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〃He's got the manpower over there。〃
〃I've got Jason Bourne；〃 said David Webb。
〃I don't buy that crap！〃
〃Neither do I； but it seems to work。 。。。 I'm calling in your debt to me； Johnny。 Cover for me。 Tell Marie I'm fine； not hurt at all； and that I've got a lead on the Jackal that only old Fontaine could have provided…which is the truth； actually。 A café in Argenteuil called Le Coeur du Soldat。 Tell her I'm bringing in Alex Conklin and all the help Washington can provide。〃
〃But you're not； are you？〃
〃No。 The Jackal would hear about it； he's got ears up and down the Quai d'Orsay。 Solo's the only way。〃
〃Don't you think she'll know that？〃
〃She'll suspect it； but she can't be certain。 I'll have Alex call her； confirming that he's in touch with all the heavy covert firepower in Paris。 But first it es from you。〃
〃Why the lie？〃
〃You shouldn't have to ask that； Bro。 I've put her through enough。〃
〃All right； I'll tell her； but she won't believe me。 She'll see right through me； she always has。 Since I was a kid； those big brown eyes would look into mine； most of the time pissed off； but not like our brothers'； not…oh； I don't know…not with that disgust in their faces because the 'kid' was a screwup。 Can you understand that？〃
〃It's called caring。 She's always cared for you…even when you were a screwup。〃
〃Yeah； Mare's okay。〃
〃Somewhat more than that； I think。 Call her in a couple of hours and bring them back here。 It's the safest place they can be。
〃What about you？ How are you going to get to Paris？ The connections out of Antigua and Martinique are lousy； sometimes booked days in advance。〃
〃I can't use those airlines anyway。 I've got to get in secretly under a shroud。 Somehow； a man in Washington will have to figure it out。 Somehow。 He's got to。〃
Alexander Conklin limped out of the small kitchen in the CIA's Vienna apartment； his face and hair soaking wet。 In the old days； before the old days fell into a distillery vat； he would calmly leave the office…wherever it was…when things got too heavy too fast and indulge himself in an unwavering ritual。 He would seek out the best steak house…again； wherever he was…have two dry martinis and a thick rare slab of meat with the greasiest potatoes on the menu。 The bination of the solitude； the limited intake of alcohol； the blood…rare hunk of beef and； in particular； the grease…laden potatoes； had such a calming effect on him that all the rushing； conflicting plexities of the hectic day sorted themselves out and reason prevailed。 He would return to his office…whether a smart flat in London's Belgravia Square or the back rooms of a whorehouse in Katmandu…with multiple solutions。 It was how he got the sobriquet of Saint Alex of Conklin。 He had once mentioned this gastronomical phenomenon to Mo Panov； who had a succinct reply： 〃If your crazy head doesn't kill you； your stomach will。〃
These days； however； with postalcoholic vacuum and various other impediments； such as high cholesterol and dumb little triglycerides； whatever the hell they were； he had to e up with a different solution。 It came about by accident。 One morning during the Iran…contra hearings； which he found to be the finest hours of edy on television； his set blew out。 He was furious； so he turned on his portable radio； an instrument he had not used in months or perhaps years； as the television set had a built…in radio ponent…also inoperable at the time…but the portable radio's batteries had long since melted into white slime。 His artificial foot in pain； he walked to his kitchen telephone； knowing that a call to his television repairman； for whom he had done several favors； would bring the man running to his emergency。 Unfortunately； the call only brought forth a hostile diatribe from the repairman's wife； who screamed that her husband； the 〃customerfucker；〃 had run off with a 〃horny rich black bitch from Embassy Row！〃 （Zaire； as it later turned out in the Puerta Vallarta papers。） Conklin； in progressive apoplexy； had rushed to the kitchen sink； where his stress and blood pressure pills stood on the windowsill above the sink； and turned on the cold water。 The faucet exploded； surging out of its recess into the ceiling as a powerful gush of water inundated his entire head。 Caramba！ The shock calmed him down； and he remembered that the Cable Network was scheduled to rebroadcast the hearings in full that evening。 A happy man； he called the plumber and went out and bought a new television set。
So； since that morning； whenever his own furies or the state of the world disturbed him…the world he knew…he lowered his head in a kitchen sink and let the cold water pour over his head。 He had done so this morning。 This goddamned； fucked…up morning！
DeSole！ Killed in an accident on a deserted country road in Maryland at 4：30 that morning。 What the hell was Steven DeSole； a man whose driver's license clearly stated that he was afflicted with night blindness； doing on a backcountry road outside Annapolis at 4：30 in the morning？ And then Charlie Casset； a very angry Casset； calling him at six o'clock； yelling his usually cool head off； telling Alex he was going to put the mander of NATO on the goddamned spit and demand an explanation for the buried fax connection between the general and the dead chief of clandestine reports； who was not a victim of an accident but of murder！ Furthermore； one retired field officer named Conklin had better damned well e clean with everything he knew about DeSole and Brussels and related matters； or all bets were off where said retired field agent and his elusive friend Jason Bourne were concerned。 Noon at the latest！ And then； Ivan Jax！ The brilliant black doctor from Jamaica phoned； telling him he wanted to put Norman Swayne's body back where he had found it because he did not want to be loused up by another Agency fiasco。 But it was not Agency； cried Conklin to himself； unable to explain to Ivan Jax the real reason he had asked for his help。 Medusa。 And Jax could not simply drive the corpse back to Manassas because the police； on federal orders…the orders of one retired field agent using appropriated codes he was not entitled to use…had sealed off General Norman Swayne's estate without explanation。
〃What do I do with the body？〃 Jax had yelled。
〃Keep it cold for a while； Cactus would want it that way。〃
〃Cactus？ I've been with him at the hospital all night。 He's going to be okay； but he doesn't know what the hell is going on any more than I do！〃
〃We in the clandestine services can't always explain things；〃 Alex said； wincing as he spoke the ridiculous words。 〃I'll call you back。〃
So he had gone into the kitchen and put his head under a spray of cold water。 What else could go wrong？ And naturally the telephone rang。
〃Dunkin' Donuts；〃 said Conklin； the phone to his ear。
〃Get me out of here；〃 said Jason Bourne； not a trace of David Webb in his voice。 〃To Paris！〃
〃What happened？〃
〃He got away； that's what happened； and I have to get to Paris under a cover； no immigration； no customs。 He's got them all wired and I can't give him the chance to track me。 。。。 Alex； are you listening to me？〃
〃DeSole was killed last night； killed in an accident that was no accident at four o'clock in the morning。 Medusa's closing in。〃
〃I don't give a damn about Medusa！ For me it's history； we made a wrong turn。 I want the Jackal and I've got a place to start。 I can find him； take him！〃
〃Leaving me with Medusa 。。。〃
〃You said you wanted to go higher…you said you'd only give me forty…eight hours until you did。 Shove the clock ahead。 The forty…eight hours are over； so go higher； just get me out of here and over to Paris。〃
〃They'll want to talk to you。〃
〃Who？〃
〃Peter Holland； Casset； whoever else they bring in 。。。 the attorney general； Christ； the President himself。〃
〃About what？〃
〃You spoke at length with Armbruster； with Swayne's wife and that sergeant； Flannagan。 I didn't。 I just used a few code words that triggered responses from Armbruster and Ambassador Atkinson in London； nothing substantive。 You've got the fuller picture firsthand。 I'm too deniable。 They'll have to talk to you。〃
〃And put the Jackal on a back burner？〃
〃Just for a day； two at the most。〃
〃Goddamn it； no。 Because it doesn't work that way and you know it！ Once I'm back there I'm their only material witness； shunted from one closed interrogation to another； and if I refuse to cooperate； I'm in custody。 No way； Alex。 I've got only one priority and he's in Paris！〃
〃Listen to me；〃 said Conklin。 〃There are some things I can control； others I can't。 We needed Charlie Casset and he helped us； but he's not someone you can con； nor would I want to。 He knows DeSole's death was no accident…a man with night blindness doesn't take a five…hour drive at four o'clock in the morning…and he also knows that we know a lot more about DeSole and Brussels than we're telling him。 If we want the Agency's help； and we need it for things like getting you on a military or a diplomatic flight into France； and God knows what else when you're there； I can't ignore Casset。 He'll step on us and by his lights； he should。〃
Bourne was silent； only his breathing was heard。 〃All right；〃 he said。 〃I see where we