Robert Ludlum- The Bourne Identity by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: mobi, pdf
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“Sorry, I’m edgy.”

“Yes. I know.” She started for the bathroom. “I’ll freshen up and we can go. Pour

yourself a stiff one, darling. Your teeth are showing.”

“Marie?”

“Yes?”

“Try to understand. What I found there upset me. I thought it would be different. Easier.”

“While you were looking, I was waiting, Jason. Not knowing. That wasn’t easy either.”

“I thought you were going to call Canada. Didn’t you?”

She held her place for a moment. “No,” she said “It was too late.” The bathroom door

closed; Bourne walked to the desk across the room. He opened the drawer, took out

stationery, picked up the ballpoint pen and wrote the words:

It’s over. I’ve found my arrows. Go back to Canada and say nothing for both our sakes. I

know where to reach

you.

He folded the stationery, inserted it into an envelope, holding the flap open as he reached

for his billfold. He took out both the French and the Swiss bills, slipping them behind the

folded note, and sealed the envelope. He wrote on the front: MARIE.

He wanted so desperately to add: My love, my dearest love.

He did not. He could not.

The bathroom door opened. He put the envelope in his jacket pocket. “That was quick,”

he said.

“Was it? I didn’t think so. What are you doing?”

“I wanted a pen,” he answered, picking up the ballpoint. “If that fellow has anything to

tell me I want to be able to write it down.”

Marie was by the bureau; she glanced at the dry, empty glass. “You didn’t have your

drink.”

“I didn’t use the glass.”

“I see. Shall we go?”

They waited in the corridor for the rumbling elevator, the silence between them awkward,

in a real sense unbearable. He reached for her hand. At the touch she gripped his, staring

at him, her eyes telling him that her control was being tested and she did not know why.

Quiet signals had been sent and received, not loud enough or abrasive enough to be

alarms, but they were there and she had heard them. It was part of the countdown, rigid,

irreversible, prelude to his departure.

Oh God, I love you so. You are next to me and we are touching and I am dying. But you

cannot die with me. You must not. I am Cain.

“We’ll be fine,” he said.

The metal cage vibrated noisily into its recessed perch. Jason pulled the brass grille open,

then suddenly swore under his breath.

“Oh, Christ, I forgot!”

“What?”

“My wallet. I left it in the bureau drawer this afternoon in case there was any trouble in

Saint-Honoré. Wait for me in the lobby.” He gently swung her through the gate, pressing

the button with his free hand. “I’ll be right down.” He closed the grille; the brass

latticework cutting off the sight of her startled eyes. He turned :away and walked rapidly

back toward the room.

Inside, he took the envelope out of his pocket and placed it against the base of the lamp

on the bedside table. He stared down at it, the ache unendurable.

“Goodbye, my love,” he whispered.

Bourne waited in the drizzle outside the Hotel Meurice on the rue de Rivoli, watching

Marie through the glass doors of the entrance.

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