KGB officer reminisced like two aging professionals dissecting each other's strategies in past intelligence operations； pointing out the deficiencies each held to be with the other's。 The Soviet backup was a nondescript sedan on the far shoulder of the road diagonally across from the restaurant。 Two armed men were ready to leap out； their automatic weapons prepared to fire。
Suddenly； a Renault station wagon pulled up to the curb in front of the inn。 Three couples were inside； all but the driver got out； all laughing； playfully entwining their arms。 They walked with abandon toward the entrance as their panion drove the car into the small side parking lot。
〃Stop them；〃 said Jason。 〃They could be killed。〃
〃Yes； they could be； Mr。 Bourne； but if we stop them we will lose the Jackal。〃
Jason stared at the Russian； unable to speak； the harsh winds of anger and confusion clouding his thoughts。 He started to utter a protest but could not do so； the words would not e。 Then it was too late for words。 A dark brown van shot up the road from the highway to Paris and Bourne found his voice。
〃It's the one from the boulevard Lefebvre； the one that got away！〃
〃The one from where？〃 asked Conklin。
〃There was trouble on Lefebvre several days ago；〃 said Krupkin。 〃An automobile or a truck was blown up。 Do you refer to that？〃
〃It was a trap。 For me。 A van； then a limo； and a double for Carlos…a trap。 That's the second one； it raced out of a dark side street； I think； and tried to cut us down with firepower。〃
〃Us？〃 Alex watched Jason； he saw the undisguised fury in the Chameleon's eyes； the tight； rigid set of his mouth； the slow spreading and contraction of his strong fingers。
〃Bernardine and me；〃 whispered Bourne in reply； suddenly raising his voice。 〃I want a weapon；〃 he cried。 〃The gun in my pocket isn't a goddamned weapon！〃
The driver was Krupkin's powerfully built Soviet aide Serg