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〃Then don't believe me； Johnny。 And forget everything I've said； and never tell your sister I said it。〃
〃It's that other person inside of you； isn't it？〃
〃You're very dear to Marie。〃
〃That's no answer！ Here； now； you're Bourne； aren't you？ Jason Bourne！〃
〃We'll never； ever； discuss this conversation； Johnny。 Do you understand me？〃
No； he had never understood； thought St。 Jacques； as the swirling winds and the cracks of lightning seemed to envelop the boat。 Even when Marie and David appealed to his rapidly disintegrating ego by suggesting he could build a new life for himself in the islands。 Seed money； they had said； build us a house and then see where you want to go from there。 Within limits； we'll back you。 Why would they do that？ Why did they？
It was not 〃they；〃 it was he。 Jason Bourne。
Johnny St。 Jacques understood the other morning when he picked up the phone by the pool and was told by an island pilot that someone had been asking questions at the airport about a woman and two children。
Someday I may teach you how to kill cleanly； in the dark。 Jason Bourne。
Lights！ He saw the beach lights of Tranquility。 He was less than a mile from the shore！
The rain pounded down against the old Frenchman； the blasts of wind throwing him off balance as he made his way up the path toward Villa Fourteen。 He angled his head against the elements； squinting； wiping his face with his left hand； his right gripping the weapon； a gun lengthened by the extension of the pocked cylinder that was its silencer。 He held the pistol behind him as he had done years ago racing along railroad tracks； sticks of dynamite in one hand； a German Luger in the other； prepared to drop both at the appearance of Nazi patrols。
Whoever they were on the path above； they were no less than the Boche in his mind。 All were Boche！ He had been subservient to others long enough！ His woman was gone； he would be his own man now； for there was nothing left but his own decisions； his own feelings； his own very private sense of what was right and what was wrong。 。。。 And the Jackal was wrong！ The apostle of Carlos could accept the killing of the woman； it was a debt he could rationalize； but not the children； and certainly not the mutilations。 Those acts were against God； and he and his woman were about to face Him； there had to be certain ameliorating circumstances。
Stop the angel of death！ What could she be doing？ What did the fire she talked about mean？ 。。。 Then he saw it…a huge burst of flame through the hedges of Villa Fourteen。 In a window！ The same window that had to be the bedroom of the luxurious pink cottage。
Fontaine reached the flagstone walk that led to the front door as a bolt of lightning shook the ground under him。 He fell to the earth； then struggled to his knees； crawling to the pink porch； its fluttering overhead light outlining the door。 No amount of twisting or pulling or shoving could release the latch； so he angled his pistol up； squeezed the trigger twice and blew the lock apart。 He pushed himself to his feet and went inside。
Inside。 The screams came from beyond the door of the master bedroom。 The old Frenchman lurched toward it； his legs unsteady； his weapon wavering in his right hand。 With what strength he had left； he kicked the door open and observed a scene that he knew had to e from hell。
The nurse； with the old man's head in a metal leash； was forcing her victim down into a raging kerosene fire on the floor。
〃Arêtes！〃 screamed the man called Jean Pierre Fontaine。 〃Assez！ Maintenant！〃
Through the rising； spreading flames； shots rang out and bodies fell。
The lights of Tranquility's beach drew nearer as John St。 Jacques kept yelling into the microphone： 〃It's me！ It's Saint Jay ing in！ Don't shoot！〃
But the sleek silver drug boat was greeted by the staccato gunfire of automatic weapons。 St。 Jacques dived to the deck and kept shouting。 〃I'm ing in…I'm beaching！ Hold your goddamned fire！〃
〃Is that you； mon？〃 came a panicked voice over the radio。
〃You want to get paid next week？〃
〃Oh； yes； Mr。 Saint Jay！〃 The loudspeakers on the beach erratically interrupted the winds and the thunder out of Basse…Terre。 〃Everyone down on the beach； stop shooting your guns！ The bo…att is okay； mon！ It is our boss mon； Mr。 Saint Jay！〃
The drug boat shot out of the water and onto the dark sand； its engines screaming； the blades instantly embedded； the pointed hull cracking under the impact。 St。 Jacques leaped up from his defensive fetal position and vaulted over the gunwale。 〃Villa Twenty！〃 he roared； racing through the downpour across the beach to the stone steps that led to the path。 〃All you men； get there！〃
As he ran up the hard； rain…splattered staircase he suddenly gasped； his personal galaxy exploding into a thousand blinding stars of fire。 Gunshots！ One after another。 On the east wing of the path！ His legs cycled faster and faster； leaping over two and three steps at a time； he reached the path and like a man possessed raced up the path toward Villa Twenty； snapping his head to the right in furious confusion that only added to his panic。 People…men and woman from his staff…were clustered around the doorway of Villa Fourteen！ 。。。 Who was there？ 。。。 My God； the judge！
His lungs bursting； every muscle and tendon in his legs stretched to the breaking point； St。 Jacques reached his sister's house。 He crashed through the gate； and ran to the door； hurling his body against it and bursting through to the room inside。 Eyes bulging first in horror； then in unmeasurable pain； he fell to his knees； screaming。 On the white wall with terrible clarity were the words scrawled in dark red：
Jason Bourne； brother of the Jackal。
14
〃Johnny！ Johnny； stop it！〃 His sister's voice crashed into his ear as she cradled his head in one arm； the other extended above him； her free hand gripping his hair； nearly pulling it out of his skull。 〃Can you hear me？ We're all right； Bro！ The children are in another villa…we're fine！〃
The faces above him and around him came slowly into focus。 Among them were the two old men； one from Boston； the other from Paris。 〃There they are！〃 screamed St。 Jacques； lurching up but stopped by Marie； who fell across him。 〃I'll kill the bastards！〃
〃No！〃 roared his sister； holding him； helped by a guard whose strong black hands gripped her brother's shoulders。 〃At this moment they're two of the best friends we have。〃
〃You don't know who they are！〃 cried St。 Jacques； trying to free himself。
〃Yes； we do；〃 broke in Marie； lowering her voice； her lips next to his ear。 〃Enough to know they can lead us to the Jackal…〃
〃They work for the Jackal！〃
〃One did；〃 said the sister。 〃The other never heard of Carlos。〃
〃You don't understand！〃 whispered St。 Jacques。 〃They're old men…'the old men of Paris；' the Jackal's army！ Conklin reached me in Plymouth and explained 。。。 they're killers！〃
〃Again； one was but he's not anymore； he has nothing to kill for now。 The other 。。。 well； the other's a mistake； a stupid； outrageous mistake； but that's all he is； and thank God for it…for him。〃
〃It's all crazy 。。。 ！〃
〃It's crazy；〃 agreed Marie； nodding to the guard to help her brother up。 〃e on； Johnny； we have things to talk about。〃
The storm had blown away like a violent； unwanted intruder racing off into the night leaving behind the carnage of its rage。 The early morning light broke over the eastern horizon； slowly revealing through the mists the blue…green out islands of Montserrat。 The first boats cautiously； dolefully lumbered out to the favored fishing grounds； for the catch of the day meant one more day's survival。 Marie； her brother and the two old men were around a table on the balcony of an unoccupied villa。 Over coffee； they had been talking for the better part of an hour； treating each point of horror coldly； dissecting facts without feeling。 The aged false hero of France had been assured that all proper arrangements would be made for his woman once phone service had been restored to the big island。 If it was possible； he wanted her to be buried in the islands； she would understand。 There was nothing left for her in France but the ignominy of a tawdry grave。 If it was possible…
〃It's possible；〃 said St。 Jacques。 〃Because of you my sister's alive。〃
〃Because of me； young man； she might have died。〃
〃Would you have killed me？〃 asked Marie； studying the old Frenchman。
〃Certainly not after I saw what Carlos had planned for me and my woman。 He had broken the contract； not I。〃
〃Before then。〃
〃When I had not yet seen the needles； understood what was all too obvious？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃That's difficult to answer； a contract's a contract。 Still； my woman was dead； and a part of her dying was because she sensed that a terrible thing had been demanded of me。 To go through with that demand would deny that aspect of her death； don't you see？ Yet again； even in her death； the monseigneur could not be totally denied…he had made possible years of relative happiness that would have been impossible without him。 。。。 I simply don't know。 I might have reasoned that I owed him your life…your death…but certainly not the children's 。。。 and most certainly not the rest of it。〃
〃Rest of wha