The Bourne Identity: A Novel by Robert Ludlum

Author:Robert Ludlum
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Jason (Fictitious character), Action & Adventure, Terrorists, General, Bourne, Suspense, Thrillers, Fiction, Espionage
ISBN: 9780553593549
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 2010-01-05T07:05:11+00:00

“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. She was at the front desk, having signed for the attaché case, which had been handed to her over the counter. She was now obviously asking a mildly astonished clerk for her bill, about to pay for a room that had been occupied less than six hours.

Two minutes passed before the bill was presented. Reluctantly; it was no way for a guest at the Meurice to behave. Indeed, all Paris shunned such inhibited visitors.

Marie walked out on the pavement, joining him in the shadows and the mistlike drizzle to the left of the canopy. She gave him the attaché case, a forced smile on her lips, a slight breathless quality in her voice.

“That man didn’t approve of me. I’m sure he’s convinced I used the room for a series of quick tricks.”

“What did you tell him?” asked Bourne.

“That my plans had changed, that’s all.”

“Good, the less said the better. Your name’s on the registration card. Think up a reason why you were there.”

“Think up? ... I should think up a reason?” She studied his eyes, the smile gone.

“I mean we’ll think up a reason. Naturally.”

“Naturally.”

“Let’s go.” They started walking toward the corner, the traffic noisy in the street, the drizzle in the air fuller, the mist denser, the promise of heavy rain imminent. He took her arm--not to guide her, not even out of courtesy--only to touch her, to hold a part of her. There was so little time.

I am Cain. I am death.

“Can we slow down?” asked Marie sharply.

“What?” Jason realized he had been practically running; for a few seconds he had been back in the labyrinth, racing through it, careening, feeling, and not feeling. He looked up ahead and found an answer. At the corner an empty cab had stopped by a garish newsstand, the driver shouting through an open window to the dealer. “I want to catch that taxi,” said Bourne, without breaking stride. “It’s going to rain like hell.”

They reached the corner, both breathless as the empty cab pulled away, swinging left into rue de Rivoli. Jason looked up into the night sky, feeling the wet pounding on his face, unnerved.

The rain had arrived. He looked at Marie in the gaudy lights of the newsstand; she was wincing in the sudden downpour. No. She was not wincing; she was staring at something .

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