“We’ll see if one is necessary, won’t we?”...
“We’ll see if one is necessary, won’t we?” replied the newly reinstated Deuxième consultant
The medical team wrapped the bodies of the victims and placed them in the ambulance as a
wrecker hoisted what was left of the destroyed vehicle into the huge attached dumpsterThe crew
swept the street, several remarking that they should not sweep too thoroughly or no one would
recognize the LefebvreA quarter of an hour later the job was finished; the wrecker departed, the
lone patrolman joining the crew to be dropped off at the nearest police phone several blocks away
It was well past four o’clock in the morning, and soon the dawn would light up the sky over Paris,
preceding the boisterous human carnival belowNow, however, the only signs of life on the
boulevard Lefebvre were five lighted windows in the row of stone buildings controlled by Carlos
the JackalInside those rooms were men and women for whom sleep was not permittedThey had
work to do for their monseigneur
Bourne sat on the pavement, his legs outstretched, his back against the inside wall of a storefront
across from the building where the frightened yet argumentative baker and the indignant nun chanel jewelry necklace had
confronted the policeBernardine was in a similar recess several hundred feet away, opposite the
first building where the Jackal’s van had stopped for its condemned cargoTheir agreement was
firm: Jason would follow and take by force whoever left first from any building; the old Deuxième
veteran would follow whoever left second, ascertain his or her destination, but make no contact
Bourne’s judgment was that either the baker or the nun would be the assassin’s messenger, so he
had selected the north end of the row of stone houses
He was partially right, but he had not anticipated an embarrassment of personnel and
conveyancesAt 5:17, two bicycles ridden by nuns in full habits and white hats wheeled up from
the south side of the boulevard, ringing the muted bells on their handlebars as they stopped in front
of the house that was supposedly the quarters of the Magdalen Sisters of CharityThe door opened
and three additional nuns, each carrying a bicycle, walked out and down the brick steps to join their
charitable sistersThey discreetly mounted their saddles and the procession started up the street; the
one consoling fact for Jason was that Carlos’s tiffany heart tag indignant nun took up the single rear positionNot
knowing how it would happen, knowing only that it would happen, Bourne lurched out of the
storefront and ran across the dark boulevardAs he reached the shadows of the deserted lot adjacent
to the Jackal’s house, another door openedHe crouched, watching the overweight irate baker
waddle rapidly down his brick steps and head southBernardine had his work cut out for him, too,
thought Jason as he got to his feet and ran after his procession of cycling nuns
Paris traffic is an endless enigma regardless of the hour of day or nightIt also provides palpable
excuses for anyone wishing to be early or late, or having arrived at the right destination or the
wrong oneIn a phrase, Parisians behind a steering wheel embody the last civilized vestiges of
lethal abandon—possibly outdone by their counterparts in Rome or AthensAnd so it was for the
Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
275
Magdalen Sisters of Charity, especially for the officious superior hen on the single rear pointAt an
intersection of the rue Lecourbe in Montparnasse, a congestion of produce trucks prevented her
from keeping up with her religious chanel necklace colleaguesBenignly she waved them on and abruptly turned
into a narrow side street, suddenly pedaling faster than beforeBourne, his wound from Tranquility
Isle now pulsating throughout his neck, did not increase his pace; he did not have toThe whitelettered
blue sign on the building fronting the street read IMPASSE, a dead end; there was no other
way out
He found the bicycle chained to an extinguished street lamp and waited in the darkness of a
doorway no more than fifteen feet awayHe raised his hand and touched the warm moistness of the
bandage around his neck; the bleeding was slightWith luck, no more than one suture had burst
Oh, Christ, his legs were tired—no, “tired” was inadequateThey ached with the pain that came
with unused and abused muscles; the rhythmic strides of jogging, even running, were no
preparation for lurching or weaving, or for violently sudden stops and startsHe leaned against the
stone, breathing heavily, his eyes on the bicycle, trying to suppress a thought that kept recurring
with infuriating regularity: only a few short years ago, he would never have noticed the discomfort
in his legsThere would have been none
The sound of an chanel bags to buy unlatched bolt broke the stillness of the predawn narrow street, followed rapidly
by the grating noise of a heavy door being openedIt was the entrance to the flat in front of the
chained bicycleHis back against the wall, Jason removed the gun from his belt and watched the
woman in the nun’s habit rush to the lamppostShe fumbled with a key in the dim light, awkwardly
trying to insert it into the base of the lockBourne stepped out on the pavement and walked swiftly,
silently forward
“You’ll be late for early Mass,” he said
The woman spun around, the key flying into the street, her black cloth snapping in the turn as
she plunged her right hand between the folds of her habitJason lurched, gripping her arm with his
left hand and tearing off the large white hat with his rightAt the sight of the exposed face in front
of him, he gasped
“My God,” he whispered“It’s you!”
Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
276
27
“I know you!” cried BourneYou
had one of those dress shops Honoré—Carlos’s drop in the Faubourg! I
found you in a confessional booth in Neuilly-sur-SeineI thought you were dead The woman’s
sharp, creased, middle-aged fade was contorted in tiffany jewellery frenz