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〃He's gone； Sis。 I wanted you to hear it from me； not over a radio or a TV set。 I want to be with you。〃
〃You're wrong； wrong！〃 screamed Marie； rushing toward him； grabbing his shirt and clenching the fabric in her fists。 〃He's protected！ 。。。 He promised me he was protected！〃
〃This just came from Langley；〃 said the younger brother； holding up the page of puter printout。 〃Holland called me a few minutes ago and said it was on its way over。 He knew you had to see it。 It was picked up from Radio Moscow during the night and will be on all the broadcasts and in the morning papers。〃
〃Give it to me！〃 she shouted defiantly。 He did so and gently held her shoulders； prepared to take her in his arms and give what fort he could。 She read the copy rapidly； then shook off his hands； frowning； and walked back to the couch and sat down。 Her concentration was absolute； she placed the paper on the coffee table and studied it as though it were an archaeological find； a scroll perhaps。
〃He's gone； Marie。 I don't know what to say…you know how I felt about him。〃
〃Yes； I know； Johnny。〃 Then to St。 Jacques's astonishment； his sister looked up at him； a thin； wan smile appearing on her lips。 〃But it's a little early for our tears； Bro。 He's alive。
Jason Bourne's alive and up to his tricks and that means David's alive； too。〃
My God； she can't accept it； thought the brother； walking to the couch and kneeling beside the coffee table in front of Marie； taking her hands in his。 〃Sis； honey； I don't think you understand。 I'll do everything possible to help you； but you've got to understand。〃
〃Bro； you're very sweet but you haven't read this closely…really closely。 The impact of the message detracts from the subtext。 In economics we call it obfuscation with a cloud of smoke and a couple of mirrors。〃
〃Huh？〃 St。 Jacques released her hands and stood up。 〃What are you talking about？〃
Marie picked up the Langley muniqué and scanned it。 〃After several confused； even contradictory； accounts of what happened；〃 she said； 〃described by people on the scene at this armory； or whatever it is； the following is buried in the last paragraph。 'Among the personal effects found on the slain assassin's body was a map of Brussels and the surrounding area with the town of Anderlecht circled in red。' Then it goes on to make the obvious connection with Teagarten's assassination。 It's a wash； Johnny； from two points of view。 。。。 First； David would never carry such a map。 Second； and far more telling； the fact that the Soviet media would give such prominence to the story is unbelievable enough； but to include the assassination of General Teagarten is simply too much。〃
〃What do you mean？ Why？〃
〃Because the presumed assassin was in Russia； and Moscow wants no conceivable linkage to the killing of a NATO mander。 。。。 No； Bro； someone bent the rules and persuaded Tass to put out the story； and I suspect heads will roll。 I don't know where Jason Bourne is； but I know he's not dead。 David made sure I'd know that。〃
Peter Holland picked up the phone and touched the buttons on his console for Charles Casset's private line。
〃Yes？〃
〃Charlie； it's Peter。〃
〃I'm relieved to hear that。〃
〃Why？〃
〃Because all I'm getting on this phone is trouble and confusion。 I just got off with our source in Dzerzhinsky Square and he told me the KGB's after blood。〃
〃The Tass release on Bourne？〃
〃Right。 Tass and Radio Moscow assumed the story was officially sanctioned because it was faxed by the Ministry of Information using the proper immediate…release codes。 When the shit hit the fan； no one owned up； and whoever programmed the codes can't be traced。〃
〃What do you make of it？〃
〃I'm not sure； but from what I've learned about Dimitri Krupkin； it could be his style。 He's now working with Alex and if this isn't something out of the Conklin textbook； I don't know Saint Alex。 And I do。〃
〃That dovetails with what Marie thinks。〃
〃Marie？〃
〃Bourne's wife。 I just spoke to her and her argument's pretty strong。 She says Moscow's report is a wash for all the right reasons。 Her husband's alive。〃
〃I agree。 Is that what you called to tell me？〃
〃No；〃 answered the director； taking a deep breath。 〃I'm adding to your trouble and confusion。〃
〃I'm not relieved to hear that。 What is it？〃
〃The Paris telephone number； the link to the Jackal we got from Henry Sykes in Montserrat that reached a café on the Marais waterfront in Paris。〃
〃Where someone would answer a call for a blackbird。 I remember。〃
〃Someone did and we followed him。 You're not going to like this。〃
〃Alex Conklin is about to earn the prick…of…the…year award。 He put us on to Sykes； didn't he？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃Do tell。〃
〃The message was delivered to the home of the director of the Deuxième Bureau。〃
〃My God！ We'd better turn that over to the SED branch of French intelligence with a restricted chronology。〃
〃I'm not turning anything over to anybody until we hear from Conklin。 We owe him that much…I think。〃
〃What the hell are they doing？〃 shouted a frustrated Casset over the phone。 〃Putting out false death notices…from Moscow； no less！ What for？〃
〃Jason Bourne's gone hunting；〃 said Peter Holland。 〃And when the hunt is over…if it's over and if the kill is made…he's going to have to get out of the woods before anyone turns on him。 。。。 I want every station and listening post on the borders of the Soviet Union on full alert。 Code name： Assassin。 Get him back。〃
40
Novgorod。 To say it was incredible was to obliquely recognize the existence of credibility and that was nearly impossible。 It was the ultimate fantasy； its optical illusions seemingly more real than reality； the phantasmagoria there to be touched； felt； used； entered into and departed from； it was a collective masterpiece of invention cut out of the immense forests along the Volkhov River。 From the moment Bourne emerged from the deep underground tunnel below the water with its guards； gates and myriad cameras； he was as close to being in a state of shock while still being able to keep walking； observing； absorbing； thinking。
The American pound； presumably like those of the different countries； was broken up into sections； built on areas anywhere from two to five acres； each distinctly separate from the others。 One area； erected on the banks of the river； might be the heart of a Maine waterfront village； another； farther inland； a small Southern town； yet another； a busy metropolitan city street。 Each was pletely 〃authentic〃 with the appropriate vehicular traffic； police； dress codes； shops； grocery and drug stores； gas stations and mock structures of buildings…many of which rose two stories high and were so real they had American hardware on the doors and windows。 Obviously； as vital as the physical appearances was language…not merely the fluent use of English but the mastery of linguistic idiosyncrasies； the dialects that were characteristic of specific locations。 As Jason wandered from one section to another he heard all around him the distinctive sounds。 From New England Down East with its 〃eeahh〃 to Texas's drawl and its familiar 〃you…alls〃； from the gentle nasality of the Midwest to the loud abrasiveness