The Bourne Supremacy (30 page)

McAllister looked at him. 'Forget you heard that.'

'I will not repeat it, but I can't forget. Things are clearer, London's clearer. You're talking General Staff and Overlord and a large part of Olympus.'

'Don't mention that name to anyone, Doctor,' said McAllister.

'I've quite forgotten it. I'm not sure I even know who he is.'

'What can I say? What are you doing?

'Everything humanly possible,' answered the major. 'We've divided Hong Kong and Kowloon up into sections. We're questioning every hotel, thoroughly examining their registrations. We've alerted the police and the marine patrols; all personnel have copies of her description and have been instructed that finding her is the territory's priority concern-'

'My God, what did you say! How did you explain?

'I was able to help here,' said the doctor. 'In the light of my stupidity it was the least I could do. I issued a medical alert. By doing so, we were able to enlist the help of paramedic teams who've been sent out from all the hospitals, staying in radio contact for other emergencies, of course. They're scouring the streets.'

'What kind of medical alert?' asked McAllister sharply.

'Minimum information, but the sort that creates a stir. The woman was known to have visited an unnamed island in the Luzon Strait that is off limits to international travellers for reasons of a rampant disease transmitted by unclean eating utensils.'

'By categorizing it as such,' interrupted Lin, 'our good doctor prevented any hesitation on the part of the teams to approach her and take her into custody. Not that there would be, but every basket has its less than perfect fruit and we cannot afford any. I honestly believe we'll find her, Edward. We all know she stands out in a crowd. Tall, attractive, that hair of hers - and over a thousand people looking for her.'

'I hope to God you're right. But I worry. She received her first training from a chameleon.'

'I beg your pardon?

'It's nothing, Doctor,' said the major. 'A technical term in our business.'

'Oh?

'I've got to have the entire file, all of it!'

'What, Edward?

They were hunted together in Europe. Now they're apart, but still hunted. What did they do then? What will they do now?

'A thread? A pattern?

'It's always there,' said McAllister, rubbing his right temple. 'Excuse me, gentlemen, I must ask you to leave. I have a dreadful call to make.'

Marie bartered clothes and paid a few dollars for others. The result was acceptable: With her hair pulled back under a floppy wide-brimmed sunhat, she was a plain-looking woman in a pleated skirt and a nondescript grey blouse that concealed any outline of a figure. The flat sandals lowered her height and the ersatz Gucci purse marked her as a gullible tourist in Hong Kong, exactly what she was not. She called the Canadian consulate and was told how to get there by bus. The offices were in the Asian House, 14th Floor, Hong Kong. She took the bus from the Chinese University through Kowloon and the tunnel over to the island; she watched the streets carefully and got off at her stop. She rode up in the elevator, satisfied that none of the men riding with her gave her a second glance; that was not the usual reaction. She had learned in Paris - taught by a chameleon - how to use the simple things to change herself. The lessons were coming back to her.

'I realize this will sound ridiculous,' she said in a casual, humorously bewildered voice to the receptionist, 'but a second cousin of mine on my mother's side is posted here and I promised to look him up.'

That doesn't sound ridiculous to me.'

'It will when I tell you I've forgotten his name.' Both women laughed. 'Of course, we've never met and he'd probably like to keep it that way, but then I'd have to answer to the family back home.'

'Do you know what section he's in?

'Something to do with economics, I believe.'

'That would be the Division of Trade most likely.' The receptionist opened a drawer and pulled out a narrow white booklet with the Canadian flag embossed on the cover. 'Here's our directory. Why don't you sit down and look through it?

Thanks very much,' said Marie, going to a leather armchair and sitting down. 'I have this terrible feeling of inadequacy,' she added, opening the directory. 'I mean I should know his name. I'm sure you know the name of your second cousin on your mother's side of the family.'

'Honey, I haven't the vaguest.' The receptionist's phone rang; she answered it.

Turning the pages, Marie read quickly, scanning down the columns looking for a name that would evoke a face. She found three but the images were fuzzy, the features not clear. Then on the twelfth page, a face and a voice leaped up at her as she read the name. Catherine Staples.

'Cool' Catherine, 'Ice-cold' Catherine, 'Stick' Staples. The nicknames were unfair and did not give an accurate picture or appraisal of the woman. Marie had got to know Catherine Staples during her days with the Treasury Board in Ottawa when she and others in her section briefed the diplomatic corps prior to their overseas assignments. Staples had come through twice, once for a refresher course on the European Common Market... the second, of course, for Hong Kong! It was thirteen or fourteen months ago, and although their friendship could not be called deep - four or five lunches, a dinner that Catherine had prepared and one reciprocated by Marie - she had learned quite a bit about the woman who did her job better than most men.

To begin with, her rapid advancement at the Department of External Affairs had cost her an early marriage. She had forsworn the marital state for the rest of her life, she declared, as the demands of travel and the insane hours of her job were unacceptable to any man worth having. In her mid-fifties, Staples was a slender, energetic woman of medium height who dressed fashionably but simply. She was a no-nonsense professional with a sardonic wit that conveyed her dislike of cant, which she saw through swiftly, and self-serving excuses - which she would not tolerate. She could be kind, even gentle, with men and women unqualified for the work they were assigned through no fault of their own, but brutal with those who had issued such assignments, regardless of rank. If there was a phrase that summed up Senior Foreign Service Officer Catherine Staples, it was tough-but-fair... also, she was frequently very amusing in a self-deprecating way. Marie hoped she would be fair in Hong Kong.

There's nothing here that rings a bell,' said Marie, getting out of the chair and bringing the directory back to the receptionist. 'I feel so stupid.'

'Do you have any idea what he looks like?

'I never thought to ask.'

'I'm sorry.'

'I'm sorrier. I'll have to place a very embarrassing call to Vancouver... Oh, I did see one name. It has nothing to do with my cousin, but I think she's a friend of a friend. A woman named Staples.'

'Catherine the Great?' She's here, all right, although a few of the staff wouldn't mind seeing her promoted to ambassador and sent to Eastern Europe. She makes them nervous. She's top flight.'

'Oh, you mean she's here now?'

'Not thirty feet away. You want to give me your friend's name and see if she has time to say hello?

Marie was tempted, but the onus of officialdom prohibited the shortcut. If things were as Marie thought they were and alarms had been sent out to friendly consulates, Staples might feel compelled to co-operate. She probably would not, but she had the integrity of her office to uphold. Embassies and consulates constantly sought favours from one another. She needed time with Catherine, and not in an official setting. That's very nice of you,' Marie said to the receptionist. 'My friend would get a kick out of it... Wait a minute. Did you say "Catherine"!"

'Yes. Catherine Staples. Believe me, there's only one.'

'I'm sure there is, but my friend's friend is Christine. Oh, Lord, this isn't my day. You've been very kind, so I'll get out of your hair and leave you in peace.'

'You've been a pleasure, hon. You should see the ones who come in here thinking they bought a Cartier watch for a hell of a good price until it stops and a jeweller tells them the insides are two rubber bands and a miniature yo-yo.' The receptionist's eyes dropped to the Gucci purse with the inverted Gs. 'Oh, oh,' she said softly.

'What?

'Nothing. Good luck with your phone call.'

Marie waited in the lobby of the Asian House for as long as she felt comfortable, then went outside and walked back and forth in front of the entrance for nearly an hour in the crowded street. It was shortly past noon and she wondered if Catherine even bothered to have lunch - lunch would be a very good idea. Also, there was another possibility, an impossibility perhaps, but one she could pray for, if she still knew how to pray. David might appear, but it would not be as David, it would be as Jason Bourne, and that could be anyone. Her husband in the guises of Bourne would be far more clever; she had seen his inventiveness in Paris and it was from another world, a lethal world where a mis-step could cost a person his life. Every move was premeditated in three or four dimensions. What if I...? What if he...? The intellect played a far greater role in the violent world than the non-violent intellectuals would ever admit - their brains would be blown away in a world they scorned as barbarian because they could not think fast enough or deeply enough. Cogito ergo-nothing. Why was she thinking these things? She belonged to the latter and so did David! And then the answer was very clear. They had been thrown back; they had to survive and find each other.

There she was Catherine Staples walked - marched - out of the Asian House and turned right. She was roughly forty feet away; Marie started running, pummelling off bodies in her path as she tried to catch up. Try never to run, it marks you. I don't care! I must talk to her!

Staples cut across the pavement. There was a consulate car waiting for her at the kerb, the maple leaf insignia printed on the door. She was climbing inside.

'No! Wait? shouted Marie, crashing through the crowd, grabbing the door as Catherine was about to close it.

'I beg your pardon?' cried Staples as the chauffeur spun around in his seat, a gun appearing out of nowhere.

'Please! It's me\ Ottawa. The briefings.'

'Marie? Is that you?'

'Yes. I'm in trouble and I need your help.'

'Get in,' said Catherine Staples, moving over on the seat. 'Put that silly thing away,' she ordered the driver. This is a friend of mine.'

Cancelling her scheduled lunch on the pretext of a summons from the British delegation - a common occurrence during the round-robin conferences with the People's Republic over the 1997 Treaty - Foreign Service Officer Staples instructed the driver to drop them at the beginning of Food Street in Causeway Bay. Food Street encompassed the crushing spectacle of some 30 restaurants within the stretch of two blocks. Traffic was prohibited on the street and even if it were not, there was no way motorized transport could make its way through the mass of humanity in search of some four thousand tables. Catherine led Marie to the service entrance of a restaurant. She rang the bell and fifteen seconds later the door opened, followed by the wafting odours of a hundred Oriental dishes.

'Miss Staples, how good to see you,' said the Chinese dressed in the white apron of a chef - one of many chefs. 'Please-please. As always, there is a table for you.'

As they walked through the chaos of the large kitchen, Catherine turned to Marie. Thank God there are a few perks left in this miserably underpaid profession. The owner has relatives in Quebec - damn fine restaurant on St John Street -and I make sure his visa gets processed, as they say, "damn-damn quick".' She nodded at one of the few empty tables in the rear section; it was near the kitchen door. They were seated, literally concealed by the stream of waiters rushing in and out of the swinging doors, as well as by the continuous bustle taking place at the scores of tables throughout the crowded restaurant.

'Thank you for thinking of a place like this,' said Marie.

'My dear,' replied Staples in her throaty, adamant voice. 'Anyone with your looks who dresses the way you're dressed now and makes up the way you're made up, doesn't care to draw attention to herself.'

'As they say, that's putting it mildly. Will your lunch date accept the British delegation story?'

'Without a thought to the contrary. The mother country is marshalling its most persuasive forces. Beijing buys enormous quantities of much-needed wheat from us - but then you know that as well as I do, and probably a lot more in terms of dollars and cents.'

'I'm not very current these days.'

'Yes, I understand.' Staples nodded, looking sternly yet kindly at Marie, her eyes questioning. 'I was over here by then, but we heard the rumours and read the European papers. To say we were in shock can't describe the way those of us who knew you felt. In the weeks that followed we all tried to get answers, but we were told to let it alone, drop it -for your sake. "Don't pursue it," they kept saying. "It's in her best interests to stay away..." Of course, we finally heard that you were exonerated of all charges - Christ, what an insulting phrase after what you were put through! Then you just faded, and no one heard anything more about you.'

'They told you the truth, Catherine. It was in my interest -our interests - to stay away. For months we were kept hidden, and when we took up our civilized lives again it was in a fairly remote area and under a name few people knew. The guards, however, were still in place.'

'We?

'I married the man you read about in the papers. Of course, he wasn't the man described in the papers; he was in deep cover for the American Government. He gave up a great deal of his life for that awfully strange commitment.'

'And now you're in Hong Kong and you tell me you're in trouble.'

'I'm in Hong Kong and I'm in serious trouble.'

'May I assume that the events of the past year are related to your current difficulties?'

'I believe they are.'

'What can you tell me?'

'Everything I know because I want your help. I have no right to ask it unless you know everything I know.'